A shorter than usual chapter which is basically just another link.
As February gradually changed into March, Andromeda kept up her correspondence with her mysterious uncle. He said little and would not even tell her his name. But she felt a strong bond between them, instinctively trusted him, and told him much about herself. Her uncle did not make a big thing about Harry, which she was glad about – many people did.
Hermione had been thinking hard about something for the last few weeks. On Valentine's Day, she had received a gold charm bracelet and a cat charm. The bracelet was pretty and delicate, and looked rather expensive – but she didn't know who had bought it for her. Nevertheless, she wore it every waking moment, beneath the billowing sleeve of her robes. Try as she might, she couldn't figure out who the sender might be. She'd had a thought… but it couldn't be him. Could it?
The thirteenth of March was Andromeda's birthday and, to her delight, it fell on a Friday. She'd never had much time for superstition and liked unusual days anyway, so Friday the thirteenth would be fine where she was concerned. However, it was approaching quickly and Harry didn't know what to get. He wasn't diving into the lake again, that was for sure.
No matter how many times he waylaid Helena and her friends, none of them could tell Harry anything that Andromeda had mentioned. She seemed to be keeping quiet about it. He discussed it with Ron and Hermione, hoping one of them would have a helpful suggestion, but they didn't and his mind remained blank.
Another thing on everyone's mind was the O.W.L.s. They would be held in June and the frantic revision started with the return to school after the February half term. Hermione, of course, was having little trouble, though she did work extremely hard. But Harry and Ron were a different matter. 'Cramming,' groaned Ron as they pored over a Charms textbook in preparation for a mock test. 'I hate this.'
'Don't cram,' advised Hermione, sounding infuriatingly calm. 'Plan out how you're going to revise, or you'll just panic and forget it all. Look, do you want me to draw you out a revision timetable?'
'No, no, it's all right,' said Ron hastily as Harry snickered.
Neville was also having a lot of trouble. He was trying to juggle revision, Herbology club (his one talent) and spending time with Ginny, who he'd been going out with since the Yule Ball. They attended Herbology club together, but squeezing Bubotuber pus and the like weren't exactly romantic. He was in despair.
'What can I do?' he complained to Harry one History of Magic lesson, as they copied down a list of Ministers for Magic in the last eight centuries. 'I really like Ginny. I don't want her to leave me, but we don't get any time together, I'm just so busy.'
'Maybe you could do something after Herbology. Put aside one night a week,' advised Ron, eavesdropping.
'Like what?'
'Go for a walk?' Harry suggested. It was something he and Andromeda loved to do.
'That's a good idea,' said Neville, beaming. 'After Herbology, go for a walk.' He repeated it under his breath as he scribbled it onto his hand. Ron smirked and Harry elbowed him. Neville couldn't help being forgetful.
In the ten-minute break after History of Magic, Harry was ambushed in the corridor by several girls who were all much taller than him. 'Andromeda's mentioned something you could get her,' said Helena, frogmarching him into an empty classroom.
Holly O'Donnell placed a thin catalogue onto the desk in front of him and pointed forcefully at an item. It was a large black bag, made of a dull-looking fabric, sewn with hundreds of little white beads. 'A bag?' said Harry incredulously. 'Is that it?'
'Well, she said she loved it,' said Janet Greaves.
'It'll do – thanks, you lot – but I could have picked that myself if I'd wanted to.' Harry still couldn't believe it was so simple.
'Fine, then,' said Helena, disgruntled. 'But don't forget, when she goes (she affected a ridiculous high voice) 'Ooooh, it's lovely!', it was us who told you.' And the Slytherin girls wandered off.
The Gryffindors had Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins. This had once been the source of much complaining, but now Harry was very preoccupied with Andromeda and neither could keep their minds on Firefish, the leaping, steaming orange creatures that jumped in and out of the barrels of water before them.
Ron, however, was able to think about the lesson – and about what was going on with the people around him. So it was he who noticed that Draco Malfoy was looking even more lost and self-conscious than he had lately. And it was he who, at the end of the lesson, when Malfoy went off in no particular direction, followed the pale boy.
Malfoy kept changing route and wandering into dead ends, causing Ron to have to do some very quick jumping behind pillars. He was determined, however, to see what was wrong with the boy who was normally his worst enemy. So when Malfoy stopped in the same empty classroom that Ron had found him in before, Ron showed himself.
'What do you want this time?' Malfoy asked fiercely. Ron said nothing. But, to his horror, tears began to seep from Malfoy's eyes, and he turned away. 'Don't look at me!'
Ron felt just as lost at that moment as Malfoy had been looking. They hated each other. Usually, neither could resist the opportunity to have a jab at the other, to mak a snide comment or exchange venomous looks. But it was as though Malfoy was a tiny child. Ron felt the need to comfort him, but didn't know how. So he remained silent.
'Why do you have to keep following me about?' said Malfoy desperately. 'Can't you leave me? I told oyu before! I suppose you want to gloat and laugh at me. About my dad. Well, you don't know the half of it so just…' He trailed off.
'Has something else happened?' Ron said in what he hoped was an expressionless voice.
'He sent us a letter,' said Malfoy hollowly. 'It didn't mean anything. My mum wouldn't let me see it. But I found it, a bit later… it was a load of jumbled up sentences and rubbish. He's mad, you know, already. I suppose you think he deserves it.' He looked expectantly at Ron.
'Well – er – um – I can't really…' Ron stammered.
'He was bewitched,' said Malfoy hotly. 'Against his will. He didn't really want to do all that stuff.'
'You really believe that?' Ron blurted scornfully. Malfoy flinched, but looked furious.
'Everyone knows it. Everyone. My mum was as well. She was – she was saved by Dumbledore. He put a spell on her, put her mind back to normal. She won't go back to them now. It's the truth. Although I suppose you wouldn't know about that. Your father's only concerned with Muggles and all that. Doesn't want to know about the important things.'
'My father,' said Ron, trying to ignore the sudden burning in his throat as though a Firefish was lodged there, 'is working all day and all night to stop Voldemort.' He stopped resisting the anger. 'Your father, Malfoy, was a liar and a follower and an evil git. And I know you miss him, but that isn't the point. The point is, my father is working for good. Yours worked for evil. And now he's in prison. So which is the better man?'
Malfoy lifted up one of the chairs and Ron instinctively raised his arms to shield himself. But Malfoy flung it aside and laughed without smiling. 'You think I'd throw it at you,' he said blandly. 'You think I'm as bad as him, don't you?' Ron was taken aback. 'I know you do. I see it all the time. I'm an evil, horrible little thing, I don't have feelings, I don't care about anyone but myself. It's true, probably. Everyone makes it that way, so I don't have much choice. Because I have to grow up to be like my dad, I have to be every bit as foul and nasty and cruel as him. That's what's expected of me, so that's what I'll be.'
'You don't have to be, though,' Ron said quietly.
'I do,' said Malfoy rather sadly. 'We both know it. Every Malfoy's been the same. I know what my dad was like without people telling me. He deserved everything he got. But that doesn't mean I don't miss him.' He gasped or sobbed, Ron couldn't tell. 'Always he told me how worthless I was, how only the best could possibly befall me and how I was throwing it away, letting Potter and Granger do better than me, always he drilled it into my head that Muggles and Mudbloods are bad-' He paused. 'And yet I can't make it. I'll never be good enough to be anything but a Malfoy, but I can't be a proper Malfoy either. I'm stuck, you see.' For a moment, he almost smiled. Then he got up decisively and headed for the door. His face was ferocious once more. 'Don't think this changes anything, Weasley. And you'd better not tell anyone either.' Malfoy – Draco Malfoy, Ron suddenly thought – slinked out of sight around the doorway, and Ron left a moment later.
It was half past ten at night. Herbology club had just dispersed for the week and Neville was feeling happy as he walked in the shade of the Forbidden Forest, Ginny by his side. Neither had said anything for a while – it was easier to just enjoy the moment. But someone in the woods didn't want them to.
Ginny had gone a few steps further when she realised that Neville was no longer by her side, She turned around, her brow furrowed with confusion. For a moment she didn't see. Then her eyes fell onto Neville, lying stiffly still on the ground. Then she took in the cloaked figure propping up Neville's shoulders, preparing to move him. She ran, terrified, for a few steps, but then something powerful, radiating heat, hit her in the back and she tumbled forwards. After a minute the cloaked figure, having vanished with Neville into the woods, returned and pulled Ginny away as well.