With Christmas right around the corner, there was a certain buzz in the castle. The grounds were now entirely white, and it snowed more almost every day. Throughout the castle, Christmas decorations were being put up by teachers, prefects and even ghosts. The Bloody Baron was always present whenever there was any decorating going on, to make sure Peeves didn't try pulling any shit.

With the approaching holidays, there was a further increase in the amount of work us students had to do, as teachers were all determined to get as much work done before Christmas as humanly possible.

That, combined with the massive volume of homework they would assign us for the holidays.

On the last day of school, I got a letter at breakfast, which was odd. The only mail I usually received was The Daily Prophet, The Quidditch Times, or some potions ingredients I would order if I ran out. What's more is that I was addressed to me but it was sent from Caen, in France.

The letter read:

Dear Draco,

How are you darling? I hope this letter makes it in time; this whole affair came up right at the last minute.

Your father and I are in Normandy. There was some business regarding one of our summer residences – some legal troubles. It'll take a while to smooth over, so we won't be back at the manor till after New Year. I think it's best you don't come home for the holidays this year.

Sorry to the bearer of bad news, but like I said, it just came up at the last minute. You father isn't very pleased either.

Lots of love,

Mum

Well… guess that was that.

To be honest, I was a bit relieved. I was just realizing I hadn't given the issue of my parents (god that felt weird to say) much thought. This bought me till the end of the year at least. Additionally, with almost all the student body gone, I'd practically have the whole castle to myself! With no classes, Quidditch practice or prefect duties, the next two-odd weeks would be plenty of time for me to practice spells, catch up on homework and sleep.

Although… Malfoy Manor would be empty if I decided to go. Being unsupervised, I could have had the chance to do something about the Horcruxes. Maybe the ring, since out of all the Horcruxes of which I knew the specific location, the ring was the easiest one to reach. But I decided against it. The ring and the Gaunt Shack were both likely guarded by a metric fuck ton of defensive spells and I was nowhere even close in terms of skill to being able to pass those.

Only way I had been able to destroy the diadem had been because Voldy had just chucked it into the Room of Requirement and thought that would be enough, and he hadn't had the time to set up extensive defensive measures.

Plus, who's to say my parents were actually away in Normandy. For all I know, they could be plotting some Death Eater shit in the Manor and wanted to keep me away from it. It would be pretty awkward if I returned home in that scenario.

So it's settled then. I was staying at the castle for the holidays.

I talked to other people throughout the rest of the day, it seemed almost all of Slytherin House at least, was going away for the holidays, so that was fun.

After classes let out for the day, while all the other students were probably busy packing their stuff, I went to the Room of Requirement. I double checked on the map, just in time to see over a dozen students I knew to be DA members exiting the seventh-floor corridor, meaning a meeting had just concluded.

I'd practiced a lot of the main spells from the books over the last couple weeks. I had been thinking of doing the Patronus for a while now too. Everyone in the books and movies always talks about how advanced the Patronus is, but to be fair… the DA are a bunch of fifteen-year-olds who were able to learn it in a very limited amount of time.

Granted, they had Harry, who was a pretty good teacher. But still, I think a Patronus was doable. Difficult, but doable.

The Room (as with pretty much everything else) was equipped for Patronus training as well. It couldn't summon boggarts or dementors of course, but it could summon Dementoids, which were dummies that emulated Dementors but not quite as extreme. They were used by the Ministry of Magic as part of Auror training.

But first, I needed to get the hang of the spell itself before I could move on to any of that.

Okay, I needed a good memory, a happy one. Really happy.

Well… shit, that turned out to be pretty tough, actually. I had a fair number of happy memories, both from this life and my old one, but I don't really think any of them would be strong enough to produce an effective patronus. Draco didn't have that many either. His life wasn't miserable per se; he had quite a few happy memories. It's just none of them would suffice. Also, who knows if Draco's memories would even work for me in the first place.

I tried a few of my own memories, but they didn't do anything. After a solid hour of trying, all I had managed to achieve was a tiny, faint whisp of white smoke. The memory I had used for that had been the first time I rode a broomstick post-reincarnation.

The process was surprisingly exhausting too, so I was ready to give up after an hour, but as I was leaving, one particular memory did come to my head. One that, as I thought about it, I realized I should have used way earlier.

I raised my wand again, and concentrated with all my might on that memory. The memory of the first time I had seen Hogwarts in all its incredible, magical beauty, over three months ago – riding in that Thestral-pulled carriage – and understood that what was happening was real; that I really had come to Hogwarts, that my childhood dream really had come true.

I'd never forget that incredible moment, and nor would I forget the sheer euphoria I had felt then. So, as I uttered the incantation while recalling that memory, I felt my wand start to buzz slightly, and a shroud of glowing white mist erupted from the end, spreading out several feet in every direction for a few seconds, before vanishing.

I… had just successfully produced a patronus… fuck YEAH!

Granted, it had only lasted a few seconds before fizzling out, and yes, it hadn't been a corporeal patronus, meaning it would only keep the dementor at bay instead of chasing it down, but it was a damn good start.

[…]

The next morning, the common room was significantly more chaotic than usual, as many students darted in and out of their dormitories, doing last minute packing or making sure they hadn't forgotten anything.

Boy I'm sure glad I didn't have to worry about that.

I made my way down (or actually, up) to the Great Hall for breakfast. The hall was only half-full, I imagine the other half was busy packing as well.

I sat down next to Daphne, who was reading the Daily Prophet.

"Morning," I said.

"Morning," she replied.

"You finished packing?"

She looked up at me. "No, I'm not going."

"How come? Weren't you saying a couple days ago you wanted to go?"

"Yeah, well, change of plans. I found out my cousins from Birmingham were spending the holidays with us. They're a bunch of little shits, so I decided to stay here," she said.

"And your parents are okay with you skipping out like this?"

"Oh, absolutely not," she said seriously. "In fact, there's probably a Howler on the way right now to cuss me out."

As if on cue, the mail owls flew in and started delivering, well… mail.

A barn owl flew over us and dropped a letter in front of Daphne, who picked it up and let out a sigh.

"If you'll excuse me," she said before getting up and jogging out of the Hall.

"Does this mean Astoria is staying too?" I called after her.

"Yeah!" she yelled back.

Okay… so on one hand, I was gonna have company in Slytherin for the holidays, which might impact my plans for the holidays – namely extensive spell training in the Room.

But on the other hand, the company would be two cute girls… so maybe it's not too bad after all.

As I was eating breakfast, I happened to noticed that none of the Weasleys were present at the Gryffindor table. Neither was Harry, but Hermione was.

In all likelihood, this meant they had left during the night when Harry had seen Mr. Weasley getting attacked by the snake.

Honestly, I dunno what I could have done to prevent that… in fact, I don't think I would have wanted to, either. Because as terrible as Mr. Weasley's injuries were, it was a necessary event, since now Dumbledore and the others knew for certain the extent of Harry's connection with Voldemort.

[…]

(Meanwhile, in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, London)

Harry been laying on his bed, sickly looking and completely still, ever since he had returned from visiting Ron's dad at Saint Mungo's.

It seemed so bizarre, so surreal, that barely twenty-four hours ago, he had been marveling at the progress of the DA, and eagerly looking forward to spending the holidays with Sirius… that he had kissed Cho Chang, his long-time crush, under the mistletoe. All of that seemed so distant, as though it had happened months ago rather than barely a day.

Now, his mind was preoccupied with much, much worse matters. Mr. Weasley had been attacked by a giant snake, and he, Harry, had seen it happen in a dream. That was more than enough to disturb someone greatly, but what bothered Harry even more was the he had been the snake. He had been the one who struck Mr. Weasley.

And then there had been the conversation between Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Mad-Eye he had overheard at the hospital via the Extendable Ears. In fact, now he wished he hadn't heard it.

"…they searched the whole area but couldn't find the snake anywhere," Moody had said. "I reckon You-Know-Who sent it as a lookout. He's not had much luck so far, has he? No, I reckon he's trying to get a closer picture of what he's up against. If Arthur hadn't been there, the beast would have had a lot more time to look around. You're saying Potter saw it all happen?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley had replied uneasily. "Y'know, it seems as though Dumbledore was… almost waiting for Harry to see something like this."

"Yeah well. There's something funny about that kid alright."

"Dumbledore seemed worried about Harry when I spoke to him this morning."

"Course he's worried. The boy's seeing things from inside You-Know-Who's snake. Obviously, the kid doesn't realize what this means, but if You-Know-Who's possessing him…"

Harry had dropped the Extendable Ear by that point, so he didn't hear what was said next, but he had no regrets about that whatsoever.

The memory made him sick. It all but confirmed his worst fears, that he was the weapon, the one that Voldemort didn't have last time, the one that he was trying to use. The more he thought about it, the more things started to add up. It also explained why there was always someone from the Order keeping a watch on him; it wasn't for his protection, but for other people's.

There was soft knock on the bedroom door.

"Yeah?" Harry said hoarsely.

"Harry, can I come in?" said Sirius's voice.

Harry felt the smallest sensation of warmth at the voice of his godfather. Not wanting to lose that sensation, he cleared his throat and said, "I dunno, can you?"

The door opened and Sirius entered, a smile on his face. Harry attempted to smile back, but it was as though the muscles on his face had forgotten how to do that.

"Lunch's ready," Sirius said softly.

"I'll be down in a minute," Harry responded.

Sirius sat down next to Harry on the bed.

"Harry," he said, looking directly into his godson's eyes. "How're you feeling? Be honest."

"Fine." Harry mumbled.

"Ron said you haven't talked to anyone since you came back from the hospital."

Harry broke eye contact, and didn't respond.

"Harry. Arthur is fine now. He'll be in top shape within weeks, and it's all thanks to you. You have nothing to worry about," Sirius reassured him.

"It's… not that, Sirius," Harry said shakily.

"Then what is it? Tell me what's bothering you," Sirius prodded, rubbing Harry's back. "You'll feel better once you've got it off your shoulders."

Harry took a deep breath, and explained his concerns to Sirius, who listened silently, occasionally nodding and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to further encourage him.

After Harry had shared the full story, he said, "Sirius, w-what if… what if… Voldemort is possessing me? What if he's using me to do all these terrible things?"

Sirius was quiet for a moment, but when he spoke, it was in his most reassuring voice, the kind he had used to calm down Molly Weasley after her encounter with the boggart over the summer. "Harry, you're not being possessed. What you saw in your dream were the deeds of Voldemort, and Voldemort only. Ron says you were in bed the whole time it happened; your body never went anywhere. Listen, you understand while you're at Hogwarts, Voldemort can't lay a finger on you."

When Harry didn't look entirely convinced, Sirius said, "Okay, so, you think you may be being possessed by Voldemort right? Well, tell me, can you remember everything you've been doing recently?"

"What?"

"Are there any big blank periods where you don't what you've been up to? That you can't recall?"

Harry racked his brains.

"No," he said.

"Then Voldemort's never possessed you," Sirius said simply.

"W-what?" Harry said, looking confused. "How does that-?"

"When I was an Auror, I was possessed by a Death Eater once and I couldn't remember what I'd been doing for hours at a time," Sirius explained.

"I- you were an Auror?!" Harry asked.

"Why yes, yes, I was. Have I never told you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Well, that's no good, is it? Tell you what, you freshen up and come down to lunch, and maybe I'll tell you a few stories, eh? Missions your father and I did," Sirius said. Then, seeing the look on Harry's face when he mentioned James, laughed and said, "Yeah, your dad was an Auror as well. Best in the whole department, alongside yours truly. In fact, he was the one who found out I was being possessed and snapped me out of it before it was too late. So, what do you say champ?"

Harry's heart had lightened in spite of himself, and he took a moment to realize just how hungry he was. And with the prospect of hearing stories about Sirius and James' Auror adventures over lunch, he practically leaped out of bed. Sirius beamed at him.

"One last thing," Sirius said, grasping Harry's hand in his own. "I want you to put all of this nonsense out of your mind now. You're fifteen, the only things that should be on your mind are pranks, games, girls, stuff like that. Maybe a bit of studies as well, though I can't say the same for myself when I was your age. I want you to enjoy the holidays, alright? Hang out with your friends, hang out with me, whatever you want. Just no more skulking around, okay?"

Harry nodded, but Sirius did not let go of his hand immediately.

"Uh, Sirius?"

"Hmm? Oh, right, sorry," he said quickly. "Right, c'mon now. Time for lunch!"

And he and Harry went downstairs, chatting happily, but there was something else on Sirius's mind now as well that he didn't want Harry to know.

He was going to have a talk with Dumbledore tonight.

[…]

(Meanwhile, back at Hogwarts)

Lunch was a quiet affair. Apart from me, Daphne and Astoria, there were only a handful of students staying over the holidays. A couple of third years from Hufflepuff, a fifth-year girl from Ravenclaw, and a sixth year from Gryffindor that I think was Cormac McLaggen. Since there were so few students, we all sat on the same table, albeit away from each other.

I had managed to get a few hours of Patronus practice in before lunch. I hadn't made much more progress since yesterday, but I wasn't expecting instant results either. The fact that I had been able to produce a shield for a few seconds was honestly pretty big in its own right.

After lunch, Daphne and I headed to the library. We had been given an unreasonably large amount of homework for the holidays and we'd agreed to do it together early on. Our deal was simple; I'd help her out with the subjects I was better at than her (History of Magic, Astronomy and Potions mainly) while she'd help me out with the ones, she was better at (Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures).

We started with History of Magic. Combing through nearly half a dozen dusty old books, I gathered enough material to write 16 inches on the Goblin Rebellions of 1612, while Daphne did a whole lot of nothing.

By the time I finished writing the essay, I felt like my hand was gonna explode. I passed the parchment to Daphne, who finally looked up from her magazine.

"This is ridiculously long!" she exclaimed.

"Welcome to OWL year," I said, rubbing my hand. "Besides, I'm the one who did the real work. You just have to copy it."

"Can't you make it shorter?"

"Binns said we had to write 16 inches. This is 16 inches, so no, I can't make it shorter," I said.

She merely pouted and got to work, while I picked up the magazine Daphne had been reading. Turns out it was the Quibbler, the magazine run by Luna Lovegood's father.

I'll summarize the experience for you. Reading the Quibbler was braincell genocide.

"Wow, this is garbage, you actually like this?" I asked Daphne.

"Nope," she said, popping the 'p'. "It's just good for a laugh."

"Suppose so."

After some time, she sat back and said, "Done!"

"Wow, that was fast," I said.

"Just had to copy, remember?"

"Right, anyway. Now, I think we should move on to Transfiguration-"

"D'you fancy a walk?"

"'Scuse me?" I said.

"A walk," she repeated.

"It's snowing."

"It's stopped. Plus, it'll be dark in a couple hours so why not use the time we have?"

"Daphne, are you trying to dodge your end of the deal?"

"Absolutely not," she said. "I just figured we could use a break."

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Daphne, we've only been studying for-" I looked at my watch. "-three hours… huh. Okay, then, sure. But I wanna get that Transfiguration essay done before dinner, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it."

The weather outside was cold obviously, but the snow had stopped falling for the time being and there was only a light, chilly breeze as compared to the howling gale we'd grown used to in recent weeks.

The grounds were covered in snow, but the paths were clear. They stayed that way even during snowfall, which was good when we needed to get to Care of Magical Creatures in extreme weather.

"So how come you didn't go home?" Daphne asked me as we strolled through the grounds. "You're usually rearing to get out of Hogwarts."

"Eh, Mum and Dad had to take care of some business in France."

"Couldn't you have gone with them?

"It came up at the last minute and they had to leave immediately. They were in France a day before school let out."

"So… what've you been up to?" Daphne asked. "We haven't really hung out that much recently."

"Oh, same old, same old… studies, Quidditch practice, stuff like that. You?"

"Same, minus the Quidditch practice."

"If you don't mind me asking, I've noticed you tend to vanish for hours at a time. What's up with that?"

"Stalking me much?" she said.

"Nope, if I was, then I'd know where you vanish to, and I wouldn't be asking."

"Well, sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I can't stick around with you every hour of every day," she replied. "No matter how much you might want it."

"Alright, don't flatter yourself, Daphne, I was just curious. No one else seems to know where you sneak off to, either."

"Mind your own business, Malfoy," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Come to think of it…" I said, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. "I've noticed Zabini also disappears quite a bit. Can't be a coincidence, can it?"

Daphne made an odd sort of noise halfway between an angry growl and a hiccup, and pushed me into the snow. Unfortunately, we had been walking near the edge of a slope, and I rolled all the way down, the snow getting all over me and inside my clothes.

"What the hell was that?!" I yelled as I got up at the bottom of the slope.

Daphne winced, and said, "Sorry!" as she came down.

"Jesus Christ, I was only joking!" I said. It was true, I had made up that bit about Zabini disappearing just to tease her.

"I said sorry!" she said.

Then, she did something I didn't expect, like, even more so than her pushing me down a slope; she… hugged me.

"Uh…" I was in full hover-hands mode, and suddenly conscious of the fact that Daphne was indeed a girl, based on how her chest was touching mine. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," she said. "I'm warming you."

"I'm… pretty sure there's a much more effective to do this with magic as well," I said, fully aware of the fact that I was starting to blush.

"Well… I was getting a bit cold too," she said sheepishly. Then, with a smirk, she looked up at me and said, "Besides, are you seriously gonna complain?"

Wait… was she flirting with me?!

has stopped working.

To answer her question, I wasn't gonna complain. At all.

We stood there like that for a while. Maybe it was a few minutes, maybe a few hours, or possibly several snowy days. I didn't care, it felt too good to give a damn about such mundane things. And I wasn't saying that, just because Daphne was attractive, but also because it was nice to have someone just hug you for a good long while. It was comforting.

When we finally broke apart, Daphne looked at me and said, "Dude, you are red as a tomato. Have you never had a girl hug you before?"

"Not in a while…" I said, rubbing the back of my neck. "Um… listen, do you wanna get back to the castle now? it's getting dark."

"Okay, fine."

On the way back, I said, "So… what happened back there?"

"Ugh, listen, I overreacted. It's just… I used to have a crush on Zabini. I asked him out last year but he turned me down. I'm over it now, though."

"You sure about that?" I said. "You did push me down a hill for joking around about it."

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm over him. Like I said, it was an overreaction… I guess I hadn't thought about it in a while and didn't particularly love being reminded about it."

"Sure, sure, gotcha, gotcha."

Neither of us really wanted to talk about it any further, so I changed the subject.

To be honest, I was a bit surprised. I hadn't been aware that Daphne used to like Zabini, but then again, I hadn't really ever talked to her that much prior to this year.

[…]

(That night, Grimmauld Place)

It was a quarter past midnight, and everyone but Sirius had gone to sleep. He was sitting in the living room, looking into the crackling fireplace, waiting…

He was confused, and livid because of the words he had seen on the back of Harry's hand, etched into the skin.

I must not tell lies.

After dinner, he had written a letter to Dumbledore – coded, of course, he was still a wanted man, after all – saying he wanted to talk about Harry. Dumbledore had responded with the time, twelve-twenty, and location, the fireplace in the living room. Sirius imagined that the Headmaster's fireplace was secure, otherwise Dumbledore wouldn't have suggested it seeing as how Sirius was still a wanted man.

At precisely twelve-twenty, Dumbledore's face appeared in the fire at last.

"Sirius," he said calmly. "You wished to talk about Harry?"

"That's right," Sirius said, leaning forward.

"How is he feeling?"

"Better now. I told him he wasn't being possessed by Voldemort or anything like that. It helped."

"That's good, because from what I have been able to piece together, this much is true; he isn't being possessed. However, there is something else."

"Like what?"

"The connection he and Voldemort share may run deeper than we anticipated," Dumbledore said. "The dream Harry had, demonstrates this. Further backing this up is the dream he had last year, about the murder of Frank Bryce, if you'll recall."

Sirius rubbed his temple. "So, the scar hurting whenever Voldemort was feeling a particularly strong emotion… that was just one of the effects of this connection?"

"It would seem so. More than likely, this connection works both ways, so naturally, there's the rather worrying prospect that Voldemort may use this connection against Harry."

Sirius felt an odd sensation in his stomach. "Dear God…" he muttered.

"However," Dumbledore continued. "The situation is not yet so dire. It seems Voldemort is not aware of this connection yet – otherwise Harry likely would never have seen that dream – meaning we have time to act."

"What are you suggesting?"

"Occlumency."

"Occlumency?" Sirius repeated. "How on earth are you gonna teach him occlumency?"

"Severus is an excellent Occlumens-"

"No," Sirius said firmly. "Not him. Pick someone else."

"Sirius-"

"Albus, you know what he's like. How he treats Harry. I'm not gonna let him use this as an excuse to make Harry any more miserable," Sirius said. "Why don't you just teach Harry yourself? Surely this is important enough?"

"I believe you already know the answer to that question," Dumbledore said patiently. "Severus is a far better Occlumens than I. in fact, he's one of the few people capable of lying directly to the Dark Lord's face without him knowing. I understand your distrust of Severus, but do not be so quick to forget his contributions – and the great personal risk he took – when he turned spy for us in the first war."

Sirius merely scoffed.

"If it comforts you," Dumbledore said. "I'll personally keep an eye on Severus, and make sure he doesn't abuse his power. Is that acceptable to you?"

Sirius crossed his arms. He knew there was no point arguing with Dumbledore on the matter. So instead, he said, "Two eyes."

"As often as I can spare them, dear boy."

But Sirius wasn't going to blindly place his faith in Dumbledore in this matter. He had, after all, let Snape bully Harry for years right under his nose. He was going his godson a mode of communication, this one quicker and directly to him.

It was time to dig up his and James's old mirrors again.

"If that is all, then I must be going, Sirius," Dumbledore said.

"Hold on a second," Sirius said. "There's one more thing I want to talk to you about. In fact, it's the main reason I wanted to talk to you."

"And what would that be?"

"Earlier today, I noticed some kind of markings on the back Harry's hand," Sirius said. "Words, etched into his skin."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Words?"

"I must not tell lies," Sirius said, his voice shaking slightly with anger.

Dumbledore was silent, apparently taken aback.

"I think we can both guess who the culprit is," Sirius said.

Dumbledore nodded.

"Did you know she was doing this?" Sirius asked quietly.

"I did not," Dumbledore replied.

If it weren't for the fact that the house was full of people sleeping, Sirius would likely have yelled his next words at Dumbledore.

"How?!" he hissed instead. "How do you not know your students are being tortured, right under your very nose!"

Dumbledore was silent for a few moments, before saying, "Did Harry tell you this himself?"

"No, I noticed it myself," Sirius said.

"If he himself did not reach out to you, or me or any of the faculty, then perhaps it is because he does not want to tell anyone," Dumbledore assessed. "Furthermore, if none of the other students have complained about such a thing to the staff or to each other… then perhaps Harry is the only one this is being done to."

"He's being singled out… but why wouldn't he tell anyone else though?" Sirius asked.

"I was hoping you would tell me that, since you have a much greater understanding of teenage behavior than I do. Alternatively, you could also ask Harry?"

"No," Sirius said. "I don't want to worry him about any of this, not till after the holidays at least."

"Then what is your assessment?"

"Maybe… he doesn't want to be in the spotlight anymore than he already is?" Sirius suggested. "A thing like this would cause a huge scandal, and the last thing Harry needs or wants is the Daily Prophet writing another article about him. Especially since they'd find a way to make him the villain of the situation. That seems the most logical reason to me."

Dumbledore was pensive for a while.

"Albus, that woman needs to go. Immediately," Sirius said.

"I will conduct an investigation immediately," he said. "Rest assured I will give this matter my top priority. But we have to be careful. We must consider what Fudge's reaction will be if Umbridge is removed."

Sirius nodded curtly. "Understood. And try to keep Harry out of this for the meanwhile."

"Noted," Dumbledore said, before saying in a softer voice. "Sirius, I truly am sorry for this. I will do my best to rectify the matter, I promise you."

And with that, Dumbledore's face vanished from the fire, leaving Sirius alone to his thoughts.