(A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Michelle (Neurotica), with the hope that her surgery went well.)

Harry snatched his wand from where it was lying on the dresser and locked his door. It wouldn't hold against someone else with a wand, or even a determined person without one, but it would slow people down some.

He grabbed a pillow, threw it into the air with his left hand, and brought his wand up with his right, shouting, "Reducto!"

The pillow exploded, raining feathers everywhere. Harry repeated this process on his other pillow, then aimed a "Diffindo!" at his mattress, laying a gash open in it, and started ripping out handfuls of stuffing.

He knew he was being childish, but he didn't care. As long as he could destroy things, he didn't have to think about what had just happened.

And then, of course, by not thinking about it, he was thinking about it.

I am NOT Malfoy's brother. I never was. I never will be. He's a double-dyed pureblood bastard, and I hate his bloody guts. He's insulted me and Sirius and Remus, and Ron and the Weasleys, and Hermione and her family, more times than I can count. If he's not already a Death Eater, he's probably counting the days.

The only reason he'd say something that crazy is if he really is mad. Or if he's on some kind of mission for the Death Eaters, trying to get in here so he can kill me, or someone else, or capture us.

He stopped, one hand full of mattress stuffing.

Or he could be telling the truth.

Remus had taught him, long ago, about the three choices when someone said something hard to believe. Either that person was crazy, a liar, or telling the truth. It was up to the listeners to decide which one.

Harry growled and returned to ripping up his mattress. There's no way that can be true. It's bloody insane. How could there be another world? Another Malfoy? Another me?

The mattress was now thoroughly gutted. The room looked as if a sheep or two, and several chickens, had wandered through and been badly scared, causing them to shed and/or molt all at the same time. Harry, his energy sapped for the moment, sat down limply in the middle of what had been his bed.

It was there that a little piece of memory found its way into the front of his brain.

Malfoy hadn't told the story. Madam Freeman had.

So she's in with him too.

But Madam Freeman was a member of the Order. A new member, but a member, who could find her way to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. And that meant Dumbledore trusted her.

So? Maybe Dumbledore's wrong. Maybe he missed something.

But that was stupid. Dumbledore wouldn't miss something as obvious as a person being supportive of the Death Eaters when he was checking on them. He wouldn't let anyone within a mile of Grimmauld Place who couldn't be trusted, and he certainly wouldn't sign up anyone who was crazy.

So that left the last option, and the one least to Harry's taste.

The story was true.

Someone tapped on his door.

"What?"

"It's me, Harry," said Hermione's voice. "May I come in?"

Harry sighed. "Hold on." He picked up his wand and unlocked the door. "It's open."

The door swung open. The calico cat bounded delicately inside, checking as it saw the devastation within. Hermione, on its heels, looked nearly as shocked. "What did you do?"

"Ripped things up," said Harry in a monotone. "If you're going to yell at me, you might as well leave."

"I'm not." Hermione shut the door behind herself, went over to a chair, and brushed off the feathers and stuffing covering the seat. The cat chased after the feathers as they floated to the ground, pouncing on them and batting them here and there with its forepaws, and Harry smiled a little without meaning to.

"So why are you here?" he asked finally, when the cat tired of its game and found a clear spot on the carpet to curl up in.

"I thought you might need someone to talk to."

"Maybe." Harry was still watching the cat, who was kneading his carpet with its claws. He suddenly felt suspicious. "Is that a person?" he demanded, pointing at the cat.

"Yes, she is. She says we can call her Neenie."

"She's you, isn't she?"

"No. Not really." Hermione picked up a piece of stuffing and began playing with it. "Harry, they explained it to us, a little bit, after you left. Do you want me to try to explain it to you?"

"Go ahead," said Harry. "You can't possibly confuse me any more than I already am."

Hermione smiled slightly. "All right. In the first place, they never asked for this, any more than we did. And they want nothing more than to get this over with and go home. So that's something we have in common."

Harry nodded firmly.

"In the second place, they're not us. They're a lot like us, but we're not the same. We've had different things happen to us, and at different times."

"Like what?"

Hermione looked down at the floor. "Neenie never knew her parents," she said quietly. "They died when she was a baby. She grew up with her older sister and her husband, and their two best friends."

"OK." Harry looked again at the cat. It looked back at him, directness stopping just short of being challenging in its gaze. "But her name is Hermione Granger, isn't it?"

"Mmmm... yes, she says, yes, it is."

"And if she was human, she'd look like you."

"Mostly. She's showed me some of her memories, and we look a little different, but not much." Hermione shifted in her chair. "Harry, there's something about all this you need to understand."

"What's that?"

"Of everyone who had a counterpart – that's Sirius, Remus, you, me, and Draco–"

Harry rounded on her. "Since when d'you call him by his first name?"

"There's no need to shout at me!"

"Yes, there is! You're forgetting everything he's ever done to us! He's Lucius Malfoy's son, Hermione! All he's ever wanted to be is a Death Eater! Trusting him is like trusting a dragon! For all we know, he's already told his father all about us, and there's Death Eaters in the woods right now, just waiting for his signal!"

Hermione shot to her feet. "Will you shut up and listen to me!"

"I will, once you start making sense!"

"I am making sense, if you'd just listen!"

Harry took another breath, then stopped himself and let it slowly out. "All right," he said with exaggerated calm. "All right. I'm listening. Look how nicely I'm listening. Go right ahead."

"Thank you," said Hermione with equally exaggerated politeness, sitting down again. "Harry, you weren't listening earlier. That's not Draco Malfoy out there. It's his body, but it's not his mind or his soul inside it. His mind and soul are inside an animal body, like Neenie's are."

Harry took a moment to sort this out. "How did that happen?"

"The person who is using that body worked the magic to make it happen. He won't tell us what kind of animal it is, I think it must be embarrassing to Malfoy somehow..."

"Probably a ferret," said Harry with a grin. "So if it's not Malfoy, who is it?"

"You really weren't listening. His name is Draco Black. He's Draco Malfoy's counterpart, but they're really different. They're the most different of any of the pairs."

"Let me guess. He was Draco Malfoy once, but he's changed?"

Hermione nodded.

Harry snorted, disgusted. "Hermione, I thought you were smarter than this. Once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. He can't have changed that much."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "I thought you were going to listen to me."

"Fine, fine, all right."

"Draco Black spent less time with the Malfoys than you did with the Dursleys, Harry. He was adopted when he was four, and he never went back. He grew up in a decent house, with parents who cared about him, and other children around."

"Like who?"

"Like Neenie. And like the other Harry. And that's part of what I was trying to tell you."

"So what are you trying to tell me?"

"Harry, out of everyone who had their counterparts in their minds, you and the other world's Harry are the most alike. Both of you care about Sirius and Remus, and about me and Ron and Ginny, and you both have to fight Voldemort and try to save the world."

Harry fidgeted. He didn't like thinking about another him, as though he weren't the only one there was. "So what?"

"So the biggest difference between you is that when you look at Draco, you see an enemy. He sees a friend. A brother."

"Good."

"No, not good!"

"Yes good! There need to be some differences between us!"

"Why?"

Harry stared at her. Didn't she understand anything? "Because... just because!"

"Harry, you don't understand. Your counterpart – the other Harry – he's inside your mind, right now, and if he stays there much longer, he'll be assimilated into you. There won't be anything left of him. Someone already tried to find him, and couldn't."

Harry felt his face heating up. "So now there's people poking around in my head? Without even bothering to ask?"

"It's not like that! She wasn't looking at anything, it's not like she was trying to get at your memories or change you–"

"How do you know that? How do you know anything? How do you know she isn't lying?"

"Because she's Neenie's sister, and she cares about you!"

"No, she cares about the other me. She probably doesn't give a rat's arse about me. The real me. The real Harry Potter." Harry jerked his head around to glare at the cat. "You can tell her from me," he said savagely, "to bloody well stay out of my head. All the time, from now on. And that goes for everyone. Now get out." He pointed at the door.

The cat got up and took its leave, pausing after every few steps to shake feathers from its paws.

"Harry, if you'd just listen–"

Harry spun back to face Hermione. "No. I'm sick of listening. You listen for once. You want to believe these people and play their stupid game, that's fine. But don't ask me to. And when it blows up in your face like a Dungbomb, don't expect me to help. It's your problem, and your worry." He looked around the room. "I have to clean up in here. Excuse me?"

Hermione got to her feet again. "I'll go," she said. "But after I tell you one more thing."

Harry shook his head hard. "No. No 'one more thing', Hermione. Your 'one more thing' always turns into ten more things, and nine of them are scolds. I'm really sick of you scolding me. It's not your job. Now would you please leave? Please?"

Hermione left. Harry slumped on the ruins of his bed, feeling more tired than he usually did at the end of the day.

I'd give anything if none of this had ever happened...

"I'm sorry," said Hermione quietly to the cat waiting outside the door. "I tried."

I know you did. He's awfully pig-headed sometimes, isn't he?

"Oh, yes." Hermione tried to smile, but her heart wasn't in it, as she thought of what she should have said.

"That other boy inside your head is a person, Harry. Just as much a person as you. If you don't help get him free – if you let the assimilation finish – you'll have killed him. And without him to help them work the magic, I don't think his family can ever go home."

We can try, said Neenie. And we will try.

But something in her tone told Hermione she knew trying wouldn't be much good.

Neenie watched her counterpart walk away, headed not even she knew where.

I hope she'll be all right. I can't imagine losing even one of the Pack-parents – and that would still leave three. She only had two, and she lost them both at once...

But if we can't go home, what will happen to us? How long can we stay here, like this, without losing ourselves in the animals, the way we almost did in the others?

She had wandered back into the living room without realizing it. Moony was lying near the fireplace in the library lion pose, his tail twitching slightly, the only sign that he was not a very lifelike sculpture. Neenie trotted around to where he could see her and voiced her feelings in a small, plaintive mew.

Moony sighed, then stood up and stretched slightly. He bent his head down and picked her up from the ground, his jaws closing delicately around her. Neenie went limp in his hold as he carried her toward the door, which he pushed open with a paw.

The sun was warm in the grassy area around the house. Moony chose a spot far enough away that they would not be disturbed, then set her gently on her four paws and lay down next to her. She curled up against him and began to purr, trying to cheer herself with the sound. Although lions couldn't purr as such, Moony allowed his breathing to be ruled by hers, until they were inhaling and exhaling to the same rhythm. It was peaceful, familiar, comforting...

The scream of a hawk brought her upright in a flash. Joyously she searched the skies, until she remembered that she was far from home, and no hawk here called for her.

Gently, Moony pulled her back to his side with a paw, and let her bury her face in his mane and make the only sound that properly deserved the name "caterwaul".

I want to go home.

After Harry's precipitous retreat, Dumbledore had gone into a quiet colloquy with several of the animals and humans crowding the living room. Sirius had headed for the kitchen, muttering something along the lines of "visitors from another world or not, we have to eat". Remus and Emmeline had been left to their own devices.

Remus had wanted nothing more than a little peace and quiet. And to ask Emmeline a question.

"How did you know her name?" he asked when they were back in his bedroom.

"Whose?"

"Don't play stupid, please. The wolf. Danger, you called her?"

"Yes. She visited me in a dream. She was human there, but she told me she was with the wolves in the Forest at Hogwarts."

"What did she look like?" Remus had a suspicion, but he wanted it confirmed.

"Like a grown-up Hermione. Our age, or thereabouts. Why?"

Remus sat down on the bed, shaking his head. "I dreamed of her," he said. "I suppose it was him dreaming of her, really, but I remember it. Did she tell you anything about... them?"

Emmeline nodded, sitting down beside him. "They're married, and have been for a long time. Hermione – Neenie, their Hermione – is their ward. I saw..." She stopped.

"What?"

"She showed me a memory of hers. A piece out of their lives. They looked so happy, Remus. They've loved each other for so long that they take it for granted – but they don't. Can you take something for granted without losing your appreciation for it? They expect each other to be there, but they don't forget to be grateful for it..." She looked up from the floor, her eyes bright. "I want to have that with you."

Well, that's a different place than I expected that little speech to go.

"I'd like to have it with you too," Remus admitted. "Very much. And..."

Oh, what the hell. We both know it'd get here eventually. It might as well be now. "This is probably the wrong time to ask you this, and I'm horribly underprepared, but I hope you'll take the thought for the deed." He slid off the bed and went to one knee at her feet. "Emmeline Vance, will you marry me?"

Sirius, in the kitchen, dropped an egg at the shriek that emerged from Remus' bedroom.

Got it, said a voice beside him, making him jump again. He looked down. The black dog was offering him the egg, slightly slobbery but unbroken.

"Thank you," said Sirius, accepting the egg and going to the sink to rinse it off.

Any idea what that's about?

"Nope. I'll probably find out eventually, though. Nothing in this house stays a secret for long."

Tell me about it...

Somewhat later in the morning, breakfast had been finished and the dishes washed. The lion and the wolf had returned from hunting, Remus and Emmeline had emerged, and everyone in the house, except Harry, was gathered once more in the living room to talk. Draco sat cross-legged between lion and wolf, with the cat in his lap, her paw on his arm and her tail gently held under one of the wolf's paws. Meghan had one arm around the dog's neck.

"We need something to call you all," said Sirius, looking around at the animals. "Something that won't make the rest of us wonder who it is."

"Really, we only need two," said Remus. "And couldn't we just use Padfoot and Moony for them, and our proper names for us?"

The dog snorted, as if protesting being relegated to a mere nickname. The lion yawned ostentatiously, and the dog fell silent.

"All right, then," said Sirius. "So you're Padfoot and Moony, Danger and Neenie." He pointed in turn to dog, lion, wolf, and cat.

"We should also have something to call your Harry by," put in Emmeline. "Even if he's not here in his own person right now, eventually he will be, and we're going to be talking about him as well."

"Wolf," said Draco. "We can call him Wolf."

"Why Wolf?" asked Remus.

"It's his Animagus form."

"So, with that being settled," said Dumbledore, in his polite way taking charge of the group, "I have several topics which I think should be discussed. First, restoring your lost items to you."

Draco held up his hand. "Moony doesn't think we should try to do the full group without Harry," he said politely. "He doesn't think it would work properly. It would be off balance."

"What do you suggest, then?" Dumbledore asked.

Draco paused for a moment, as if listening. "Just the adults," he said finally. "They're balanced, two and two, and it's possible you could even get the full set with just their memories. We were only ten when it happened."

About to ask, Sirius bit his tongue. When what happened? he asked Padfoot silently instead.

You're learning, said Padfoot approvingly. We created magical necklaces that we always wear, that tell us if the other people wearing them are in need of help. Even if they don't give us any actual magical help in this situation, it would be one more way for us to feel more like ourselves again. Like getting my wand back.

Your wand back?

Padfoot displayed the appropriate memory, of a man and a woman sitting on a couch together, the woman handing the man a long, thin cylinder of mahogany.

Hey, me too! Sirius brought up his memory of Dumbledore returning his mahogany wand to him, in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts. Just for fun, he rewound the memory slightly and let it play. Watch this.

McGonagall hugged you? Padfoot chuckled. I wish. Have a look how she found out about me.

Sirius nearly choked holding in his laughter. Lucky bastard, he said mournfully. I've always secretly wanted to chase her up a tree.

Well, what about the time... whoops. I'm needed. And you might want to watch this.

Sirius brought his attention back to his physical surroundings. From somewhere, Dumbledore had produced his Pensieve, and was placing eight small chunks of metal inside it. They were a dull grey and seemed heavy for their size.

"Is that lead?" asked Hermione, leaning forward.

"Yes," said Dumbledore, sounding quite pleased that she had recognized it. "Yes, it is indeed lead."

He removed two bottles from his pockets. The first was filled with fine dust, which he poured over the lumps of lead. The second held a red liquid, which he also poured into the Pensieve, then traced a circular motion over its surface with his wand, causing it to stir. "And now the memories, if you would, friends," he said. "Think hard of that night, and what you did."

Moony presented his head first, then Danger, then Padfoot. Aletha withdrew her own memory and added it to the swirling mass in the Pensieve, which had managed to mingle red and white without turning pink. Sirius would have loved to know how that was possible, but it was.

Dumbledore nodded to Moony.

Don't yell, Padfoot advised. He has wandless fire magic.

Thus pre-warned, Sirius kept from yelping in surprise when the carpet under the Pensieve caught fire. Remus must have been warned as well, as he had whispered something into Emmeline's ear just before the fire erupted, and neither of them had shown outward signs of startlement. Hermione gasped a little, but more as though the fire were expected but still disturbing.

So does having fire magic mean he can mend that big burned spot on the carpet? Sirius asked.

No, it means there won't be any big burned spot. The fire's burning air only, nothing else. It won't hurt anything.

Handy.

Oh, you have no idea. He's got amazing control, too. Remind me to tell you the target-practice story.

Dumbledore pointed his wand at the Pensieve turned cauldron and began to chant quietly, his words rising and falling hypnotically. Meghan had come around to sit next to Draco and was leaning against him, his arm around her, both of them craning their necks in fascination. Sirius wasn't ashamed to admit he was fascinated himself. What would these things look like?

He jerked back and Emmeline gasped as a small fireball erupted in the Pensieve itself.

Don't worry, that's normal, said Padfoot quickly. Any second now, we ought to see... ah, yes!

Sirius fanned the smoke away from his eyes and looked. A tangle of bright gold chains and medallions met his eyes. The liquid, the lead, and the dust were all gone.

"Your memories should be bound into your pendants," said Dumbledore, looking very pleased with himself. "And I see we have indeed managed to restore all eight, instead of only four."

Draco, Meghan, and Aletha were busy for a few moments sorting out which set belonged to whom. Sirius watched interestedly as the chains stretched to fit over the heads of the animals, then shortened up so as not to drag on the ground. Finally, Draco held only one chain in his hands. Sirius saw a cloud pass over his features, making him look, for one moment, like Draco Malfoy, and he crumpled the chain in his hand and turned away, going back to his place next to Meghan and Neenie.

What's wrong?

Padfoot didn't answer for a moment. Those are Harry's, he said finally. Our Harry's. Wolf, we were going to call him, weren't we? Whatever. They belong to him.

Sirius winced. I'm sorry.

It's not your fault. Your Harry's a normal teenage boy. Scared stiff by this. Nothing wrong with that.

There might be nothing wrong with it, but Sirius felt vaguely insulted. And just whose Harry is dominant here? he asked. Whose godson is the boss in his own mind?

Oh, yeah, I'd be so proud, sneered Padfoot. If my Wolf were murdering someone else's child by being a spoiled brat who can't handle anything outside his own experience.

That did it. Counterpart or not, there was only so much Sirius would take on the subject of Harry. He stood up, crossed the room, and kicked Padfoot hard in the side.

Padfoot leapt on him, snarling. Sirius fought back, kicking and punching, trying to keep the dog's jaws away from his throat... he knew, too well, what they could do if they got close enough...

A spell struck them both, separating them and throwing them away from each other, across the room. Dumbledore frowned at them. "I would like an explanation," he said precisely, the twinkle in his eyes gone. "Now."

Padfoot licked a sore spot on his side. I never thought I'd be glad not to be able to speak aloud. It's all yours.

Sirius made a rude gesture in his counterpart's direction and gave Dumbledore a short, rather halting explanation.

Aletha raised an eyebrow at Remus and Emmeline. "I'm beginning to see why counterparts shouldn't be together a lot," she said. "If you thought too much of a good thing was bad..."

The rest of the room thought this was rather funny.

Dumbledore sighed. "I understand that the topic of Harry may be a touchy one at the moment," he said. "Nonetheless, I would ask you – all of you – to refrain from further fights or quarrels. There are more serious aspects of this world-to-world transference. I have been able to confer with my own counterpart, who remains in his own world, from whence you came," he bowed slightly to Danger and Moony, "and the results to both our tests show an alarming trend. As a direct result of this incident, magic in both worlds is beginning to degrade."

"Degrade?" asked Remus, coming to full attention immediately. "How do you mean?"

"Small spells, at the moment, seem the most likely to go wrong. They do not work, or do not work correctly. Only wanded magic seems affected. Apparition and Animagus transformations, for instance, are as reliable as they have ever been."

"So we're not going to lose what grips we have on these bodies," said Aletha, looking relieved. "That was wandless as well."

"Yes. But I believe that if you are to be sent safely home, part of that magic must be wanded, and therefore it must be done quickly. The degradation does not seem to be progressing in a linear fashion, but rather an exponential one."

Remus swore. Emmeline looked grim.

"Translation?" said Sirius, feeling somewhat stupid.

"It started slow, but it's going to get worse fast," said Emmeline. "And the longer it goes on, the faster it gets worse."

Sirius grimaced. "So even if I do get my magic back, it might not matter."

Remus shook his head. "No. We can't let that happen. It would ruin everything we work for, everything we care about."

"Not to mention, it'd be hell on the war," said Emmeline quietly. "Plenty of wandless Dark magic."

Remus nodded. "If they return home," he asked Dumbledore, "would that repair what's wrong?"

Dumbledore inclined his head. "So we believe."

Sirius laughed. "So it's easy," he said. "We figure out how to send them home, and we send them, and that fixes the magic. Kill two Fwoopers with one spell, and everybody's happy." He stopped, noticing the looks he was getting. "Right?"

No one would meet his eyes. Finally, Draco looked up. "We all have to go back, if it's going to work right," he said. "All of us."

He opened his hand and let something spill out.

The gold chain Padfoot had said belonged to their Harry.

Suddenly it didn't look so easy.

(A/N: A little shorter than they've been running lately, but I think you'll forgive me. Especially when I tell you that I think the climax will be coming up in either the next chapter or the one after that! So let me know what you think will happen, or if you don't have a clue, and how you're liking it so far.

Just so you know, I have little to no inside information on the future of the Truths universe. Anything which happens in this story, stays in this story, and will have no bearing on the actual future of either universe. (I do know one thing, but I promised not to tell.) So enjoy, review, Yahoo, and all that jazz...)