Author's Note: Ah, yes, I'm really giving my fingers a workout this holiday season. I'm glad I have 2 weeks off from school, I might even finish this fic. Well, I don't own Harry Potter, I simply borrowed him and will put him back on the dusty shelf until J.K. Rowling decides to finish the fifth book for herself! * Ahem* . . . I'm an impatient person.

Oh yes, a PS: One of you readers (you know who you are! He he) already noticed that the locket read LP, even though Lily wasn't married. There IS a reason behind that, actually. It isn't a mistake, it is on purpose and it will tie into the story later on. ::grins mischievously:: I see that my readers actually pay attention to my fiction's details! YAY!!!!!

Oh, and another addition: I'm sorry about the little feud with Hermione, she'll get over it soon enough! Ron WILL talk to her, though she's mad at him, too.



1 Chapter 16

Unexpected Visitor



Swirls of black slowly mixed with color. The clear sound of something ringing echoed all over, then the world seemed to swirl together into a messy mass of forgotten thoughts and feelings. Lost in these feelings were small bubbles, floating aimlessly, some shooting like bullets, others floating gracefully. In each bubble was a thought, a memory.

This was how Harry's head felt.

He opened his eyes, finally, and looked around. He was inside the hospital room of Hogwarts, and his body felt uncomfortably cold. Harry looked around, trying to see what had happened, to see if there was some sort of a clue that might tell him what was going on.

A rippling pain crossed his forehead, the scar on his face feeling as if someone had struck him with lightning in that area. And it was hurting continually, instead of just sharp bursts of pain. He blinked away a thin mist of tears that had covered his eyes. He wasn't crying now - had he cried in his sleep?

Harry pulled up the covers so that they covered him a bit closer and then he sat up, looking around him, hoping he was mistaken, that he wasn't in the hospital room.

" What had happened to me?" He asked himself.

His stomach was the only reply to his words, and the reply came in a low gurgle. He was hungry.

" Is anyone here?" He looked around the hospital room. There wasn't anyone else there, except for some first-year at the very end of the room, whom was asleep.

Harry fell back onto his pillow, his fingers tightening on the bed spread. He was now remembering how he had chased the mysterious cloaked person. The whole scene ran inside his head as if he had seen it in a movie when he was four - really jumpy, fuzzy, and the details were very sparse. He remembered one thing - the person had no shoes.

Or did his mind just make that up?

Did he dream that whole thing? Did he dream the last few days? Maybe he was dreaming now?

His eyes rested on the table beside his bed. His glasses were there, which explained his fuzzy eyesight. He took them and pulled them on.

He saw Madame Pomfrey walk into the room. She nearly dropped her little tray of antibiotic and gauze when she saw him. "Harry! Thank heavens you're finally up!" She rushed to his bedside. "Does your bead hurt? How do you feel? What happened, precisely?"

" My head tingles a bit." Harry admitted. " And I feel kind of queasy. And I'm kind of fuzzy on the details of what happened." Harry then added: " I remember running, but I don't know why I was chasing someone I saw, someone in a dark cloak, and I wanted to know who it was. The person didn't want to stop, they kept running, and then. . . they stumbled, or I stumbled. Anyway, I soon caught up with them, and suddenly, something happened. My whole body seemed to freeze, and then everything went black." Harry stopped.

" I can't say right now, exactly what I think it might be, but judging from how we found you. . ." She shook her head.

" What? How did you find me?" Harry asked.

" You were lying flat on your stomach, your eyes closed. You looked dead, dear." Madame Pomfrey shuddered. "That poor boy that found you . . ."

" Who found. . ." Harry was going to ask who found him, but Madame Pomfrey continued:

" Your glasses were a good few feet away, you feel with quite some force. There wasn't much physical damage to you, but there was something frightening about you. . ." She stopped. " I don't know if I should tell you."

" Tell me. I'll find out anyway." Harry said.

" The grass around you was burned into the shape of the Dark Mark." She patted his hand. " You rest, dear, and don't worry your head about it. I think you were simply chasing after a follower of You-Know-Who and he cast a spell to get you of his track. Nobody likes to be caught, you know."

" No, I guess not." Harry replied.

" Alright, hon. You sleep up, now, I'll get you some soup and then I still have to go tend to that girl over there. She fainted in Transfiguration when Professor McGonagall appeared as a cat. The girl, supposedly, has a phobia of cats. Odd." Madame Pomfrey had left him in his bed, wondering.

He wondered whom it was, again, who'd found him. It was a boy, which is what he knew already. But he wanted to know who it was! Harry closed his eyes, trying to envision himself lying on the ground, the Dark Mark burned into the ground. It must have been a fearful sight!

Was that cloaked person a Death Eater, then?

Harry hugged the covers to himself. He hoped he wouldn't meet with one again.

He watched Madame Pomfrey return with a small bowl of chicken soup. She handed it to him and then said: " I believe chicken soup can mend anything, physical and mental. So eat up." She then added: " Made it myself. I prefer giving patients the real thing, not something those kitchen elves whip up." She seemed to sour.

" You're a good cook." Harry said, after sampling the chicken broth. It was a bit different then most, with little pieces of chopped chicken floating around like longs in a river. The carrot pieces bobbed up and down as he blew on the surface, the white steam floating away to infinity.

" Thank you, dear." She smiled. " I added a bit more salt to yours, I figure that its better overdone then bland."

" It's fine." Harry took another spoonful into his mouth.

" I always wanted to be a cook, you know. I even volunteered to Dumbledore, about being the school's cook. But he says that they have perfectly fine kitchen elves." She plucked at the edge of Harry's sheets. " Oh, dear, a rip! I'll go get my needling kit." She was gone again.

" What a busy lady." Harry thought to himself, as he took another spoonful of soup into his mouth. It really was delicious soup, and he now noticed a tinge of paprika in it. A/N: I make chicken soup all the time, so I know what I'm talking about when I say paprika. It is good in soup!

He looked at the hospital room wall. It was fairly clear of anything but a window, a little calendar, and a poster. The poster was simply a little kitten hanging off a tree branch. Beneath it, in nice bold letters, was written: "Hang in there, baby!". The poster moved, and the kitten struggled to climb up the branch, then in the last minute ended up hanging awkwardly, suspended in the air.

Madame Pomfrey was back again, this time mending away at the rip in Harry's sheets. She looked up at the poster on the wall, out of plain curiosity as to where Harry was looking, and said: "Oh! I should take that down, that first-year girl will have a fit if she sees any more cats."

" No, don't. I like it. Just tell the girl there's a picture of a cat over here or something, so she avoids it." Harry said.

" Alright. For you, young man." She finished mending his sheets, then shot up to her feet as someone approached the hospital room. " Who's sick now?" She asked.

" Me." Someone stumbled in, clutching their stomach. Harry couldn't see the face, but the voice seemed familiar. He looked around Madame Pomfrey's rounded figure and caught sight of the person. It was Goyle.

Goyle moaned and then made his way into a bed that was about a meter away from Harry's. Goyle then sat down on it, and answered the questions that Madame Pomfrey asked.

" Last name's Goyle, right?" She asked.

" Right." Goyle moaned.

" Can you spell it for me?" She asked.

" Can't you spell it for yourself?" Goyle murmured, then seeing Madame Pomfrey's serious glare, he spelled: " G - O - Y - E -L. No, that's not right. . . Goyle. . . um, G - O - I - no! Wait!"

" I'll just write it the way I think, alright?" Madame Pomfrey said, not in the mood for Goyle's antics.

Harry felt sorry now for Goyle. The poor guy was indeed very stupid. Madame Pomfrey then asked:

" Reason for trip to hospital wing?"

" Uh, well, you see. . ." Goyle thought hard. He broke out into a sweat. " It's quite a long story, ma'am."

" I have all day." She sat down at the foot of Harry's bed.

" Ok, it isn't a long story." Goyle rolled his eyes, then continued: " I sort of drank something, and I didn't ask anyone what was in it. I thought it was grape juice, really." Goyle moaned again, clutching his stomach. " It was a potion, though. Malfoy says that it was a swelling potion, and it only works when it makes contact with your skin, but it hurts inside now." Goyle added: "Malfoy wants to know how long I'll be here."

" Who's Malfoy?" She asked. " Oh! I remember. Isn't he that tall boy, with the blonde hair?"

" Sure, why not." Goyle murmured. " He sort of thinks for me, sometimes. I'm kind of slow, but he's alright with that."

" That's nice of him." Madame Pomfrey didn't seem interested. "You can tell Malfoy that you'll be here for two days. It seems that the swelling potion had swelled your esophagus, I can see it now, your neck looks rather puffy. Your voice has changed, its quite lower then when I saw you three days ago." She remembered Goyle quite well. Crabbe and Goyle kept the beds warm in the hospital.

" Oh. What's an esophagus?" Goyle asked. " Wait! Malfoy mentioned it. Isn't it the throat, or something?"

" Right you are. The throat." She grinned and Goyle, then stood. " I'll go get my spell book and see what I can do. You rest now. Unless. . ." She smiled even wider. " . . . Can I interest you in some delicious soup?"

Goyle shook his head. " I don't feel like eating."

" Too bad. I hear it's good." She walked out of the room, picking up a basket of sheets on the way and another tray of gauze and antibiotics.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

Goyle was lying quietly on the bed beside Harry's, and Harry wondered if he could talk to the boy. He might even find something out from Goyle. " Goyle?" Harry asked.

Goyle turned his head to Harry. "What?" He asked.

" Do you want to talk or something? It's rather boring in here." Harry told him, and then sat up in his bed. Harry's body seemed to burn with pain as he sat up, but he could manage.

" Yeah." Goyle said and then turned so he could face Harry. "Aren't you the kid they found outside with the Dark Mark?"

" That's me." Harry said, softly. " Do you know who it was that found me outside, or do you just know that I was found outside?"

" I don't remember who found you." Goyle admitted. " It was some little kid, though. Nobody I know." He thought hard. "Maybe Malfoy knows. He knows a lot of things."

" Yeah, I figured you'd say that." Harry thought hard. " Did Malfoy ever tell you anything about Rebecca? I assume he had to mention her, at least, since they had gone out for quite some time."

" Rebecca?" Goyle's face strained as he tried to remember.

" You know. Tall girl, weird accent, spooky and behaves weird?" Harry added. " Always dressed with a shawl or in robes or something?"

" Oh! Yeah, that girl!" Goyle nodded to himself. " I remember her. Malfoy told me a whole bunch about her. He was really mad one time and was just ranting on and on."

" What did he say?" Harry asked.

" I don't remember." Goyle admitted. " I was laughing that he was mad."

" That's sort of mean." Harry told him.

" Malfoy doesn't care." Goyle explained. " He figures that if we laugh at something it means we think it's funny, and then that would be to an extent the use of our dormant minds."

Harry laughed. " He said that?"

" Yeah." Goyle added: "What's dormant mean?"

" Um. . ." Harry thought about it. He wasn't quite sure of the meaning himself. He turned to face Madame Pomfrey, who was in the corner of the room now, trying to sort through the laundry bin in her hands so that the bed sheets were in one pile and the pillow covers were in the other. " Madame Pomfrey!"

She looked up.

" What does dormant mean?" Harry asked.

" It means something that isn't in use, or asleep." She replied.

" Oh. I was hoping it meant 'smart' or something." Goyle sighed. " I suppose Malfoy is right, though. I'm just not too bright."

" You could surprise him now. Use the word dormant in a sentence, and the word esophagus." Harry told Goyle.

" Yeah." Goyle smiled.

" I need to know some more about Rebecca Crick, though. What do you know about her that might show that she's a bit crazy, or that she's up to something?" Harry asked. He realized he was desperate for information if he was questioning Goyle.

" Rebecca." Goyle repeated the name to himself. "Rebecca did some funny things. Draco said she's practicing them dark spells, the ones you ain't supposed to practice!"

" I know about that." Harry said.

" I saw a note she gave to Draco one time. She wanted him to help her frighten you. It was something to do with your owl. Draco was real mad and told her not to do it, that it's plain crazy." Goyle grew silent.

" Is that all?" Harry asked.

" No." Goyle replied. "There's something I'm not supposed to say."

" Tell me!" Harry pleaded.

" I can't. It's a promise to Draco, and I can't break it. He made me promise not to tell anyone." Goyle said.

" Oh, but you must tell me. It could help save my life, or yours, or someone else's." Harry told him. " I need to know anything you can tell me."

" Alright, I'll tell you." Goyle gave in quite easily. " But you gotta keep it since its Malfoy's secret."

" Fine." Harry made sure to cross his fingers behind his back. He couldn't make any promises just yet because he could never be sure as to when he could break them. " What is this big secret, now?"

" Rebecca had Malfoy write notes to some girl she really be hating. She didn't want Malfoy to tell anyone to who he was writing to, and er, er. . ." Goyle trailed off. " Malfoy never did find out who she was writing them notes to."

" What were the notes about? Do you remember?" Harry asked.

" Nope. I just know they was threat letters. Rebecca says she wants to be the smartest, but I don't think she'd be the smartest with that other girl, what's her name. . ." Goyle stumbled through his mind to find the simple facts.

" Hermione." Harry said. This made him feel sad, just mentioning her name. He missed her, and wished she wasn't mad at him.

" Yeah." Goyle coughed. " My throat hurts."

" Thanks for talking with me, Goyle. I appreciate it." Harry told the boy, and then laid himself back down onto his bed. Madame Pomfrey came to him with chicken soup a while later, and Harry gladly ate it. He asked her, then, when he'd be leaving the hospital room. She told him that once Dumbledore is sure that the Ministry of Magic is alright with it.

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

The Ministry of Magic! So it was involved in this, too? Harry shouldn't have been too surprised, but he still was. He had always hoped that he wouldn't be the one to be under investigation by the Ministry. They probably had millions of questions from him, and by now all of Hogwarts probably knew about what happened, at least briefly. He leaned back onto his pillow and closed his eyes in anger, his fists balling up and then unclenching. He didn't like having the Ministry dodging after him now, just like they were going after Charlie.

How was Charlie, anyhow? Harry wondered this quite often. Harry knew that if he were under inspection by the Ministry, then he'd have no visitations from his friends, and so Ron wouldn't be stopping by to talk to him.

It was odd, lying there, listening to Goyle's snoring, but not being able to do anything. He wanted to get up, to go and run to Ron. He had so many questions!

Harry's eyes squeezed shut tightly, and he wondered how much longer he'd be able to sit here.

" Excuse, me? Mr. Potter?" A voice pierced through his thoughts. It was a woman's voice, probably an older lady. He slowly let his eyes open again.

They came into focus on a thin, wrinkled old woman with dark blue eye shadow circling her eyes. Her lips were painted an odd and cakey pink and her hair was dyed red and frosted with single white strands that penetrated the redness. She was dressed in a floral calico dress that was stitched everywhere with lace and she had a big pair of butterfly glasses. She smiled at the sight of Harry.

" Who are you?" Harry asked, sitting up.

" My name is Drusella Quenton and I will be asking you a few questions. It's only a couple, really." She sat down beside Harry's bed on a provided chair.

" Are you from the Ministry of Magic?" Harry wanted to know.

Drusella laughed. " You're a sharp one, aren't you." She fluffed his pillow and then said: " I am, actually. They send me to speak with those who are younger, you know. . ." She grinned. "I suppose it's more comforting to speak with a granny-like person then a sharp-nosed interrogator, eh?"

" Uh - yeah, I guess." Harry nodded.

" Can we begin?" She asked, readying a little notepad. She took out her wand and then tapped it onto the paper, and a quill appeared with which she began to jot things.

" We can." Harry said. " But I have a question for you first."

" For me?" Drusella stiffened. " That's not in my job description, dear. Now tell grandma everything."

Harry grew frustrated. " Just because you act like a grandma won't make me tell you everything. I need to know what's going on, too!"

" My, my. Madame, can you bring him some chicken soup? I believe he's a bit fiery - a bit of a fever maybe." Drusella Quenton scratched some words onto the notepad.

" I'm not feverish." Harry protested as Madame Pomfrey went to get him a bowl of chicken soup.

" Dear me, yes you are!" She smiled. " First question: Describe the event that occurred, if you can, in the most detail as possible, trying to avoid guesses. Strictly facts." She added, a bit uncertainly: "Won't you, honey?"

Harry was feeling a bit sickened anyhow, but now he was just feeling awful. He tried to recall the incident, trying to piece things together, then began from the beginning: " I was practicing Quidditch outside, since I'm the captain and the Seeker, you know. I wanted to remain good."

" Just the facts, dear. No 'I'm good' opinions, only facts." Drusella scribbled down 'Quidditch player' on the top of her paper. "Interesting." She murmured.

Harry stopped, and then continued when she made a motion for him to do so. " I was finally finished practicing and then I heard something behind me, I think. Someone, or something."

" You think?" She raised her eyebrows. " I want pure facts."

" Alright then! I turned and saw someone in a cloak. They were watching me. I began to run after the person or whatever it was, but it got away." Harry looked down at his hands and whispered: " I chased the cloaked person since I wanted to know who it was."

" Of course you would. You're a brave boy, Harry." She smiled, back to her grandmother-self, which was supposed to encourage Harry to open up. It made him feel a bit afraid of her, though.

" I finally caught up with whoever it was, and all of a sudden the thing began to say something. I don't know what it said, but it made me blank out. Then I found myself in here." Harry motioned at the hospital room.

" Most interesting!" She jotted things down feverishly. "Did you catch any features of the person? Did it have a male or female voice? Anything significant?"

" It was barefoot." Harry said. " The voice wasn't human, it was savage, like an animal voice. I couldn't tell whether it was male or female."

" Shame. It could help a lot." She jotted some more things down, then she turned her quill back into a wand and stood. "That's enough for now, Harry Potter. I believe we can let you have a few visitors. There had been a deal of Hogwarts students wishing to speak with you."

" Oh." Harry tried not to sound too excited, but he was dying to see someone new, some fresh faces. He wanted to speak to people about what happened, to find things out that he had missed before.

He waited to see who his first visitor would be and he wasn't surprised to see Ron and Ginny burst through the door. They crowded around his bed, and Ginny cried out, her eyes red: " Oh! Harry, are you alright?"

She then blushed furiously.

" I'm okay." He replied to her, then turned to Ron. " Where's Hermione?"

Ron looked away from Harry's eyes when he said: "She couldn't come, she, uh. . . uh. . ." He suddenly burst out: "Oh, alright, she's still mad at you, and mad at me, too. She didn't speak to me at all today."

Ginny frowned. "She's so stupid sometimes. How can she be mad at Harry?"

" I broke a very important promise to her." Harry explained, his eyes meeting with Ginny's. " I feel real awful about it. Say, how is Charlie now, anyway?"

Ron lowered his voice as he replied: "He's worse then ever. He's in a coma right now, he keeps dropping in and out of one, he's lost a lot of blood from his Dark Mark scar. I don't know how long he can survive." His eyes were red from tears too. " Harry, people keep bothering me about it now. A couple of Slytherin kids said my brother was in on a deal with You- Know-Who or something, but that's not true!"

" Did Draco say that?" Harry asked. Harry didn't quite know why he wanted to ask this, but he felt that Draco probably wouldn't say something like that to Ron.

" No. Actually. . ." Ron couldn't help but laugh. " . . . he stood up for me, a bit. I think he's honestly lost his mind."

" He WHAT?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

" Stood up for me." Ron said.

" He wouldn't do that!" Harry protested. Did Draco honestly lose his mind? It wasn't anything like him to stand up for someone outside of Slytherin, and especially a Weasley. Ron shrugged his square shoulders and said:

" He did. He told them to back off, and that if we want to laugh at something then to go look in the mirror." Ron then added: " I don't know why he'd stick up for ME, but you never know with that guy. He's been kind of weird lately."

" I know." Harry took the bowl of chicken soup off the little table at the side of his bed and he tasted it. " You should try Madame Pomfrey's chicken soup. It's delicious."

" Right." Ron didn't seem too interested in it.

Ginny smiled and said: " I'd try some."

Harry handed her his soup and then took an extra spoon from the table. " Take it. I'm not hungry anymore." She couldn't have been more delighted to get a bowl of soup. Harry watched her take a spoonful and she said:

" You're right, it is good."

Her smile was warm.

Harry smiled back at her, then looked at Ron again. "Ron, I have a question. Did you notice Rebecca Crick doing anything out of the ordinary lately that I might have missed?"

" Not that I know of." Ron replied.

" Oh." Harry tried not to appear disappointed, but it leaked through.

" Why? Do you expect her to run into the school one day and just go and kill you or something? I mean, I know she's an oddball at times but I don't think she'd honestly kill you." Ron said.

" You never know." Harry told him.

" She scares me." Ginny spoke up. " I heard her talking to Cho the other day, when they brought you in here. You were out for at least a good 30 hours or so."

" What did she say to Cho?" Harry asked.

" Nothing intelligent, I gotta tell you." Ginny cleared her throat, then continued: " I can't believe Charlie was working in Norway at the time that he was attacked by You-Know-Who. He's normally back in Romania, where it's safer. He always loved those Whitescales."

" Romania! We need to keep an eye on his dragon place there, too, then. I totally forgot that he used to work in Romania!" Harry exclaimed.

" Nothing can possibly happen there. They transported most of their dragons to Norway already, for the winter. They have this beautiful 'inside- garden' in Norway; did I tell you about it? It's prefect, with rows of greenhouses. It's a dragon's heaven." Ron smiled happily.

" That's a relief. One less thing to watch out for." This was cheering news for Harry.

" Alright, dears, time to go." Madame Pomfrey told them. Ginny and Ron stood, and after saying their farewells, they went down the stairs to their next classes again. Harry was left to his thoughts again. He realized he forgot to ask them who found him and about Neville - why didn't Neville come back?

*¤*.¸¸.·´¨`»*«´¨`·. ¸¸.*¤*

There was a swarm of people coming to visit Harry throughout the day. Evening came, and the clock at the far end of the room tolled out seven. Harry didn't expect anyone else to come see him by now, but was mildly surprised when Madame Pomfrey bustled in, saying:

" Harry, would you like to take in your last visitor?"

" Sure." Harry said, hoping it was Neville or Hermione. He hadn't seen either of them at all that day, and hoped they'd come at least now then never.

It wasn't either of them, though. For in the darkness of the shadowy entrance, the flash of two icy blue eyes caught Harry's attention.

" Draco!" He exclaimed. " What are you doing here?"

" I came to see Goyle, and I figured since you're here, then I might as well see what's going on with old Scar-Face, too." Malfoy replied, in a tired voice. He walked into the room, right past Harry's bed, and then turned his back to Harry and looked at Goyle. Goyle opened his eyes, and then said:

" Malfoy!"

" Yeah, that's right. So, what did you do now?" Malfoy demanded to know.

" I drank a Swelling Potion." Goyle replied. " It made my. . . what's that word, Harry?"

" Esophagus." Harry said.

" It made my esophagus swell up." Goyle finished the sentence with a proud smile. " And I found out what the word dormant means, too."

" Great." Malfoy murmured, obviously not impressed at all. He shook his head sadly. " Goyle, Goyle, Goyle. . . you're a sad sight. Just when we get our prank up and going, either you or Crabbe gets stuck in the hospital wing. Is it just my bad luck?"

" I'm sorry." Goyle told him.

" Don't worry about it. I guess we can try it out in a month or so. December sounds like a lucky month." Draco crossed his arms, and then turned back to Harry. " Tough luck, Potter. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that when wee little Potter goes outside, plays a game of tag with some weirdo, and falls down, the whole Ministry steps in."

" It wasn't a game of tag, and. . ." Harry stopped. He didn't have the nerves to fight with Draco. " Just forget it."

" Really, though, you're not getting anywhere with anything lately. Now that what's-her-face isn't working with you anymore, you're stuck in the gutter with your whole mystery." Draco seemed to have a good idea of what Harry was up to in the past few weeks.

" What mystery?" Harry choked out, trying to act casual.

" You know what mystery. You don't think I didn't notice anything odd when you walked all over the place with books on dragons?" Draco shook his head. " You're real bad at hiding things. You might have just gone right up to Rebecca and asked her straight out what she was up to."

" What do YOU know about this?" Harry felt defensive.

" Goodness. Temper, Potter." Draco rolled his eyes. " I'm just saying that it's really damn obvious what you're up to."

" Then what do you propose I should do?" Harry asked.

" First of all, you should forget on relying on any of the Weasleys. They've gone bananas over their own problems. I don't know how much you know already, but I don't think you have much on Rebecca." Draco pointed out.

" I know she'd been practicing Dark Spells in her room." Harry replied. " I know that she had a book on English Whitescales. And I know something else."

" What?" Draco asked.

" I don't think I should trust you." Harry turned away from Draco. He felt that he could trust Draco, but judging from Draco's ways, he worried about telling anything personal or important to him.

" Is it something to do with your owl?" Draco saw how Harry's face clearly revealed the answer. " Good God, Potter, you just found THAT out? That's ALL? I figured you'd have more then that figured out."

Draco leaned back on the bed frame. Goyle stared stupidly from Harry to Draco, not knowing what was going on. Draco's eyes closed as he lost himself deep in his thoughts.

" I think that it's a pretty big thing. And you probably don't know all the details on the owl thing. I know a bit more on it." Harry said. Harry knew what he meant: the fact that it was his godfather's owl that ended up getting killed, and not Hedwig. A/N: Yay! I'm spelling the name right!

" I'm considering making you an offer." Draco said, after a while. " I know that you don't have any connections when it comes to being able to find things up, under-ground secret kind of things." Draco began.

" What offer?" Harry questioned.

" I think I just might want to help you." Draco said, his eyes for once showing an earnest glow.



A/N: Yes, this is a good place for me to stop, don't you think? He he.