A/N: And so it begins.

All (and I mean all) shall be answered soon.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy.


Chapter Twenty-Two: Decisions

Sometimes Harry found it difficult to believe that only in October Slytherin house had itself devolved into chaos at the sheer notion of an outsider being permitted to enter their common room. And yet now, at the end of April, Neville Longbottom sat in the Slytherin common room with ease, or with as much ease as he was capable of.

Harry prodded at his rook, who was busy arguing with Neville's knight, and alternately with Harry himself. "Go on. Go where I told you."

"You've no idea how to place this game properly!" his rook huffed, storming to the square in question. To Neville, he added, "Bring back the red-haired boy. He knows what he's doing."

"Sorry. Ron's busy," Neville said. "Maybe tomorrow."

The rook grumbled under its breath as Neville studied the board and considered his next move. He jumped slightly at an outburst of squealing near the fire, where Daphne and Tracey had successfully tied a satin ribbon in a bow around Mrs. Norris's neck. Both girls cooed as the cat glared at them, extremely still. In one fluid motion, she reached up, slipped her paw under the loose knot, and yanked the monstrosity off before storming to the common room door and yowling to be let out.

"D'you think Professor Snape would let us put in a cat door?" Tracey asked, pushing herself up and heading over to the expanse of stone wall.

"Not in a million years," Harry called over. "Besides, wouldn't a cat door in the wall give away our location?"

"Not exactly a secret these days, is it?" Alice Robertson asked, nodding at Neville as she passed. Joining her was Alicia Spinnet, also visiting from Gryffindor. Both girls were equally avid fans of Gideon Crumb, the bagpipe-player for the Weird Sisters. While it wasn't a common occurrence, the occasional non-first-year Gryffindor or Slytherin could be seen in their respective counter-house's common room. Alicia hesitated as Terence Higgs passed; the two Quidditch players stopped and looked at one another.

"That last-second goal you made at the match against Hufflepuff," Terence finally said. "When you dodged two Bludgers at once- that was excellent."

Alicia blinked, considering her words before admitting, "So were you, in the match against Ravenclaw. That dive you did, was that a Wronski Feint?"

"An attempt at one, at least," Terence said, shrugging. "Muddled it up a bit and nearly flew into the stands."

"Yeah, but you still caught the Snitch," Alicia pointed out.

The two stared at each other for another moment, then nodded at one another and continued on their way.

Harry turned back to Neville, who'd finally made his move, and debated sacrificing his bishop for a chance at Neville's queen.

"It's nice," Neville said, almost to himself, "That everyone's finally getting along, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, deciding not to mention the glowers each new guest to the Slytherin common room received from Marcus Flint and those who thought like him, along with the similar glares new guests to the Gryffindor common room received from the Weasley twins and their friends. But even so, lingering tensions did seem to be easing just the slightest bit. Just the other day outside the Great Hall Oliver Wood had admitted to Miles Bletchley that he was a good Keeper, with an expression that suggested making such an admittance had plunged him into physical agony.

Harry didn't much care what the older years did or thought, but he didn't at all mind their presence in the common room. As much fun as Slytherin could be when it was its own private clubhouse, the whispers in the corridors about Harry being the next Dark Lord were at last truly subsiding. Besides that, there were still more nights than not when Slytherin didn't have any visitors and were left to their own devices, just like before.

Not that there weren't occasional flare-ups. Draco had been in a foul mood ever since his father hadn't come to visit the common room as promised, and a lost game of Scrabble against Hermione Granger resulted in the select usage of the word Mudblood. Within moments, Draco and Ron both had their wands pointed at one another as Hermione, who'd never heard the term before, asked what on earth was going on. Ellen Greybourne defused the situation instantly by sending Draco to bed and threatening to summon Professor Snape if he even thought about questioning her abilities as a prefect. Hermione shrugged the whole thing off, though she didn't visit as much as she once had following the incident. Meanwhile, while Ron didn't return to the Slytherin common room for more than a week, he eventually made his way back for a round of wizard chess against Harry, who he proceeded to trounce.

There were moments of tension, certainly, but so were there between the various Slytherins. There always had been. Harry thought of how much he and Draco loathed each other when the term began, and how they'd become something akin to begrudging friends, almost. He figured if he and Draco could manage it, so could the Gryffindors and Slytherins. Even Ron, who'd shuddered at the thought of being sorted into Slytherin on the Hogwarts Express.

Not that he'd seen much of Ron lately, nor Hermione. When Harry had stopped by Gryffindor Tower the week before to return the collection of Famous Witches and Wizards cards Ron had left in the Great Hall, neither he nor Hermione were there. Harry didn't think much about it at the time, but the absences added up.

"Ron and Hermione aren't still upset about what Draco said, are they?" Harry asked Neville as they played chess, making his move. "He's a tit, anyway, and he's jealous of Hermione's marks. He wouldn't have half the nerve to say that word if Professor Snape could hear."

"No, they're not upset." Neville didn't look up, he voice catching slightly on his words. He studied the bishop Harry had intentionally put in harm's way and scanned the board for any repercussions he might face for capturing it. "Hermione's studying for the end-of-term exams."

"Already?" Harry asked. "They're not until June."

"You know how Hermione is," Neville said with an awkward shrug. "Besides, now that Professor Quirrell isn't sick anymore, he's been assigning loads more work."

"Yeah, but Ron too?" Harry shook his head. "I haven't seen him in the evening for more than a week, and he doesn't study half as much as Hermione."

Neville didn't respond, instead sending forth his queen to capture Harry's bishop, who Harry promptly captured with his rook, the latter of whom immediately ceased grumbling and instead relished his moment to shine.

"It's okay if they're still upset with Draco," Harry said. "Just... I hope they don't let him sour them on Slytherin completely, you know?"

"It's really nothing," Neville said, motioning for his own rook to move forth and capture Harry's queen, who he'd left undefended in the aftermath of his previous capture. "Just exams."

Harry swore under his breath, not having noticed his mistake until now, and let the subject drop so he could focus more closely on the game.


It was always a pleasure to fly across the Hogwarts grounds on Terence's Comet 260, but that Saturday was even better thanks to the beautiful spring weather. Harry did laps around the lake, only landing occasionally to catch his breath and for Terence to teach him techniques that would serve him well on the Quidditch pitch.

"You're not really stepping down next year, are you?" Harry asked as they took a break from trying for a perfect Sloth Grip Roll and instead drank bottles of pumpkin juice on the shore of the lake.

"I have to," Terence said. "You've no idea how nastily exhausting the N.E.W.T.s are- it's right there in the name. I need to score well on as many as possible if I want to make a name for myself at the Ministry. Quidditch has been fun, but..."

"Can't you make a name for yourself with only a regular number of N.E.W.T.s?" Harry asked. "Either way, you already have top marks. You'll probably do better than everyone without even trying."

Terence just shook his head. Harry didn't understand why it was so important to him that he score better than anyone else on his N.E.W.T.s, nor his obsession with becoming Head Boy, but he suspected it had something to do with proving something to the parents he no longer spoke with. Them, and the somewhat traditional parents of Ellen Greybourne, who still didn't know he was quietly dating their daughter.

"I'll give Marcus Flint one thing," Terence said, wiping his upper lip with the back of his hand. "He's not a bad team captain. He'll teach you a few things when you take my place next year."

Harry nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "You're mad if you think I'm going to be on the team next year."

"And you're mad if you think you aren't. You're a damn good flier, Potter," Terence told him simply, without a hint of adulation in his voice. "Why else do you think I'd allow a first-year borrow my broom as much as I do you?"

"Because Professor Snape told you at the start of the year to keep an eye on me."

"That doesn't mean I have to let you borrow my broom."

Harry couldn't help but imagine, as he frequently did, what it would be like to streak across the Quidditch pitch in emerald-green robes as the crowd below chanted his name. He snapped himself out of the fantasy and admitted, "I was planning on trying out."

"I'd be surprised if you weren't."

Harry grinned and shook his head. "But I don't even have a broom of my own. And I'd only be a second-year."

"Katie Bell's a second year, and she's on the Gryffindor team," Terence pointed out. "Cho Chang's a second year too, and she's a Ravenclaw reserve player. Besides, Seekers need to be small. I've already grown too much. I'm not nearly as quick in the air as I was before my growth spurt."

Harry, who would have done just about anything to have a growth spurt of his own, nodded slowly, pushing aside thoughts of whether or not he'd always be short and instead thinking about how this might aid him on the Quidditch pitch. He opened his mouth to point out that Terence hadn't acknowledged his lack of a broom, but the latter beat him to the punch.

"And come to think of it, if I'm not flying, I won't be using this old thing nearly as much," Terence said, patting the Comet 260 on the ground between them. "Perhaps I'll rent it out to you, if you make a good enough offer."

Harry's grin widened, and he ran a hand across the broom, imagining himself catching the Snitch on the same broom that had brought Slytherin to victory so many times before. Before long he was up in the air once again, doing more laps around the lake as Terence timed him with a stopwatch. As flew downward to hear how he did, he caught sight of Hagrid's hut in the distance. It had been some time since he'd gone to visit Hagrid, who, upon recently getting over one nasty cold had promptly come down with a second, and wasn't taking visitors until he was certain he wasn't contagious. Both the windows and the door of the hut were shut, which Harry thought was odd, given the beautiful weather, but he didn't linger on it, especially not when he landed and Terence told him he'd broken his previous record.


Draco scurried down the corridor as quickly and quietly as he could. They'd been at their Sunday game of hide and seek for nearly an hour. He wasn't sure who'd been already found, but wasn't about to let himself be next. He slipped into an unused storeroom not far from Snape's office and left the door open just a crack, the same as he'd found it. Tracey Davis was seeking, and she was uncanny when it came to remembering details about corridors she'd already been down.

The storeroom was tiny, but the fact that it was empty gave Draco enough room to sit comfortably. He wished there was at least a tarp or something to cover him if someone threw the door open, but he wasn't planning on staying long, just long enough to catch his breath before finding the perfect hiding spot.

Draco rested the back of his head against the stone wall behind him. Maybe he'd double back to the unused classroom deep in the dungeons, the one not far from the passageway that led to the basement where the kitchens were. He knew Tracey had been there already and would double back to it eventually, but perhaps not before she found the rest of the hiders. He reached inside his pocket and pulled out one of the Chocolate Frogs that had been in the care package his mother sent that morning. He chewed slowly, not really tasting it, and after a moment he pulled out the letter the letter his mother had enclosed within the package.

It was the same as all the others, long missives gushing over her only son and how much she missed him. Draco treasured these letters; he'd grown accustomed to his mum's doting, and it had been a nasty shock to come to Hogwarts and find no one was going to coddle him. There were usually a few lines from his father as well, friendly ones encouraging him to do well at school and make his family proud. His father rarely said much in these letters, but he said even less since the meeting of the Board of Governors the month before. The first letter didn't even mention that he hadn't come by the common room after promising he would. Draco had to mention it in his next letter home, to which his father replied:

Dearest Draco,

I'm terribly sorry I forgot to drop by. I've been incredibly busy. Perhaps next time. Your mother misses you, as do I.

Love,

Father

The note at the end of the letter Draco held now was nearly as short, reading simply:

Dearest Draco,

I hope you enjoy the sweets your mother's sending. We look forward to seeing you at the end of June. Perhaps before then.

I am very proud of you. Always remember the values your mother and I have taught you. They will prove more important than you know, sooner than you know.

Love,

Father

Draco read the words, then read them again. On the surface, they weren't especially unusual. He wasn't quite sure what he meant when he said he might see Draco before June, unless he meant he meant to rectify his previous mistake.

It was the second line that gave him the most pause. Draco's father rarely told him he was proud of him, and Draco valued it immensely when he did. The last time he'd said it had been over Christmas, much of which Draco had spent sulking yet not quite able to admit to his father that he knew he'd ratted him and the rest of the first-years out to Snape. His father, aware that something was awry and attributing it to a difficult readjustment from school to home, had taken him for a walk around the manor grounds, telling him stories of his own days at Hogwarts.

"Of course, these were the old days," he said as they strolled through one of the many gardens Draco had once hidden in as a much smaller child. "You couldn't get away with the things we did now, not with everyone gone soft. You'd wind up in Azkaban for simple boyish pranks."

Draco couldn't help but think hexing the toenails off a Ravenclaw was a bit more than a boyish prank, and hated himself for thinking it to begin with. His father droned on, concluding with his pleasure that Draco would carry on the correct sort of values, and telling him he was proud of him.

Draco swelled a bit with pride then, as he had when he read the letter earlier that morning. But it was overwhelmingly accompanied by an even greater emotion, an uncomfortable one Draco couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew it wasn't positive, and no matter how much he tried to push it away, he couldn't.

He thought of Hermione Granger, and how he'd called her a Mudblood after their game of Scrabble. As much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he regretted it, and had even considered telling the insufferable Gryffindor he was sorry. Would his father still be proud of him if he could look inside his head and see that?

The door flew open and Draco jumped, stuffing the letter back in his pocket. To his relief, it was only Millicent, who squeezed herself next to him.

"Find another spot," he hissed at her. "It's too crowded for two of us."

"It won't be crowded if you move over," she hissed back at him, encouraging him with a none-too-gentle shove that sent him flying over.

Draco shoved her back, but she was stronger than him and didn't budge an inch.

"By the way," Millicent said, getting comfortable. "Did you hear Weasley's in the hospital wing?"

"What for?" Draco perked up slightly. "An inflated ego?"

"That would more likely be you," she shot back without missing a beat. "Parvati Patil said his hand turned green and swollen overnight. He told everyone it was a dog bite, but what sort of dog bite does that?" She shook her head. "Besides, who at Hogwarts even has a dog? Besides Hagrid, but Fang wouldn't hurt a fly."

Draco paused, a horrible idea occurring to him. "You don't think..."

"The three-headed one?" Millicent was already one step ahead of him. "If Blaise was telling the truth about how big that thing is, it would have taken his hand off."

Draco nodded slowly and had just opened his mouth when Millicent suddenly clapped her hand over it.

"Mrfph!" Draco protested, or something similar to it, but Millicent shook her head, gesturing toward the corridor just visible through the cracked door. There were two sets of footsteps headed their way, and Draco fell silent as Millicent lowered her hand. The two didn't budge an inch, expecting Tracey to pop in at any second, but instead the voice they heard belonged to Hermione Granger.

"What do we tell him? We have to tell him the truth, don't we?" Granger was babbling so quickly Draco could barely separate one word from the next. "He's going to hate us! Neville, we shouldn't have done it. We shouldn't have-"

"I know." Longbottom's voice was just as panicky and shrill as Granger's, but he spoke slower, still managing to stumble over his words as he did so. "We have to tell him the truth. It's the only thing we can do. But-"

"He's going to hate us!"

"I know!" came Longbottom's frantic reply. "We never should have used the cloak! He gave it to me to hide, not to use!"

Draco and Millicent both glanced at one another but stayed silent, pressing their ears against the ajar crack as the two voices grew fainter.

"I think we should tell Professor McGonagall about-" Granger started, but Longbottom cut her off.

"We can't!"

"But if someone is-"

"I know! But if we tell her about that," Longbottom said, and Draco had to strain to make out the rest of the sentence, "Then we'll have to tell her that Harry-"

They were out of earshot by then, their voices dropping into an indistinguishable murmur before vanishing completely. Millicent and Draco stared at one another.

"What was that?" Draco finally asked. "Why would they have a meltdown over using a cloak?"

"And what does any of it have to do with Harry?" Millicent added, her brow furrowing.


Harry scurried around a corner, ducking low at the sound of footsteps in the distance. He'd just managed to lose Tracey, but he knew she wasn't far. He was close to the common room, which was dangerous when it came to hide and seek, as the seeker always came back to the main hub eventually, but Harry didn't plan on sticking around long.

He darted in the direction of the cubbyhole behind the tapestry of Chiron the Centaur, approaching another corner and gasping in surprise as a sharp pain shot through his scar. It subsided quickly, but the dull ache remained, and as he rounded the corner he found himself nearly slamming into Neville and Hermione, both of whom yelped in surprise.

"Harry," Neville said, his voice low and face pale. "We need to talk to you."

Harry hesitated, hand pressed to his forehead. "Is it important? Because we're playing hide and seek, and-"

"It's important," Hermione cut in, and burst into tears. "Harry, we're so sorry-"

"It was an accident-" Neville said, his face going even paler.

"What happened?" Harry asked, glancing back and forth between the two.

"We lost your Invisibility Cloak," Neville whispered, so distraught that he too welled up with tears. "We're so, so sorry."

For a moment, Harry wondered if he might be dreaming. Just the night before he'd dreamed that everyone at Hogwarts had transformed into the Dursleys, a prospect that was only slightly more horrifying than the one before him now.

"How?" he managed to sputter out. "What happened?"

"Hagrid has a dragon," Hermione explained, her voice shaking through her tears.

"A dragon?"

"He hatched him from an egg inside his hut," she explained, then paused, motioning for them to follow her. They made their way to the empty Potions classroom and scurried inside. Hermione immediately continued with, "His name is Norbert, and Hagrid wanted to keep him hidden, but he's getting too big, too fast. Charlie's cousin, he works with dragons."

"In Romania," Harry recalled, sinking onto a stool. "Ron told me on the Hogwarts Express. And Hagrid told me he's always wanted a dragon."

"They're illegal," Neville said quietly. He wasn't crying the way Hermione was, but the tears that rolled down his cheek wouldn't dissipate even as he swiped furiously at them. "We were sneaking it to the Astronomy Tower last night so Charlie could take him to Romania and Hagrid wouldn't be in trouble."

Harry sat quietly for a moment. Mixed in with his abject horror at losing his cloak was something else, something he couldn't help but say aloud. "Hagrid's my friend too. Why did he tell you and not me?"

Neville and Hermione looked at one another. In a timid voice, Hermione explained, "He wanted to. But he said you and the other Slytherins got yourselves into terrible trouble with Professor Snape just before Christmas, and that he'd promised an even more terrible punishment if anything like it happened again."

The cane, Harry thought. Hagrid hadn't told the Slytherins about the dragon because he'd been trying to protect them from Snape's threat.

"What happened to the cloak?" Harry asked, his mouth having gone very dry. "You weren't caught, were you?"

Neville shook his head, sinking onto a stool as well and burying his head in his hands. "We never even made it to Hagrid's hut. Norbert's still there now. We haven't heard from Charlie yet, but he must have left when we didn't show up."

"It's not Neville's fault," Hermione said quickly, sniffling as she desperately rummaged through her bag for a handkerchief but finding none. She placed the bag on the desk and lowered her head. "He didn't want anything to do with it from the very beginning. He only came along because Ron was in the hospital wing, and because I wouldn't be able to carry the crate by myself."

"It was my fault. It was my idea to use the cloak," Neville admitted, unable to make eye contact with Harry. "Ron and Hermione were going to go on their own. They didn't know about the cloak at all, not until I told Hermione. I was too scared to help without it. None of this would have happened if it weren't for me."

Harry closed his eyes, trying to hold back the anger rising in his stomach. When he opened them, he said, "That was my father's cloak. Not yours."

"I know," Neville said, his voice hitching. "I know- I'm sorry, Harry-"

"What happened to it?" Harry asked.

"We made it outside," Hermione said, staring at her feet. "We were halfway across the lawn when we ran into someone coming from the direction of the forest. I think it was a man, but-"

"It was hard to tell," Neville explained. "He looked like a ghost, almost, but not as visible. But he wasn't invisible. He was-"

"His body looked like whatever was behind him," Hermione explained. "And he was solid. "We ran right into him. I could barely make him out, but..."

"He was carrying something in a bottle and a bit sloshed out when we bumped into one another, onto his robes," Neville said. "Something silvery. That was when we saw his outline. It was so dark I don't think we would have otherwise."

"I just don't know what it was," Hermione said, shaking her head. "I've never read about ghosts that are solid, but-"

"Disillusionment Charm," Harry murmured, thinking of the sixth-year level charm Terence had performed on him the day of Snape's inspection. "Makes you invisible, but not really."

Neville and Hermione stared at him, then slumped even further.

"He had a wand," Neville said dejectedly. "And when he waved it, the cloak came right off us. He held it for a moment, then he put it on himself. Then he was gone."

Harry slumped as well, torn between anger and sorrow at losing his father's cloak before he'd even had a chance to really use it. Another thought creeped into his mind, one even stronger than those two emotions, and he thought of night he'd gone dueling, and of the man at the foot of the stairs.

"What did he look like?" Harry asked, his voice low.

"It was impossible to tell," Hermione said just as quietly, still unable to make eye contact with him. "The only thing I could make out was his long hair."


Draco and Millicent bolted down the corridor away from the unused storeroom. They'd just heard Tracey's voice around the corner as she'd discovered Pansy hiding in a secluded nook, and both knew she'd reach the storeroom any moment.

"Split up?" he whispered as they reached a fork in the dungeons. Millicent nodded, and they both went in separate directions. Draco rushed through the corridors, slipping inside the Potions classroom for a moment to reconsider his options. There were plenty of places to hide in the classroom, but Snape would blow his lid at the thought of anyone even coexisting unsupervised with the dangerous ingredients contained within. Draco didn't want Tracey to find him, but neither did he want to spend his Sunday afternoon being walloped by Snape. Perhaps he'd try the hidden back passageway between the dorms and the rest of the dungeons. Hiding in the dorms was considered cheating, but Draco reasoned the passageway counted as fair game.

Draco turned back toward the door, but paused at the sight of a small bag left on one of the desks. He approached it and sifted through its contents, finding a library book checked out to a Hermione Granger. Draco stared at the bag, considering hiding it in one of the castle's many hidden nooks. He didn't, though, instead leaving it there as he started back toward the door. Once the game of hide and seek was over he decided he'd stop by Gryffindor Tower and return it to Granger.

Maybe he'd say he was sorry for calling her a Mudblood.

Maybe.

Draco stepped back into the corridor. He'd barely made it two steps when the invisible hand closed around his arm.


Harry swallowed, standing outside Professor Snape's study and contemplating whether or not he was doing the right thing.

Maybe the man who stole his cloak was no one. No one important, at least. Maybe he was different from the man who'd attacked him on the stairs. Maybe Professor Snape and Dumbledore knew all about him. Maybe-

Maybe he was the same man who'd been lurking around in the night earlier that year, only now with an Invisibility Cloak.

Harry rested his head against the door, very much not wanting to knock. If he told Professor Snape the truth, he'd have to tell him everything. That he'd hidden the existence of the cloak from him. That he'd given a powerful magical item to another student for safekeeping. That Neville and Hermione had used it to attempt to smuggle an illegal dragon of Hagrid's to the Astronomy Tower, one that was still on the castle grounds, and that Ron was involved. That none of this would have happened if he hadn't kept the cloak a secret in the first place.

Harry wanted nothing more to pretend that nothing had happened and to call the cloak a loss. But he just couldn't forget that night on the stairs, and Professor Snape's insistence afterward that he come to him if he ever felt his life was in danger.

But how did he know his life was in danger? Maybe the Disillusioned man on the grounds didn't have anything to do with anything.

But then why was he there?

He'd been told after the incident with the cloaked figure that the castle was thoroughly investigated and no one was found. That it was impossible for anyone else to sneak in. Even if the man who'd stolen the cloak had good motives, what if there was a way to sneak onto the grounds that Snape and Dumbledore didn't know about?

Maybe it hadn't been someone sneaking onto the grounds, Harry desperately tried to reason with himself. Maybe it had been a teacher- maybe it had been Snape. Snape had long hair, if you counted shoulder-length long. But no, Professor Snape would have hauled the lot of them back to Professor McGonagall, and he wouldn't have been quiet about it. Who else had long hair? Professor Dumbledore? No, Neville and Hermione would have seen his beard. Hagrid? No, the cloak would never fit over him, and he had an even bushier beard than Professor Dumbledore.

Harry swore under his breath. The Dursleys' refrain of Don't ask questions kept running through his mind, and he was tempted to take their advice for once, if only Professor Snape's reminders to Use your head weren't louder.

Harry closed his eyes, head still resting against the door. He didn't want to do this. Maybe he wouldn't do it.

Gathering up every last bit of courage he had, he steeled himself and rapped his fist against the door.


Ellen Greybourne pulled away from Terence Higgs, inhaling deeply and smiling. Terence grinned back at her, that same goofy little grin he always had right after they snogged.

"Ready to go back?" he mouthed, nodding toward the corridor.

"Never," she mouthed back, just as silently. "Let's go."

Terence stuck his head out to see if anyone was coming, then the two slipped out from the hidden cubbyhole behind the tapestry of Chiron the Centaur. The first-years had abandoned the space upon discovering its connection to Professor Snape's office, and no one else in their right mind used it if they didn't want their conversations to make their way back to the housemaster. Of course, Terence and Ellen weren't having very many conversations there.

"I was thinking," Ellen said, reaching up to adjust Terence's collar as they made their way toward the common room.

"What about?" Terence asked.

"Telling people. About us. We should start." Ellen paused, waiting to see Terence's reaction and relaxing when he smiled.

"I've only waited because you wanted to wait to tell your parents."

"Sod my parents," Ellen said with more confidence than she felt, but the conviction was real. Sod them, she thought. Terence was smart, and funny, and caring, and great at Quidditch, and a Head Prefect on track to be Head Boy if Dumbledore ever bothered to pick a Slytherin for the role. He was everything a parent should want for their daughter. The only reason they didn't like him was because he'd vocally denounced his parents and moved out when he was fourteen. The whole thing was incredibly stupid; Ellen's parents hadn't even been Death Eaters and neither had his, instead claiming that You-Know-Who had made quite a few good points that shouldn't be thrown out with the bathwater.

"Sod them," she said again, throwing caution to the winds and kissing his cheek in the open corridor.

Terence grinned at her again, but before he could say a word, Ellen suddenly took a step forward. "Did you see that?"

"See what?"

Ellen stared down the corridor, in the direction of the secret passageway that led to the dorms. "I could have sworn I saw a foot."

"A foot?"

Ellen nodded, feeling incredibly foolish yet knowing she'd seen it. "Out of nowhere. It just appeared, then it was gone. I must sound mad, don't I?"

Terence didn't respond, but he shook his head, a frown slowly spreading across his face.


Harry paced up and down the length of his empty dorm. Snape hadn't been in his study. He hadn't been in the common room either.

What was he supposed to do now?

Maybe it was a sign, the part of him that desperately wanted to save his own backside suggested loudly. After all, if the man coming from the forest had been someone truly sinister, he would have attacked Hermione and Neville, wouldn't he?

And yet there'd been seven other Slytherins alongside Harry when he'd been attacked on the stairs, and the cloaked figure had only gone after him.

But it happened so quickly, the backside-saving part of his brain reminded him. Who knew what had really happened that night?

Harry grunted, running his fingers through his already-tousled hair. No more of this. He'd already sought out Professor Snape, and he'd seek him out again, if he only knew where he was. He'd rather not face down a potential walloping, but one of those wasn't as bad as being killed. Probably.

He'd just started for the door when he heard the sound outside. Harry froze, then dropped low to the ground and peeked through the crack in the door. The corridor was empty, but footsteps were approaching.

The cloak.

Harry pulled his wand from his pocket, but his hands shook at the thought of potentially facing down the same intruder who'd tried to kill him months ago. What hope did he have against a fully grown wizard? His own parents had died from a single curse each. Harry very much doubted his own limited ability to unlock a door, or levitate light objects, or turn matches into needles would help him much facing down an actual, invisible foe.

The footsteps were growing closer, but there wasn't something quite right about them. Gripping his wand tightly, Harry dove under Theo's bed, wondering if he might be able to hit the unseen intruder with a tickling charm and escape in the ensuing spasms of laughter.

Maybe the invisible person was going to a different dorm. Maybe-

The door flew open. Harry stayed very still as not one, but two sets of footsteps entered the room. The door closed, and Harry, pressing the side of his face close to the floor, watched as the cloak was removed and two sets of legs became visible, one set considerably smaller than the next.

"Draco," came a low, shaky voice. "My dear Draco."

Harry breathed as quietly as he possibly could. The larger set of legs sat on Harry's bed, the bedsprings creaking beneath him. The smaller set of legs moved toward them as though their upper half were being pulled into some sort of embrace. For a long moment they stayed that way, then the smaller figure was released and stepped backward.

"What are you doing here?" Draco's voice asked.

"I promised you I'd visit, didn't I?" The voice Harry knew must belong to Lucius Malfoy chuckled, a pained sort of chuckle. "I'm sorry I didn't last time. I discovered something- something wonderful that day, Draco."

"You don't look as though it's something wonderful." Draco's voice was hesitant.

"It is. It truly is, Draco. You must know that, and you must behave that way once it comes to pass." Lucius's voice grew insistent here, and Harry watched as he stood up from the bed. "It's everything we dreamed of. Everything we've sacrificed for."

"I don't understand."

"You will." Lucius's voice was an attempt at being soothing, but was too mixed with the undecipherable frenzy of emotions he seemed to currently be feeling to be truly effective. "He's here, Draco."

"He? Who's he?"

"Him," Lucius said, and Harry felt his insides turn to ice. Draco went very quiet as well, his questions suddenly silenced. After a moment, Lucius went on. "He's not fully himself, not yet, but he will be, Draco, very soon."

"He's here?" Draco asked, his voice low. "The Dark Lord? Here?"

"Yes," Lucius replied, his voice just as low. "But he's weak. Very weak. He doesn't have a body yet, but he will. There's a way to make him strong again. He found me, Draco, just when I was looking for him. He's enlisted me to help bring him back, and I must obey."

"You don't look as though you want to obey," came Draco's very quiet response, so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear it. "You don't look happy."

A silence, then the unmistakable sound of a hand striking flesh echoed through the room. Lucius's voice turned sharp as he said, "You must never say that. Never."

Harry watched Lucius as stepped toward Draco, his tone softening and presumably embracing him once more. "Draco, things are going to change for you. You're going to live in the world you were always meant to. But you must know that things will be different. You will to need to think before you speak, whether you believe you're right or not."

A pause. Lucius stepped back. "Your mother and I both know you are incredibly strong. We're so proud of you already, Draco. I'm proud of you."

More silence. Then- "What do you need me to do, Father?"

"Something that will make you one of the most important people in our history. A hero." Lucius's voice was still quivering but slightly more confident than it had been a moment before. "I need you to tell me where Harry Potter is right now."

Harry didn't move a muscle. His lips were incredibly dry, but he didn't dare wet them.

"I don't know." Draco hesitated. "We were playing hide and seek. I'm not sure if Tracey found him yet. But he's somewhere in the dungeons."

A pause. Then, "Tell me, Draco, does Potter trust you?"

"I-" Draco went silent, then said, "I don't know. I think so. Yes, I think he does."

"I need you to do something for me." Lucius's voice grew insistent. "Bring Potter to forbidden corridor on the third floor within the hour. Wait outside the door for me. Make whatever excuse you need to. I came to the dungeons to find him, but the Dark Lord needs me now, urgently. By the time you bring him to us we'll have succeeded in our mission. The first thing the Dark Lord will want to do when he's restored is meet Harry Potter."

"What is he going to do to him?"

"That's not our concern." Lucius paused, then said, "I'm certain he just wants to speak with him, Draco. Don't fear. Your friend will be safe." When Draco didn't reply, he said, "Promise me, Draco. Do this, and everything you've ever imagined will become true."

A long silence. Then Draco said, "I promise. I'll do it."

"You're a good boy. A good man." A rustling sound, and what Harry could make out of Lucius Malfoy vanished behind the Invisibility Cloak. "One hour."

And with that, he was gone, the door opening and closing once more.

Harry didn't move. His heart was beating so rapidly he wasn't sure how Draco couldn't hear it from across the room.


Terence Higgs knocked at the door of Professor Snape's study, thoughts of a disembodied foot and Potter's Invisibility Cloak swirling through his mind. He wasn't going to say anything, though it was killing him not to, given his position as Head Prefect. He took the role seriously, especially after all he'd been through with Professor Snape in his earlier years.

No, Terence was only returning the housemaster's copy of 203 Influential Muggles in the Industrial Era, a read that had proven both dry in places yet impossible to put down. He'd return that, and perhaps awkwardly ask for a bit of advice on how to go about publicly dating someone whose parents couldn't stand you. It was bound to be an excruciating conversation, but Terence had no clue who else to go to for it.

No one answered. Terence raised his fist to knock again, then lowered it. Perhaps Professor Snape had gone to Hogsmeade. He was doing that a lot lately on the weekends.

He'd try again later.


Draco sat on his bed, his mind racing faster than he could keep up, a hand pressed against his still-smarting cheek where his father had slapped him. He'd never done that before. Slowly, he pushed himself off the bed, onto the plush rug next to it, and wrapped his arms around his legs.

He stared in the direction of Theo's bed, so lost in thought that it didn't occur to him that there was something visible between the crack of blanket and stone floor until he'd been looking at it for a good several seconds. The green eyes staring back at him were just as frozen as his own.

Draco stood up, and Harry launched himself out from under the bed, wand drawn. Draco's arm lifted of its own accord, and before he knew it the two boys both had their wands pointed against at another.

They stared at each other once more, neither saying a word. Draco opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he lowered his wand.

"Come on," he said, not knowing what the words would be until they left his mouth. "We need to get you to Professor Snape. He'll protect you."