Lucius Malfoy carried Harry's exhausted body back to his cell after another round of Cruciatus in Voldemort's throne room. Harry kept his eyes closed, trying to keep himself from throwing up, his insides felt as though they were shaking violently and he was feeling hot and cold in turns. His scar was still stinging as beads of sweat and blood trickled onto his closed eyelids.

Lucius kicked the door open and dumped Harry onto the floor. He slowly rolled over onto his back and looked up. Lucius knelt down, his hard, blue eyes staring into Harry's face intently.

"You can't keep this up, Potter," he said without feeling. "I'll be back for you in an hour as usual and I suggest you tell Lord Voldemort what he wants to hear."

"Never," Harry said without blinking.

"Why are you putting yourself through this?" he sneered.

Harry stared back defiantly and remained silent.

Lucius smiled and tilted his head to one side, his long, white-blond hair hanging silkily off his shoulder. "Don't tell me you're still hoping for your friends to rescue you?" he said, with a smirk identical to his son's.

Harry finally had to break eye-contact and look away, biting his lip and trying to force the images of Draco wearing that same expression out of his head.

Lucius' cruel laugh echoed in the tiny room. "Oh, Potter, a Gryffindor through and through."

Harry looked back and lifted his chin proudly. "Yes, I am," he said.

Lucius narrowed his eyes, but kept the cruel smile on his face. "I'll remind you of that ridiculous pride as you beg Lord Voldemort, the greatest Slytherin of our time, for death."

"Fuck you!" Harry spat viciously.

Lucius grabbed a fistful of Harry's hair and wrenched him up, slamming him into the side of the stone table.

"Where are your Gryffindor manners, Potter?" he growled, face inches from Harry's grimace of pain.

Lucius hauled him up by his arms and pushed him onto the table so that he was lying with his back on its cold surface. He quickly locked Harry's wrists and ankles into the chains.

"I'll see you in an hour, Mr Potter," he said, holding Harry's jaw to force him to look into his steely gaze.

He let go with a push and swept out of the cell, extinguishing the torches and slamming the door behind him.

Harry lay breathing deeply and willing his heart to return to normal. He reached up one hand to his face, pulling the chain to its limit, and removed his dirty glasses. He raised his other hand and wiped the sweat out of his eyes, then looked down in shock to see traces of blood on his fingers. He tentatively felt his scar and sighed, wondering how long his body could endure this. He wiped his lenses on his grimy sweater, cleaning them as best he could before placing them back on his nose. He suddenly turned towards the door, body tensed, as he heard someone unlock the bolt and turn the handle.

Peter Pettigrew quickly slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He walked over to Harry, pulling a large, iron key from his cloak and unlocked the restraints.

Harry frantically rolled off the table and scrambled backwards until he was up against the wall.

"It's alright, Harry," he whispered. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Harry eyed him warily as Wormtail approached, crouching down before him so that they were eye to eye.

"I need to talk to you, Harry," he said almost pleadingly. "I need you to trust me."

Harry's jaw dropped open in disbelief. "Trust you?" he exclaimed. "Why should I do that when you tried to have me killed!"

"I want to help you."

Harry searched his face carefully for any trace of honesty. Pettigrew looked a lot thinner than the last time Harry had seen him. His face looked gaunt and lines creased the edges of his small, brown eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, red veins lined the whites of his eyes and there were dark circles underneath. His limp, colourless hair was even thinner, a glimpse of sickly pale skin showing through in patches. Harry glanced down and noticed that he kept his silver hand carefully concealed in the folds of his robe. He looked up, trying to read the eyes of the man who had betrayed his parents and who had been willing to watch him die six years ago.

The eyes in front of him were not the fearful and calculating ones that he remembered, but shone with a wide-open honesty.

"What do you want?" Harry asked hesitantly.

A flicker of relief flashed across Pettigrew's face as he settled cross-legged on the floor.

"I know what you must think of me, Harry," he said. "And I can't deny that I deserve your contempt."

Peter sighed and took a deep breath while Harry waited curiously for him to explain.

"I did betray your parents," he continued. "And all I can say is that I was scared and an utter coward. I won't insult you by trying to apologize, even though I'm sorrier than you'll ever know, because there's nothing I can say that would make you forgive me. I don't expect your forgiveness, Harry, I just want to try to make it up to James and Lily in some small way."

Harry tried to keep his anger in check as his parents names fell from the lips of their murderer. He knew that if Wormtail was telling the truth, then this could be his only chance for escape.

"How?" he asked warily.

"I'm going to tell you how to defeat Voldemort."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. "How do I know this isn't a trick?" he asked.

"You don't," Pettigrew answered honestly. "And I would love to be able to prove myself to you and gain your trust, but there just isn't time. Harry, listen to me, I know the Dark Lord and I know that your refusals to die are starting to try his patience. Soon he will snap and kill you anyway."

"What am I supposed to do?" Harry asked, not believing a word Pettigrew was saying.

Peter reached into his robe and pulled something out. "Recognize this?" he asked.

Harry let his guard down completely and leaned forward in excitement. "My wand!" he exclaimed.

Peter nodded and held it out. Harry cautiously closed his fingers around the familiar length of his holly and phoenix feather wand.

"Where did you get it?" he asked, looking it over in amazement.

"I stole it from your flat," Peter paused thoughtfully. "Actually, it was pretty easy, there were hardly any guards at all. I wonder why there wasn't more security around it? Surely, it's pretty important..."

Harry glanced from his wand to Pettigrew's face, starting to believe him.

"But I can't fight everyone on my own," Harry pointed out. "Even with your help."

"You won't have to," Peter explained. "All you have to do is kill Voldemort and all the Death Eaters will remain powerless for about twenty minutes. The Marks we bear on our arms connect us to Lord Voldemort and he draws power from us when he needs it. As you fight him, he will be drawing power from the Death Eaters and when he dies the strength he took from us will take a little bit of time to return, giving you just enough time to escape."

"So I have to duel with Voldemort again?" he asked with a sinking heart, knowing that he wasn't nearly strong enough to go up against his nemesis alone.

"It won't be like the last time," Peter replied. "The wands will connect again with a thin beam of golden light, but there won't be a regurgitation of past spells."

"What will happen?" Harry asked curiously, part of him feeling relieved that he wouldn't have to see the ghosts of his family and friends again.

"Remember that bead of light that travelled along the connection? The one that you forced into Voldemort's wand?"

Harry nodded, remembering that horrible night when it had taken everything he had just to stay on his feet and fight back.

"This time when the bead touches a wand the holder will be instantly killed."

Harry felt his pulse weaken. "What?" he whispered. "What if I can't do it?"

"You will," Peter said with conviction.

Harry once again looked at the wand clutched in his hand, feeling completely unsure of himself.

"There's something else I have to tell you, Harry."

Harry looked up in trepidation.

"When Lord Voldemort says 'Avada Kedavra,' you have to say the counter curse."

"But there is no counter curse for Avada Kedavra," Harry said in confusion.

"Not usually, but when two brother wands are forced to do battle a second time, there is a curse that you can evoke to cause the bead of light to be lethal to its victim."

"What is the counter curse?"

"Alcestis," Peter pronounced slowly.

"Alcestis," Harry repeated, sounding it out carefully.

"Right." Peter nodded approvingly. "Point your wand at Voldemort as he's saying Avada Kedavra and just shout it out."

Harry nodded his head uncertainly and mumbled the spell under his breath a few times to ingrain it into his mind.

"Oh, and Harry," Peter suddenly interrupted. "Also, I have to tell you that you must not break the connection once it has been formed, if you do, it will kill you both."

"Okay..." Harry swallowed nervously.

"Don't worry, the Death Eaters know that if they interfere, then Voldemort will be killed too, so they won't be a problem. Also, I'll be there and I can help if anything unexpected happens."

Harry nodded again, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.

"The rest will be up to you," Peter said as he gathered his short legs beneath him and stood up. He extended a hand to Harry when he saw that he was still extremely worn out and sore from the Cruciatus he was tortured with only an hour before.

Harry stared at the proffered help, waiting for a sense of betrayal to wash over him as he reached for the hand of his parent's murderer. Strangely he felt nothing.

Peter noticed Harry's slight hesitation as he helped him over to sit on the edge of the stone table.

"I don't know what to say to make you trust me, Harry," he sighed. "But you have to believe that I only want to help you."

Harry looked away uncomfortably. "It's not that I don't believe what you've told me..." he started slowly. "It's just that...it feels wrong to be accepting your help...or even trusting you..."

"I understand," Peter smiled wistfully. "Sirius was right, I should have given my life to save James and Lily. We loved each other like family, and you should always value love over everything...even your own life. I swear I'm just trying to help you Harry, to do for you what I should have done for James all those years ago."

Harry looked at him for a moment, deep in thought. "I...believe you," he said hesitantly.

"Thank you," Peter whispered, eyes shining with unshed tears and giving the first true smile Harry had seen on him.

It was then that Harry noticed how completely changed Wormtail was, not just on the outside, he could see the man his father was best friends with beneath the haggard exterior.

Harry suddenly remembered something Dumbledore had said to him back when he was just thirteen years old.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"Pettigrew owes his life to you. You have sent Voldemort a deputy who is in your debt. When one wizard saves another wizard's life, it creates a certain bond between them...and I'm much mistaken if Voldemort wants his servant in the debt of Harry Potter."

"I don't want a bond with Pettigrew!" Harry had said indignantly. "He betrayed my parents!"

"This is magic at its deepest, it's most impenetrable, Harry. But trust me...the time may come when you will be very glad you saved Pettigrew's life."


~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry snapped out of his reverie. He knew that he would never doubt Dumbledore again.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Peter, throat too tight to speak, merely nodded in gratitude.

Suddenly, the faint echo of footsteps reached the cell door. Peter gasped, ran to the door, and looked into the hallway.

"They're coming now, Harry," he said, face pale. "Do you remember the counter curse?"

"Alcestis."

"Good boy," Peter nodded. "Don't forget, right as he says 'Avada Kedavra'."

Harry nodded nervously.

"Good luck, Harry Potter." Peter flashed him an encouraging smile and shut the door. Harry heard the click of the bolt and hastily retreating footsteps.

About three sets of heavy footsteps were progressively getting louder from the other direction.

Harry quickly hid his wand in the waistband of his jeans.

Just as the bolt was being released on the door, Harry realized that he had forgotten to re-shackle himself to the table again.

       Lucius Malfoy walked in and started at the sight of Harry sitting up on the table, chains lying uselessly on the floor. Lucius rushed up to him and wrapped a hand around his throat.

"How did you do this, boy?" he demanded.

"I...broke them," he lied.

Lucius eyed him and squeezed his hand tighter around Harry's neck.

"I don't believe you," he whispered. "You're not strong enough to break iron and you're too weak to perform any wandless magic."

Harry remained silent, praying that he wouldn't find his hidden wand.

"Just in case you're planning something for in the throne room, I'm afraid I'm going to have to take these."

Lucius removed the hand from around Harry's neck and lifted the glasses off of his face. Harry's eyes widened in horror as his vision slipped out of focus and everything around him became fuzzy.

"No!" he yelled desperately, reaching out his hand.

Lucius smirked, slipped the glasses into his robe, and grabbed one of Harry's flailing wrists. "Let's go," he ordered, jerking Harry off the table.

Harry reluctantly followed the blurry form of Lucius Malfoy out the door. He bent in one elbow to make sure his wand was still there and was relieved when he felt it poking into his sweater.

Harry mentally prepared himself, repeating the counter curse over and over in his mind as he walked on to meet Voldemort for the last time.