The last few weeks of school passed in a blur of routine--wake up, eat, go to classes, go to bed. Immediately after returning to Hogwarts, Dumbledore had spoken to Harry and Draco in his office on separate occasions. He had told both boys the truth, truths he knew they wouldn't want to believe.

To Harry: The prophecy was made by Sybill Trelawney. When Voldemort killed your parents, he accidentally marked you as his equal. One of you has to die, for neither can live while the other survives. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Harry. I'm so sorry.

To Draco: Before today, I was certain Voldemort was eyeing you as a future Death Eater. Now he's eyeing you as a potential target for Avada Kedavra. You are his enemy. He is wondering how much you know, and until things die down, you can't go home. Your mother can't know where you are. I'm sorry I can't help you, Draco. I'm so sorry.

After reinstating himself as Headmaster, Dumbledore watched the two boys and noticed a change. They were not madly in love, as some of the rumors would have him believe, but they were no longer enemies. He glimpsed them whispering in one of the corridors and saw them exchange glances on their way out of the Great Hall one morning. They entered the Leaving Feast together and half-smiled at each other before sitting at their House tables.

Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter were friends, or well on their way to becoming friends. He wondered how their Houses were taking that.

"What were you doing at the Department of Mysteries?"

"I dunno."

"Why did you go with Potter and his friends?"

"They made me."

"Do you know what the Dark Lord wants with you?"

"How should I know?"

Narcissa Malfoy drew a deep breath and rubbed her temples. A week in the cellar had failed to crack Napoleon Dynamite, and this round of questioning had produced zero results. "Napoleon, please tell me something."

"Like what?"

"I don't know....anything. Make something up if you have to."

Silence. She looked up and saw she had confused him. Or maybe she hadn't. One thing she had learned rather quickly was that Napoleon Dynamite always looked confused, even when he wasn't. Or maybe he was always confused.

Narcissa rubbed her temples again. Now she was confused.

"Napoleon." He looked at her, and she decided to tell him the truth. "Am I correct in thinking that you honestly know nothing?"

"Yeah."

She sighed deeply. "Okay then. The Dark Lord won't believe you. He's convinced you know more than you let on--which probably isn't much, but that hardly matters now. I need you to tell me something. I need you to make something up that sounds interesting, that sounds like something he'd believe, because if you don't, he's going to send my sister down here to interrogate you. Do you know how she interrogates people?"

"Does she torture them?"

"Yes," Narcissa said, surprised he had guessed the truth so quickly. "I don't think you want that, do you?"

"You bet I don't."

"Well then." She stood and headed for the door. "I'll be back in an hour. When I come back, I'll expect you to have made something up that sounds convincing."

She closed the door and locked it, leaving Napoleon in darkness.

After the Leaving Feast, Dumbledore beckoned Draco over.

"I'm sorry to say your situation hasn't changed," he said.

Draco looked at the floor. "Figured as much."

"Since his name has officially been cleared, Sirius Black has offered to let you stay with him."

Draco looked up. "Why?"

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "You saved his life."

He smiled sadly. "Yeah. Guess I did."

"Is....is this all right with you?"

He shrugged. "Guess so."

Dumbledore smiled. "Good. I'll owl him right away."

Bellatrix watched Narcissa climb out of the cellar. "Well?"

"He does know something after all."

"Well, out with it! What does he know?"

Narcissa smiled. "I'd rather save it for the Dark Lord, if you don't mind."

Voldemort stood in front of the apartment building, staring at the well-kept hydrangea bushes and petunias that lined the cobblestone pathway. He checked his hood once more, making sure it covered his face so as not to alarm the Muggles.

Muggles. It seemed almost obscene to worry about them, but the woman Napoleon had mentioned lived in Muggle London. She obviously wasn't a Muggle--she simply lived among them--but alarming her neighbors seemed like a bad idea.

For the tenth time since leaving Malfoy Manor, Voldemort wondered if this was a trap. For the tenth time since leaving Malfoy Manor, he told himself it wasn't. Napoleon wouldn't lie. He was too dumb to lie. Not only that, but Narcissa had gotten the truth out of him. He hadn't yet told her about Draco, but for now he saw no reason not to trust her.

He entered the well-kept apartment building, found the stairs and slowly climbed them.

The woman's apartment was on the third floor, down a carpeted and well-lit hallway. Voldemort reasoned that this was a time for politeness, so he knocked and waited patiently. A dark-haired woman in her thirties opened the door a crack, peered out, then swung it wide and smiled.

"Hello there."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at her fearless manner. Most Muggles screamed and cowered when they saw him. "Have you been expecting me?"

"You could say that." She stepped aside. "If you'll come in, I'll explain everything."

He had nothing to lose, so he went inside.

Explanations coming up....