A/N: I'm getting close now. Almost to the fun parts. And I mean that as a writer. There are times when you are writing a story, you just want to get through all that prologue. And that is what these first chapters were like. Getting all the board set up. Now I get to play with all the pieces.

Admit it, all you other writers out there. What's more fun. Writing about getting ready for Quidditch or writing about the match?

Chapter 11: I Remember Everything

Draco was sitting in his favorite spot. Where he had an excellent view of the lake but the shrubs and trees hid him from the school. He brought his guitar with him, saying he wanted to practice, but Hermione and Justin followed him. They needed to talk. He knew they needed to talk. But how to start?

They started off by saying nothing. How are you. How is everything. Asking questions in a way that said the answers did not matter. It was a subject that no one knew how to bring up. Finally, Justin did.

"I'm assuming neither of you heard? My inside sources in Hufflepuff (he was referring to William Potter and Casper Lestrange) informed me that the Minister was upset about what happened yesterday."

"That they, um," Hermione said, "you know, with Draco?"

Justin nodded. "It seems he liked the new Draco. He didn't want the old one back."

"Would have been better off," Draco muttered. "I'm a royal arse, you know." He smiled as Hermione tried to make a joke of it. But it was Justin who answered him.

"It's like this, mate. We just don't know the questions to ask. What happened?"

"I found out how to get into Gringotts. I saw the dragon. I felt sorry for her and freed her." A sigh. "Then she burned twelve goblins to death right in front of me." He casually shrugged his shoulders. "Black's partner, her name's Brown, by the way, calls it memory suppression. Except I was doing it too much. So they gave me a potion that made me remember. Everything."

Neither Hermione nor Justin made a comment. What could they say? 'It's good that they did that'. 'It's good that you remember'. Both knew the kind of life their friend had. Remembering all of that might have been best for his mental health, but it couldn't have been pleasant. And both tried to think what it would be like to remember your entire life. Every detail.

"Hermione," Draco asked in a sad voice. "What good have I ever done? All those times, I used you. And you too, Justin. I may have been nice about it, but I was only trying to get what I wanted."

"When did you ever use me?" Hermione demanded.

"When I became your friend. I only did it because I was lonely. I didn't even like you. I remember. Once, I thought I angered you. I was afraid you'd leave. I didn't want to be alone. Even if it meant being friends with you."

"And me, Mate?" Justin asked. "You used me how? To be your eyes and ears on how the others saw you?"

Draco started to say yes. Then he stopped. That was exactly what he was going to say. Instead he asked. "How . . ."

"I thought about it. I used you, too. Father was always teaching me about his work. He makes his living trying to influence people. I've been trying to do for you what Father has been trying to do for Mick." He gave a cheerful grin. "It's been great practice."

"I don't agree," Hermione insisted. "Using people means you manipulate them. You needed a friend. I wanted one. If you were using me, then I was using you. Either that or we were helping each other. It's your choice, Draco."

"What about Quidditch? I tricked you onto the team."

Hermione laughed. "Was that manipulation? Then manipulate me all you want. Do you know what you did? I was a wallflower. Quidditch was just some dumb sport. I would have been more than happy to sit in the stands and cheer you on or anyone else I knew." She became more serious. "Because you pushed me, I grew. I became more than I ever thought I could be. I learned, firsthand, I couldn't do everything. I couldn't be the best at everything regardless of how hard I tried. And I also learned that I didn't have to be the best if I could learn to work with other people. Because of you, I learned to be part of a team. And what did you gain by manipulating me? What was the point of getting me on the Quidditch team?"

Again, Justin answered. "I was a part of that, too. And WE did it because we thought it would be fun watching you learn from it. Draco?"

"Um, yeah."

What else could he say? They took what he said and turned it around on him. It was a conversation of only ten minutes and it was now over. The apologies and regrets that Draco had prepared were now useless. But there was still one more apology to make. Not for something he did, but for something he was going to do.

"I'm sorry to ask you this, but I need your help."

Both his friends smiled. Draco carefully explained everything he knew about Voldemort. How the man was trying to restore his body and had devised a plan. He would coordinate his restoration with the conclusion of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Hermione was confused about something. Why would he wait? Draco didn't know but for some reason he asked Justin.

"Something else," Justin said, then explained. "If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had the means to restore his body and was waiting for a particular date, it could have been because of the nature of the magic. But he is waiting for a particular event. Restoring his body is not dependent upon that event. There must be a second purpose." Justin shrugged. He was sure he was right but he had no idea what it could be, except that it was probably something nasty.

Hermione was smiling at Justin. "This is why we like Draco. He gives us the interesting problems to solve." Turning to Draco, "We'll have to get back to you on that one. At least we have time. You have told someone?"

"Yeah," Draco answered. "Someone who can be trusted to tell the right people."

He saw it in their faces. He had a secret. A secret he was going to keep from them. A secret he had to keep. But at least he could tell them why. "I'm immune to Legilimency. And, just a suggestion, you might want to avoid looking people in the eye."

"The eye is the window to the soul," Hermione quoted. "With magic, that is a literal truth."

Laughter came from behind the bushes. "That was good, Hermione." It was Fred's voice, but it wasn't Fred who appeared. Two old men with long white beards who happened to be wearing Gryffindor robes. One of them spoke with George's voice. "Do you like the new look?"

"Whot?"

"It's the new look." "We tried to get past the age line." "We used an aging potion."

"You overdid it, mates," Draco said with a laugh.

"What makes you think we succeeded?"

Hermione's eyes bulged and she began to laugh. George commented that at least one person appreciated what they did. Finally they were asked what happened. Fred smiled at them. "Once everyone stopped laughing, including us, Angelina Johnson told us to watch how it's done properly."

"He fancies her," George told them.

"And what's not to like. She's beautiful, talented and smart. And she plays Quidditch."

George smiled. "I need to find a girl like that. Someone more my own age." He made his voice sound old. "Like McGonagall."

Both started laughing. Fred suggested they change for dinner. George agreed that they had time for a visit to Madam Pomfrey. He winked at Draco. "We also know how to keep a secret."

"Right!" Draco said more to himself than anyone. "Fred, George, I need a favour. Please."

The Weasley twins stopped, bemused.

"That secret you told me about." He paused. He was about to tell them something he didn't want to be common knowledge, for a few hours. "I need an excuse, how I overheard a conversation. So I don't have to blame anyone . . . specifically."

Draco knew his friends were smart. He was about to find out how smart. All four were looking at him in surprise. True, he had hinted that he would do it, but he didn't expect all of them to figure it out. Although, he should have.

Justin reached into his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note. He handed it to Hermione. She refused to take it. "Just because he put his name in doesn't mean he'll be picked."

"He'll be picked," George answered, enviously. "He wouldn't have put his name in, otherwise. Am I right, Dragon?"

"Um, sorry I didn't tell you. It's just, you know. You'd probably be picked instead of me."

A smile made its way through the white beard. "Then you are forgiven. If you need our help, there's no charge if you don't win."

As the twins walked away, Draco eyed Hermione, then Justin. "The two of you bet on what I would do?"

"Never," Hermione said. "We knew you would. We were betting if it would work."

"I won the Gringotts wager," Justin said evenly. "Luck, really. Didn't think you'd get out via dragon."

As Draco stiffened at the unintentional reminder, Hermione reached over and grabbed his hand. She assured him everything would be fine. It would all work out one way or another. And Draco had to laugh as he told her. It had worked out. The agreement was that he would catch any future thieves. The smile remained on his lips but he did not feel any of the humour. If Gringotts's called on him, he would help. It was a debt he owed.

"COR."

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"They never told me if I could. Tell about the, uh, about how I listened in."

"Ask them when we get back. I'm sure we'll have time. How did you listen in.?"

Draco smiled. "Can't tell you. Yet. I don't have permission."

"I believe you," Justin replied. "And how are you going to explain what you did. Assuming it works."

"It will," Draco assured him. "I don't want to tell my story unless I'm covered. You do know Fred and George work on things. Practical joke kind of things."

"They are planning on opening a joke shop," Hermione reminded him.

"Yeah. Well, if they don't object to my mentioning them, this is how I plan to explain myself."

Hermione and Justin were both enthralled by how deviously simple Draco's plan was and horrified by how easy it seemed. No great works of magic were involved. All he did was find a flaw in the spell cast on the Goblet of Fire, and then get someone else to put his name in. Then explanation concluded, Draco asked them to promise not to reveal what he had done.

"Three years ago," Hermione told him, "I would have run to McGonagall at once. Two years ago, I would have walked to McGonagall's office. Last year, I don't know what I would have done. But after what Justin told us about the Minister, I have no problem at all keeping your secret. And you'll have all my help."

"For what it's worth, mate, you have mine, too. Unless someone from my house becomes the champion." He paused to make sure that, in Draco's plan, there would be four champions.

Draco checked his watch. They still had two hours before they had to get back. He offered to play something for them. He did not guarantee it would sound anything like it was supposed to. Hermione laughed and suggested he play "over the hills and far away. You always say it's the best thing you can play." Both Hermione and Justin were surprised when he agreed and began to tune his guitar. She had to ask. "It's a real song?" Draco nodded.

When I was young, I had no sense / I bought a whistle for eighteen pence / but the only tune that I could play / was over the hills and very far away / early in the morning / early in the morning / early in the morning / before the break of day.


The walk back to the castle was almost anticlimactic. As they neared, a woman standing near the doors began to walk toward them.

"Who is she?" Hermione asked when she saw Draco smile and wave.

"Rita Skeeter. She's a reporter with the Daily Prophet. She's the reason I called you about the World Quidditch Cup."

"I've read her work," Justin told them. "She has what father would call a poison pen."

Draco's grin grew wider. "That's right, mate, and I'm the ink." He called out, "Hey, Lady. Covering the tournament?"

Rita gave him a toothy grin as she eyed the guitar case. "I see you're still practicing. But I was curious when two old men with young voices walked by and said you were amazing. I had to ask: what are you scheming now, dragon rider? Planning of entering a dragon into the competition? Hmmm?"

Draco couldn't help dropping his accent. "Ain't no rider. An' yeah, I am plannin' of enterin' a dragon."

Rita Skeeter laughed. "Do you honestly think you will be chosen as Hogwarts' champion?"

"No."

Rita stopped laughing but her smile didn't fade. Draco was smiling back at her. "I want an exclusive." Her quill and pad were out. "Tell me everything."

Hermione grabbed Draco's arm. Her look told him not to say anything. Draco turned to Justin. His look said the same thing. He turned back to Rita.

"Can't. I have to tell the Minister, first."

"Bother that. I can get the details later. I want to know what will happen. I guess at the rest for now and correct myself in the followup."

Draco thought briefly. So briefly that no one noticed. "Four schools. Four Champions."

Rita gave her best grin. The one that said that while most people were descended from apes, her ancestors were sharks. "I need to get writing. I think I can get the entire front page with this story." She turned to walk away, then invited them to walk the rest of the way to the castle with her. They were going there, anyway. As they reached the doors, Rita reached out as though to open them.

"Mister Malfoy, at your earliest convenience, I want an exclusive."

"Will I get my picture in the paper?"

"Guaranteed."

"You've got it."

Rita opened the door and left them to enter the castle.


Sirius Black was waiting in the common room as Draco came down the stairs.

"I told Hermione Granger to go on ahead. I needed to talk to you. I thought we could walk to the Great Hall together."

"You wanted something?" Draco did not hide his feelings.

Sirius Black waited until they had left Gryffindor Tower before he said anything. "It had to be done, you know. It was a bad shock, but it would have been worse if we did nothing."

Draco said nothing at first. It wasn't out of meanness that he decided to lie. It was curiosity. He wanted to hear Sirius Black's explanation. Justin had mentioned only hours ago that the Minister did not approve.

"And that's why the Minister gave his approval?"

Sirius Black laughed. "After what you did? It was all I could do to not get his message." When Draco looked up, he added, "the Minister felt your loss of memory to be, uh, appropriate. He ordered everyone to leave you be."

"You expect me to believe you?" He tried to smile. "Justin heard about the Minister. I just . . ."

"I understand. You had to make sure." He patted Draco's shoulder to show he was telling the truth. He did understand.

"What do you think the Minister will do?"

"He did it. I have an extended leave of absence so that I may sort out my priorities."

"He fired you?"

Sirius laughed. "I deliberately violated his orders. Of course, he fired me."

Draco had to ask. "Was it really worth it? Losing you job because of me?"

The problem with remembering everything was that Draco remembered everything. This was the same man who saved his life from the muggle gunman. The same man who hesitated, but then saved Nigel's life as well. The man who hated Draco but helped him at Saint Brutus because it was the right thing to do. And Draco remembered the other things. The dog that always watched him as he grew up. The professor who made it a point to praise 'that Malfoy' because it would help teach the students. It was only as they neared that last staircase, he realized that Sirius had never answered the question. But by then, Draco had one more to ask.

"Miss Carmichael?"

They stopped near the stairs. Sirius made sure they were not overheard. "Good news there. Being a wizard has its advantages. We found the man. The arsonist."

"And?"

"Muggles do things differently. I gave them all the information I could so they know what to look for. They're watching him." He saw Draco start to yell and held up a finger. "Don't say it. They know he did it, and my leads gave them enough information to arrest him anytime they want."

"Why don't they?" Draco asked bitterly.

Sirius Black answered calmly, "They want to. They also want to arrest the man who paid him. Givens assured me they were making progress but it would take time. He didn't tell me, but I think he knows who it is. And my guess is it's someone important in the muggle world. They'll take their time and make sure he doesn't get away."

Draco sighed. "Thank you. For telling me."

"Thank you for listening. I knew you thought . . . well, we don't work that way. We're no angels, mind you."

For a while neither said anything. For Draco, it was a relief. As the silence grew uncomfortable, Draco thought of a question to ask, just to say something.

"Madam Pomfrey said your partner, Miss Brown, had a handicap. What was it?"

"Um." Sirius Black looked amused. "Lilian studied Psychology but she never became a professional. She decided on a more physical line of work."

"Lilian?"

"She does have a first name. And we have been together for a while."

"What's psychology?"

"It's . . . how the mind works. She explained it to me like this. We react to the things around us and on the average, people will always react the same way. Psychology is the study of how we react, and why."

"Wizards teach that?"

Sirius smiled. "This will impress you. She deliberately went to a muggle school to study that."

Draco nodded. He was impressed. Most wizards and witches wouldn't dream of doing anything that involved muggles. And now he was curious. Maybe she could let him have a book or two about this psychology. It sounded interesting.

"We should enter the Great Hall," Sirius said, looking at his watch. "It's almost time for the feast."

"You're coming in? But you were fired?"

"I am currently unemployed. I can go anywhere I want to. And I have been invited by my close friend and former school mate, Professor Remus Lupin."

"Draco smiled. "Won't the Minister be angry if you show up?'

Draco flashed a grin. "We should hurry then."

Sirius seemed surprised as he followed Draco down the last staircase. "What's the hurry? You don't need to rush."

When Draco turned back, he flashed a grin. As he stepped off the staircase into the main hall, a reporter and photographer walked over from the entrance to the Great Hall.

"Excuse me, young man," the lady called out. "Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet. Would you happen to be Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"What's all this?" Sirius asked as he joined Draco.

"And this is my legal guardian, Sirius Black. A former Auror, recently fired for giving medical aid to someone the Minister doesn't like."

"We'll hold that story for a few days, just to make sure it gets a headline." Rita was now smiling at Sirius. "And, Draco, we did a story a while back on Victor Krum . . ."

"The Bulgarian Seeker?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Rita said, happy to knock two minutes off her spiel. "He copies a Quidditch move of yours, they're calling it the Bulgarian Drop now, And if he is chosen as a champion . . ."

"Get to the point," Sirius said angrily.

"Sure," Rita answered. "Murray, take the kid's picture." As she pulled Sirius Black aside and whispered something to him, Draco posed to have his picture taken. After the flash, Murray and Rita left them and entered the Great Hall.

"You did something, didn't you?" Sirius asked.

Draco started toward the Great Hall. "You'll like it. The Minister will be furious."

As Draco entered the Hall, he heard Sirius Black shout.

"MALFOY, WHAT DID YOU DO?"