Title: The Fox and the Hound (5/?)
Author: Lisa (Snapdragongrrl@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I'm poor. I own nothing. "Blah blah bliddy blah, I'm so stuffy give me a scone." (And I don't even own *that* either.)
PAIRINGS: Harry/Draco (Only friendship at first, but it will probably develop into mild SLASH. You've been warned...). This will also have some Ron/Hermione, because it's unavoidable.
SUMMARY: You're on Chapter 5, people. You've read the summary 4 times. No summary for you!
SPOILERS: 1st 4 HP books, just to be safe.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've never written a fanfic in my life. If you think I suck, please tell me. Even more helpful, though, would be to tell me how to "not" suck or to offer to Beta. Oh, and if you love it, tell me that too, please.
DISTRIBUTION: Want. Take. Have. Tell me where it be.
DEDICATION: To Aarynn for the *wonderful* multiple feedbackiness. It's inspired me to try and fight with this part to get it out quicker. Muchos Gracias also to everyone who's reviewed thus far. You all totally ROCK! Thanks!
*IMPORTANT STUFF NOTE*: As this is already in an Alternate Universe due to the changed events in the Chamber of Secrets, I'm going to go ahead and change the timeline too, to suit my nefarious purposes. (Insert evil cackle here.) In my little Alternate Universe, the events at the end of CoS happened near the end of February, NOT at the end of the school year. Harry couldn't very well get his memories back from the Dursleys over the summer, now could he? He'd kill himself after two hours with them. Sorry about not mentioning this sooner; I'd been trying to work out how to keep them together over the summer. But those ideas were all vetoed due to *extreme* lameness. I'm sorry for having to do this, as it is also lame to change the timeline we all know and love, but just pretend everything that happened in CoS occurred before the end of February. Read on, gentle viewer. Er, reader.
Chapter Five: Like Water For Draco
Dumbledore thought it sounded rather like the beginning of a joke. "A blond, a brunette and a red-head walk into an infirmary..."
Except it wasn't a joke because the blond knew perfectly well what was going on, and it was the one with the dark hair who was looking at the other two in bewilderment.
It was time to step in before things got sticky--er.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore began, halting what would have ultimately been a battle to the death between the two boys glaring at one another over Harry's bed. "I'm glad you're both present to hear this. A course of action has been decided."
Snape scowled at Draco from his place at Dumbledore's left side, knowing that his best student would now be roped in to helping with Potter's "recovery" just because he'd started talking to the boy for some unknown reason.
Snape didn't think to remember that it was his fault Draco had been sitting next to Harry in the first place.
"Harry, you will be given your own room, still in Gryffindor Tower, but separate from your roommates as I feel you could be over-stimulated and receive too much information at once. This way the amount you learn about your past won't be too overwhelming; it will be controlled by a schedule we will set up," the Headmaster said.
Harry was trying to process everything, but he was very tired from the days' events.
"We will bring you your dinner in here, Harry. It would be best for you to spend the night in the hospital wing while your new room is prepared."
Ron looked around the room with a confused look on his freckled face. Where did the rest of his family go?
"Ah, Mr. Weasley, I expect your family will be waiting in the Entrance Hall to say their good-byes to you. Miss Weasley will be continuing the rest of the term from your home via owl post, I'm afraid. This year has startled her too badly to remain here," Dumbledore led Ron to the door and gestured for Professor Snape and Draco to follow him. "Mr. Potter needs his rest. Dinner will be here within the hour."
"Excuse me, sir? Could Draco stay with me? I'm a little scared still. This place is so big, there's so much I don't know about, and..."
"Certainly, Harry. That is, if Mr. Malfoy consents?"
Draco nodded, trying to hide yet another genuine smile. Multiple smiles in one day. He was amazed at the effect this "positive Potter" had on him. Harry wanted *him* to stay. Not Ron. Him. Game, set, match. This round belonged to him.
Snape had never seen Draco act like this. It was almost as if he wanted to stay with Potter. But that was absurd. He would just have to trust that his best pupil had something horrid up his sleeve to unleash on the boy when no one was supervising them.
Madame Pomfrey handed Harry a pair of pajamas, saw to the slightly swollen lump on the back of his head, and put a curtain around him to let him change.
When he was finished, she pulled the curtain back and left the room, but not before warning them that she would know if Harry hadn't rested at all.
Dusk was settling outside the hospital wing's wide windows, and the lamps at each bedside flicked on one by one. Harry jumped.
"Who did that?"
"Well, it's magic, isn't it. Harry, your first lesson: everything that you can't explain, things that don't seem possible, must be happening because of magic. You'll never learn anything else if you keep being so awed by all the little things. And you're completely forgetting that you can *do* most of these little things."
Draco pulled out his wand and handed it to Harry.
Harry held it the way he had learned earlier in the chamber.
"Now say 'Lumos,'" Draco instructed.
Harry whispered it, feeling foolish, and almost dropped the wand when it started to glow.
"To put it out, say 'Nox.'" Harry did. "You just did magic."
Harry grinned at his impromptu teacher. "That was brilliant!"
Excited as he was, he couldn't help but stifle a yawn.
Draco noticed and took his wand back. Harry pouted.
"None of that, you need to sleep or Pomfrey will have my head. I'll just sit right here."
He watched as Harry crawled under the covers and took his glasses off. Draco dimmed the bedside light, and he heard a soft sleepy voice thank him for staying there.
He sat back and pondered the events that had transpired in the past few hours.
It was going to work. They would be friends. Finally.
But what had Dumbledore said about events changing a person? That he could be a different person if he had different experiences?
Well, as far as he was concerned, this Harry was far superior to the old version. This Harry *liked* being around him; he even admitted he was scared in front of Draco and requested that he stay. This Harry smiled at him and laughed with him, not at him. This Harry also seemed to like him more than Ron, which could prove interesting.
But Draco was forgetting a large part of the equation: Hermione.
It was all well and good to have bested Ron, but he wasn't competing with just him. And the Hermione who would be waking up in the morning once the Mandrake Root potion had been administered was the same Hermione who had been petrified. There was no fooling someone that smart that still had all her memories.
At Dumbledore's request, two trays of dinner had been sent to the hospital wing.
So as not to disturb her patient too much, Madame Pomfrey took the trays from the house elves outside the door. She couldn't imagine how startled he would be by seeing things as odd as them. It would be close to a muggle's reaction, she thought.
She approached Mr. Potter's bed and was just clearing her throat to wake her patient when she noticed Mr. Malfoy's position at the bedside. It brought a wistful smile to her normally stern face. He had fallen asleep and was leaning his upper half on the bed by Harry's legs, his head pillowed on his crossed arms. It didn't look comfortable at all.
It was odd, seeing a Malfoy look so vulnerable and angelic. His normally impeccable pale hair was mussed, his pointed face relaxed, and for a moment, she could imagine he wasn't the poison-tongued little sod who always made a big deal about the tiniest injury. She felt compelled to take care of him, as he had obviously taken care of her patient in her absence.
With her wand, Madame Pomfrey prepared the bed to Mr. Potter's right and floated Draco into it. After tucking him in, she placed each of their trays on their bedside tables and put a warming charm on them. Sleep was much more beneficial right now, she thought, and they could just eat when they woke up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was well after midnight when Harry woke up. The room was still faintly lit by the bedside lamps, but it took a moment for him to recall where he was and why. He frowned when he saw the empty chair next to his bedside.
"He didn't stay. I thought he would." Harry whispered to himself.
There was something about the blond boy that appealed to him, a toughness he had. He felt comfortable around Draco. He wasn't scared by Harry's lack of memories, like Ron was. And he didn't treat him as if he would shatter under a harsh word like Professor Dumbledore did. But he wasn't plain mean and nasty like the dark-haired professor, whom he knew, even without any of his memories, must be a terrible teacher.
Harry investigated his surroundings, looking for a clock.
He rubbed his eyes when he saw the blond asleep in the next bed. Had he wished him there? Is *that* how magic worked or did he need a stic--er, wand?
Draco was curled on his side facing Harry. He had his palms together and his cheek was resting on them. He looked exactly like this one Precious Moments figurine his Aunt Petunia had. He had to dust her sodding collection every Saturday, so he knew it well.
'Where in the bloody hell had THAT come from?'
Harry's brain was working overtime. Who was Aunt Petunia? Well, his aunt, *obviously,* but why did he dust for her? Was it for money? Did he visit on Saturdays or something?
He strained his mind, reaching for any other slivers of his old memories, but it looked like that bright flash was just a fluke. Harry stopped giving himself a headache and decided to have some fun with "Precious Moments" Draco.
Pushing back his covers, he got out of bed and picked up the glass of water near his dinner. His stomach growled in protest as he ignored the food and made his was to Draco.
Harry stuck his fingers in the water and then held them over Draco's face.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Someone was crying over his fallen body, their tears hitting his cheek. It was Harry. Draco wanted to tell him that he was fine, not dead, but he couldn't seem to move. Harry wiped the tears leaking from his big green eyes off of his streaked cheeks and bent down to kiss Draco's forehead. But the kiss felt as cold and wet as the tears.
Draco started to stir, and Harry bit back a laugh. The last water drop had hit him square on his forehead and was rolling down his pointed nose.
Draco sat up with a start. "Don't cry, Harry!" He said aloud.
Harry stopped biting back his laughter and guffawed, clutching his belly and almost dropping his glass of water.
"What?! Why would I be crying, you ninny!" He really was wiping tears from his eyes now, but they were tears of mirth, not dream tears of loss.
Now, Malfoys don't blush. It is in The Manual under section B3: Unacceptable Bodily Functions (In Public or Otherwise), right after the expulsion of gas and sneezing. It wasn't done. It far was too common and undignified.
But Draco was turning a fetching shade of pink high on his cheekbones that was especially visible, even in the low light of the room, because of his colorless complexion. He must be getting a cold, he reasoned, explaining away his warm cheeks.
Having finished torturing Draco awake, Harry put down the glass of water and sat on Draco's bed.
"How did I get in this bed?" Draco asked.
"I was wondering that myself. I'm guessing it's pretty late. You didn't really have to stay this long, y'know."
Harry saw the other boy's face fall, just a fraction, before his cool mask slipped back into its spot and added hurriedly, "But I'm really glad you did." He patted Draco's hand and smiled shyly.
Draco cleared his suddenly tight throat and pulled away from Harry to get out of the bed. "Well, look's like our food's got warming charms on it. Shall we eat? I'm famished."
"Must've worked up quite an appetite, sleeping and dreaming like you were," Harry teased. "What were you dreaming about, anyway?"
They sat in the chairs between their two beds, trays on their laps and started to eat. It was a plain meal, Draco thought, just roast beef, potatoes, and broccoli. But it was probably because these were foods Harry would most likely recognize.
He wondered how much Harry remembered about the world in general. It was strange; he knew his basic motor functions, how to eat, walk, talk. His vocabulary was at the right level for their age, and he even had a sense of humor. So was it just the magical world he had forgotten? Did he remember life before Hogwarts at all?
Draco was doing his blank stare trick again. Harry didn't think it was healthy to forget you were speaking to someone like that. After all, who was the one with the extreme case of the "I don't remembers" here, him or Draco? He thought maybe it was because he'd made his friend uncomfortable, asking about his dream like he had. Dreams could be very personal.
"It's all right, Draco. You don't have to tell me about your dream. I was just curious since it was my name you woke up saying and all." Harry hinted that he really would like to know, but he was trying not to be too rude about it.
Thinking quickly, Draco said, "You had stubbed your toe on a desk in my dream. I was teasing you, telling you not to cry like a girl. That's all. You were being a big baby about it." A good lie has details, Draco thought. Thank you, Malfoy Manual page 92.
Across the large hospital room, body-binded Gilderoy Lockhart lay pretty much forgotten, listening to everything happening around him. He was trying to come up with a way to talk himself out of the mess he had put himself in, but the conversation between the two sworn enemies was just too interesting. It was almost as if Potter and Malfoy were bonding. It was strange indeed.
He wondered to himself what the punishment was for an infraction this size. It wasn't everyday someone destroyed the biggest hero of the modern magical world.
Elsewhere, Albus Dumbledore was holding a very special meeting with some very special people. The dilemma concerning Lockhart's punishment was far down the list of topics to discuss, way behind the restoration of their fallen hero and the ways to exploit the Potter/Malfoy alliance to their favor. The current discussion topic was Harry's muggle memories and how much they could, or if they even should, restore them.
The Order of the Phoenix was in for a long night.
TBC
A/N: Looong chapter. Whew. I sorta have a direction I'm going in now, but as always, I take requests and suggestions into consideration. Naughty muse, going on vacation in the middle of a story like that. Should be fired, she should. Like it? Hate it with a hot burny passion? Let me know! Thanks!
Author: Lisa (Snapdragongrrl@aol.com)
Rating: PG-13
DISCLAIMER: I'm poor. I own nothing. "Blah blah bliddy blah, I'm so stuffy give me a scone." (And I don't even own *that* either.)
PAIRINGS: Harry/Draco (Only friendship at first, but it will probably develop into mild SLASH. You've been warned...). This will also have some Ron/Hermione, because it's unavoidable.
SUMMARY: You're on Chapter 5, people. You've read the summary 4 times. No summary for you!
SPOILERS: 1st 4 HP books, just to be safe.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I've never written a fanfic in my life. If you think I suck, please tell me. Even more helpful, though, would be to tell me how to "not" suck or to offer to Beta. Oh, and if you love it, tell me that too, please.
DISTRIBUTION: Want. Take. Have. Tell me where it be.
DEDICATION: To Aarynn for the *wonderful* multiple feedbackiness. It's inspired me to try and fight with this part to get it out quicker. Muchos Gracias also to everyone who's reviewed thus far. You all totally ROCK! Thanks!
*IMPORTANT STUFF NOTE*: As this is already in an Alternate Universe due to the changed events in the Chamber of Secrets, I'm going to go ahead and change the timeline too, to suit my nefarious purposes. (Insert evil cackle here.) In my little Alternate Universe, the events at the end of CoS happened near the end of February, NOT at the end of the school year. Harry couldn't very well get his memories back from the Dursleys over the summer, now could he? He'd kill himself after two hours with them. Sorry about not mentioning this sooner; I'd been trying to work out how to keep them together over the summer. But those ideas were all vetoed due to *extreme* lameness. I'm sorry for having to do this, as it is also lame to change the timeline we all know and love, but just pretend everything that happened in CoS occurred before the end of February. Read on, gentle viewer. Er, reader.
Chapter Five: Like Water For Draco
Dumbledore thought it sounded rather like the beginning of a joke. "A blond, a brunette and a red-head walk into an infirmary..."
Except it wasn't a joke because the blond knew perfectly well what was going on, and it was the one with the dark hair who was looking at the other two in bewilderment.
It was time to step in before things got sticky--er.
"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore began, halting what would have ultimately been a battle to the death between the two boys glaring at one another over Harry's bed. "I'm glad you're both present to hear this. A course of action has been decided."
Snape scowled at Draco from his place at Dumbledore's left side, knowing that his best student would now be roped in to helping with Potter's "recovery" just because he'd started talking to the boy for some unknown reason.
Snape didn't think to remember that it was his fault Draco had been sitting next to Harry in the first place.
"Harry, you will be given your own room, still in Gryffindor Tower, but separate from your roommates as I feel you could be over-stimulated and receive too much information at once. This way the amount you learn about your past won't be too overwhelming; it will be controlled by a schedule we will set up," the Headmaster said.
Harry was trying to process everything, but he was very tired from the days' events.
"We will bring you your dinner in here, Harry. It would be best for you to spend the night in the hospital wing while your new room is prepared."
Ron looked around the room with a confused look on his freckled face. Where did the rest of his family go?
"Ah, Mr. Weasley, I expect your family will be waiting in the Entrance Hall to say their good-byes to you. Miss Weasley will be continuing the rest of the term from your home via owl post, I'm afraid. This year has startled her too badly to remain here," Dumbledore led Ron to the door and gestured for Professor Snape and Draco to follow him. "Mr. Potter needs his rest. Dinner will be here within the hour."
"Excuse me, sir? Could Draco stay with me? I'm a little scared still. This place is so big, there's so much I don't know about, and..."
"Certainly, Harry. That is, if Mr. Malfoy consents?"
Draco nodded, trying to hide yet another genuine smile. Multiple smiles in one day. He was amazed at the effect this "positive Potter" had on him. Harry wanted *him* to stay. Not Ron. Him. Game, set, match. This round belonged to him.
Snape had never seen Draco act like this. It was almost as if he wanted to stay with Potter. But that was absurd. He would just have to trust that his best pupil had something horrid up his sleeve to unleash on the boy when no one was supervising them.
Madame Pomfrey handed Harry a pair of pajamas, saw to the slightly swollen lump on the back of his head, and put a curtain around him to let him change.
When he was finished, she pulled the curtain back and left the room, but not before warning them that she would know if Harry hadn't rested at all.
Dusk was settling outside the hospital wing's wide windows, and the lamps at each bedside flicked on one by one. Harry jumped.
"Who did that?"
"Well, it's magic, isn't it. Harry, your first lesson: everything that you can't explain, things that don't seem possible, must be happening because of magic. You'll never learn anything else if you keep being so awed by all the little things. And you're completely forgetting that you can *do* most of these little things."
Draco pulled out his wand and handed it to Harry.
Harry held it the way he had learned earlier in the chamber.
"Now say 'Lumos,'" Draco instructed.
Harry whispered it, feeling foolish, and almost dropped the wand when it started to glow.
"To put it out, say 'Nox.'" Harry did. "You just did magic."
Harry grinned at his impromptu teacher. "That was brilliant!"
Excited as he was, he couldn't help but stifle a yawn.
Draco noticed and took his wand back. Harry pouted.
"None of that, you need to sleep or Pomfrey will have my head. I'll just sit right here."
He watched as Harry crawled under the covers and took his glasses off. Draco dimmed the bedside light, and he heard a soft sleepy voice thank him for staying there.
He sat back and pondered the events that had transpired in the past few hours.
It was going to work. They would be friends. Finally.
But what had Dumbledore said about events changing a person? That he could be a different person if he had different experiences?
Well, as far as he was concerned, this Harry was far superior to the old version. This Harry *liked* being around him; he even admitted he was scared in front of Draco and requested that he stay. This Harry smiled at him and laughed with him, not at him. This Harry also seemed to like him more than Ron, which could prove interesting.
But Draco was forgetting a large part of the equation: Hermione.
It was all well and good to have bested Ron, but he wasn't competing with just him. And the Hermione who would be waking up in the morning once the Mandrake Root potion had been administered was the same Hermione who had been petrified. There was no fooling someone that smart that still had all her memories.
At Dumbledore's request, two trays of dinner had been sent to the hospital wing.
So as not to disturb her patient too much, Madame Pomfrey took the trays from the house elves outside the door. She couldn't imagine how startled he would be by seeing things as odd as them. It would be close to a muggle's reaction, she thought.
She approached Mr. Potter's bed and was just clearing her throat to wake her patient when she noticed Mr. Malfoy's position at the bedside. It brought a wistful smile to her normally stern face. He had fallen asleep and was leaning his upper half on the bed by Harry's legs, his head pillowed on his crossed arms. It didn't look comfortable at all.
It was odd, seeing a Malfoy look so vulnerable and angelic. His normally impeccable pale hair was mussed, his pointed face relaxed, and for a moment, she could imagine he wasn't the poison-tongued little sod who always made a big deal about the tiniest injury. She felt compelled to take care of him, as he had obviously taken care of her patient in her absence.
With her wand, Madame Pomfrey prepared the bed to Mr. Potter's right and floated Draco into it. After tucking him in, she placed each of their trays on their bedside tables and put a warming charm on them. Sleep was much more beneficial right now, she thought, and they could just eat when they woke up.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It was well after midnight when Harry woke up. The room was still faintly lit by the bedside lamps, but it took a moment for him to recall where he was and why. He frowned when he saw the empty chair next to his bedside.
"He didn't stay. I thought he would." Harry whispered to himself.
There was something about the blond boy that appealed to him, a toughness he had. He felt comfortable around Draco. He wasn't scared by Harry's lack of memories, like Ron was. And he didn't treat him as if he would shatter under a harsh word like Professor Dumbledore did. But he wasn't plain mean and nasty like the dark-haired professor, whom he knew, even without any of his memories, must be a terrible teacher.
Harry investigated his surroundings, looking for a clock.
He rubbed his eyes when he saw the blond asleep in the next bed. Had he wished him there? Is *that* how magic worked or did he need a stic--er, wand?
Draco was curled on his side facing Harry. He had his palms together and his cheek was resting on them. He looked exactly like this one Precious Moments figurine his Aunt Petunia had. He had to dust her sodding collection every Saturday, so he knew it well.
'Where in the bloody hell had THAT come from?'
Harry's brain was working overtime. Who was Aunt Petunia? Well, his aunt, *obviously,* but why did he dust for her? Was it for money? Did he visit on Saturdays or something?
He strained his mind, reaching for any other slivers of his old memories, but it looked like that bright flash was just a fluke. Harry stopped giving himself a headache and decided to have some fun with "Precious Moments" Draco.
Pushing back his covers, he got out of bed and picked up the glass of water near his dinner. His stomach growled in protest as he ignored the food and made his was to Draco.
Harry stuck his fingers in the water and then held them over Draco's face.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Someone was crying over his fallen body, their tears hitting his cheek. It was Harry. Draco wanted to tell him that he was fine, not dead, but he couldn't seem to move. Harry wiped the tears leaking from his big green eyes off of his streaked cheeks and bent down to kiss Draco's forehead. But the kiss felt as cold and wet as the tears.
Draco started to stir, and Harry bit back a laugh. The last water drop had hit him square on his forehead and was rolling down his pointed nose.
Draco sat up with a start. "Don't cry, Harry!" He said aloud.
Harry stopped biting back his laughter and guffawed, clutching his belly and almost dropping his glass of water.
"What?! Why would I be crying, you ninny!" He really was wiping tears from his eyes now, but they were tears of mirth, not dream tears of loss.
Now, Malfoys don't blush. It is in The Manual under section B3: Unacceptable Bodily Functions (In Public or Otherwise), right after the expulsion of gas and sneezing. It wasn't done. It far was too common and undignified.
But Draco was turning a fetching shade of pink high on his cheekbones that was especially visible, even in the low light of the room, because of his colorless complexion. He must be getting a cold, he reasoned, explaining away his warm cheeks.
Having finished torturing Draco awake, Harry put down the glass of water and sat on Draco's bed.
"How did I get in this bed?" Draco asked.
"I was wondering that myself. I'm guessing it's pretty late. You didn't really have to stay this long, y'know."
Harry saw the other boy's face fall, just a fraction, before his cool mask slipped back into its spot and added hurriedly, "But I'm really glad you did." He patted Draco's hand and smiled shyly.
Draco cleared his suddenly tight throat and pulled away from Harry to get out of the bed. "Well, look's like our food's got warming charms on it. Shall we eat? I'm famished."
"Must've worked up quite an appetite, sleeping and dreaming like you were," Harry teased. "What were you dreaming about, anyway?"
They sat in the chairs between their two beds, trays on their laps and started to eat. It was a plain meal, Draco thought, just roast beef, potatoes, and broccoli. But it was probably because these were foods Harry would most likely recognize.
He wondered how much Harry remembered about the world in general. It was strange; he knew his basic motor functions, how to eat, walk, talk. His vocabulary was at the right level for their age, and he even had a sense of humor. So was it just the magical world he had forgotten? Did he remember life before Hogwarts at all?
Draco was doing his blank stare trick again. Harry didn't think it was healthy to forget you were speaking to someone like that. After all, who was the one with the extreme case of the "I don't remembers" here, him or Draco? He thought maybe it was because he'd made his friend uncomfortable, asking about his dream like he had. Dreams could be very personal.
"It's all right, Draco. You don't have to tell me about your dream. I was just curious since it was my name you woke up saying and all." Harry hinted that he really would like to know, but he was trying not to be too rude about it.
Thinking quickly, Draco said, "You had stubbed your toe on a desk in my dream. I was teasing you, telling you not to cry like a girl. That's all. You were being a big baby about it." A good lie has details, Draco thought. Thank you, Malfoy Manual page 92.
Across the large hospital room, body-binded Gilderoy Lockhart lay pretty much forgotten, listening to everything happening around him. He was trying to come up with a way to talk himself out of the mess he had put himself in, but the conversation between the two sworn enemies was just too interesting. It was almost as if Potter and Malfoy were bonding. It was strange indeed.
He wondered to himself what the punishment was for an infraction this size. It wasn't everyday someone destroyed the biggest hero of the modern magical world.
Elsewhere, Albus Dumbledore was holding a very special meeting with some very special people. The dilemma concerning Lockhart's punishment was far down the list of topics to discuss, way behind the restoration of their fallen hero and the ways to exploit the Potter/Malfoy alliance to their favor. The current discussion topic was Harry's muggle memories and how much they could, or if they even should, restore them.
The Order of the Phoenix was in for a long night.
TBC
A/N: Looong chapter. Whew. I sorta have a direction I'm going in now, but as always, I take requests and suggestions into consideration. Naughty muse, going on vacation in the middle of a story like that. Should be fired, she should. Like it? Hate it with a hot burny passion? Let me know! Thanks!