A/N: As promised, here's the next chapter. I'll be updating every Thursday and every Sunday from now on, so you'll get two chapters every week. :)

Chapter Six

Harry found Malfoy in his Potions classroom the next day, after his classes were over. Harry was a little unsteady on his left foot as he walked, but the pain had ebbed away. Now the bottom of his foot was still a little swollen and the flesh scarred after Malfoy had performed a healing charm on it.

Presently, Malfoy was inspecting his large Potions volume. He looked up as Harry entered the dim Potions classroom. "Did you bring the Cloak?"

Harry simply pulled the shimmery fabric out of his pocket and raised it up for Malfoy to see. Malfoy's eyes widened a bit and he strode across the room toward Harry, an ardent look in his face.

"Father always told me about its existence," Malfoy began, brushing his fingers against the fabric. "I thought I'd never actually see one, though. They must be so rare."

Harry felt odd, knowing that he owned something Malfoy didn't have—that was certainly not the case with anything else. He thought he could sense the greediness Malfoy had often displayed when they were students at Hogwarts.

"How did you get it?" Malfoy asked. "You of all people, Potter—have an Invisibility Cloak?"

Harry put the fabric back into his pocket, hoping to rein in Malfoy's avarice. "It's actually quite a long story. I'd have to go into the Deathly Hallows to tie it all in."

Malfoy's eyes widened. "The Deathly Hallows? Don't tell me your cloak is one of the—"

"I don't actually plan on telling you anything," Harry said. He supposed Malfoy didn't know anything about what had happened in their seventh year with the Deathly Hallows. He supposed not many people knew. "I think we should head out soon."

Malfoy looked more curious than ever, but his greedy expression finally cleared and he said, "Fine." After a moment, he asked, "You're really sure that there might be a Dementor near the Whomping Willow?"

"The one Ron sent a Patronus after went into the passage between the Shrieking Shack and the tree. It could still be there. And if we have the Cloak, we might be able to hide from it."

"I can't believe I never knew there was a secret passageway there," Malfoy marveled.

Harry pursed his lips. "The tree was only planted to hide the passageway from students. It was to help Lupin with his werewolf transformations—so he'd have somewhere to go." He left it at that, because the thought of Lupin still brought back unpleasant memories of the War.

Malfoy sensed Harry's closure and instead said, "You know, I overheard some of my students talking about secret passageways the other day. There was another one that led to Hogsmeade and a few second years were attempting to sneak into the village without permission."

"Really?" Harry asked. "And what happened?"

"They mentioned that the passageway was blocked with ice—not surprising at this time of year—but also that as they reached the end, they saw fog rolling in, so they turned back."

"You don't think—" Harry started, alarmed.

"I don't know if that really implies anything," Malfoy said. "I just thought you ought to know."

Harry looked deep in thought. "Hagrid mentioned that these Dementors are intelligent, that they could be planning something."

Malfoy's lips formed a sneer, almost unconsciously, and he muttered, "I'll never understand you and that oaf Hagrid. I still have that bloody hippogriff scar on my arm."

Harry glared at him. "Would you leave my friends alone, for once? Even when I mention them in passing, you insult them."

Malfoy crossed his arms. "I have been on probably the best behavior you've ever seen from me. I think you should be thankful enough that I'm helping you with this little project."

Harry rolled his eyes, deciding that was the best response he could hope for. "Right. Well, I really do think we should get going. Whether or not there'll be a Dementor in front of the Whomping Willow."

They left the Potions classroom and strode toward the castle entrance, through which they went out to the main grounds. The Whomping Willow lay in the distance, down a hill, its limbs waving slightly to rid itself of the snow that coated the bare branches. The two hurried downward, and after being only twenty yards away from the Willow, Harry drew his wand.

"Immobulus!"

The tree's branches immediately stopped moving as Harry and Malfoy walked closer to the tree. Malfoy grabbed one of the branches and broke off part of it, putting the twig in his cloak.

"Well, this should be the easiest day for gathering ingredients," Malfoy remarked.

Harry grinned and began snapping off a few branches. The tree swayed slightly, as though attempting to break the charm, angered that they were severing its limbs.

"We'll also be needing a few of its roots," Malfoy mentioned. He crouched down and pulled out a small blade, then began working at the thick roots.

"Malfoy?" Harry said. "That girl yesterday, Mafalda—she mentioned that the other Houses blame the Slytherins for the appearance of the Dementors. Why is that?"

Malfoy snorted as he placed roots into a little pouch. "Well, I think that should be obvious. Even for someone as dimwitted as you."

Harry scowled at him, snapping off another branch. But it didn't seem like Malfoy held as much malice in his words as he once would have. "And if it isn't obvious? Why would she say that?"

"Because it's true," Malfoy replied simply. "You-Know-Who had rounded up quite a few Dementors before the final battle, guaranteeing them food at Hogwarts if they joined his ranks. The Dementors follow anyone who offers them a meal. But, obviously, You-Know-Who failed in his end of the bargain, though many of the Dementors hung around here afterward, expecting to be repaid. Others still joined them after they were released from Azkaban. Needless to say, the other Houses think the Slytherins—the Death Eaters who still believe in You-Know-Who—have not given the Dementors what they wanted, so it must be the Slytherins' fault that the bloody creatures aren't leaving."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "And how the hell was that so obvious? That must be the strangest logic I've ever heard. What do young students like Mafalda have to do with a war that ended before they even came to Hogwarts?"

"Don't tell me that," Malfoy shot. "I think I have a grasp of how illogical this entire situation has become."

Harry sighed heavily, hating to think the Slytherins victims for once. He returned his attention to the Whomping Willow, and was about to snap off part of a branch, before something caught his eye. From the dark hole between the enormous roots of the tree something wispy was emerging. The misty tendrils spread out and became fog-like. Harry immediately dropped his hand to his wand and backed up. The temperature, while cold already, dropped another ten degrees instantaneously.

"Malfoy?" Harry said slowly. "You'd better take a look at this."

Malfoy had been cutting roots from the immobilized tree and storing them in his pouch, when he turned to see what Harry was alarmed about. The fog had spread even further and the cold was enveloping them now.

"You don't think it's a—" Harry began.

"What else would it be?" Malfoy asked sharply. "Don't just stand there—get your Cloak out! I'm not done cutting these roots."

Harry hurriedly pulled out the shimmery cloak and crouched down beside Malfoy, throwing the fabric over both of them. He was closer to Malfoy than he was comfortable being and could hear his own and Malfoy's increased breathing. He could see Malfoy's concentrated face very clearly as he worked on the roots, his teeth worrying his bottom lip in nervousness, his blond eyebrows knitted very tightly, shadowing his eyes. Under the stifling material, suddenly Malfoy jerked his arm back as he hastily chopped the roots and hit Harry in the ribs with his elbow. Harry breathed in sharply, but refrained from moving or saying anything, as he caught sight of a ragged cloak emerging from the passageway.

The Dementor slithered out of the dark hole among the thick roots, unfolding its enormous corpse body and spreading out its arms, its tattered cloak billowing behind it. The large black hole of a mouth elongated, splitting its face in half. Fog engulfed Harry and Malfoy entirely, and the cold was more chilling than the below-zero weather they had experienced at the lake. Harry breathed in the scent of carrion and panic swallowed him up.

The creature glided toward them, as if certain of their location.

"What? How does it know?" Harry whispered, alarmed.

Malfoy paused in his cutting, and breathed in sharply, as though having realized something. "Idiots! We are such bloody idiots!"

Harry gave him a panicked look. "Why?"

"Dementors are blind," Malfoy said. "It wouldn't see us even if we didn't have this cloak. They sense our memories rather than our actual presence."

"Now you tell me," Harry muttered. Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed the cloak and pulled it off, realizing that it was futile to hide. He stood up and aimed his wand at the Dementor, desperately thinking of a happy memory. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he realized he was shielding Malfoy, who was probably helpless to defend himself against the creature. The Dementor pressed in on Harry, its bony, skeletal fingers reaching for Harry's collar. Harry screwed his eyes shut and concentrated. He felt the icy twig-like fingers grab his robes and suck in deeply.

Harry's resolve crumbled and he felt his mind give way. The dark memories overflowed their gates and crashed over him, waves and waves of horror drowning him. As clear as a bell, his mother's scream pealed through his mind, slicing the Patronus Charm as it died on Harry's lips. Harry stumbled backward, unsure if he was still conscious or not.

"Potter!" Another scream pierced his thoughts. Harry felt hands around his arms, dragging him backward, and the Dementor's influence lessened a bit. Harry's eyes flew open and he saw the creature yards from him, gliding forward again, as if infuriated that Harry had resisted it.

Then, regaining himself, Harry wrenched his arms out of Malfoy's hands and began sprinting toward the castle. He heard Malfoy follow him as they hurried up the hill. Harry didn't glance backward, in case he saw the monstrosity reaching toward him again. Once they reached the castle steps, they paused to regain their breath. Harry realized that unlike the time he had attempted to practice on the boggart, he hadn't fainted. This may have been because Malfoy had dragged him away at the last moment.

Harry looked at the bottom of the hill and saw that the Dementor was watching them from beneath the Willow's bare canopy. It lingered there for another moment, then glided back into the passageway.

"Hagrid's right," Harry said conclusively, his breathing still labored. "They're waiting. They won't follow us into the castle, because it's too risky. That one was tempted by us being so close, but it wouldn't actually break into Hogwarts."

Malfoy said nothing, but simply pulled out his pouch and counted the roots. He appeared satisfied that there were enough.

Breathing deeply, Harry took out a chocolate frog and bit off a corner of it. He chewed the bite slowly, lost in thoughts, before he noticed that Malfoy was staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked, biting off another corner of the frog.

Malfoy's face broke into a smirk. "I never realized Harry Potter had a sweet tooth. Now I know what to give you for your birthday."

Harry snorted, not fooled by the unusually intimate statement, as though now they were friends who followed each other's birthdays. "I do enjoy chocolate once in a while, but I'm not eating this to indulge. Lupin always told me that chocolate helps after an encounter with a Dementor."

"You and the werewolf sound close," Malfoy remarked, stuffing the pouch back into his cloak pocket.

"He was a good man," Harry said shortly. "And he was one of the few parental figures I've had, other than Sirius."

Malfoy's eyebrows instantly rose. "Sirius Black? The murderer? Your parental figure?"

Harry's face darkened. "Sirius was innocent. He would never have betrayed his friends the way Wormtail did."

But now Malfoy was entirely thrown for a loop. Not feeling particularly open, but deciding that this ambiguous statement needed an explanation, Harry told Malfoy about his godfather as they walked down the Hogwarts halls. How he had met him in his third year in the Shrieking Shack, how he had stopped Lupin and Sirius from murdering the rat that later assisted the Dark Lord in rising again, how Sirius had been innocent but nonetheless served thirteen years in Azkaban, how Harry had lost him to his inability to control his mind after practicing Occlumency with Snape.

Harry told Malfoy all this as they walked toward the Dungeons. Malfoy stopped him a few times to clarify time-related details, but otherwise listened rather carefully. Harry stared straight ahead as he said all this, not wanting to see Malfoy's reaction, whether it was a look of disgust or wonder.

"So his whole life, up until he died—no one knew that he was innocent?" Malfoy asked incredulously, as they reached his storage room.

Harry just shook his head sadly, unable to believe that he had just told Malfoy so much about such an intimate part of his life. And that Malfoy hadn't mocked him, or thrown around disgusted comments about Sirius.

"I can't stand that," Malfoy said, removing the items they had gathered from his cloak and pouch. "Even if he turned back on his family, Black deserved better than to be called a murderer his whole life. Of course, my family always told stories about him. His deserting his family—" Malfoy looked particularly bothered by this, "—and being a blood-traitor. But dying without anyone knowing the truth…"

"Well, now you know," Harry pointed out. "So now you understand why Lupin and Sirius were important to me. They were the closest I ever had to parents."

Malfoy looked thoughtful. "So Black died. And the werewolf died. And of course, your parents had died." He gave Harry a piercing gaze, as though reaching a conclusion. "How many people did you know died?"

Harry sighed deeply. "Do I really need to answer that? I think the answer is self-evident."

Malfoy continued staring at him, as though forming new opinions about Harry. Then, he turned back to his supplies and began placing the twigs and roots into containers, which he then labeled.

"What else do we need for the potion?" Harry asked, ready to leave the subject of his dead friends and relatives.

"There's still a few we need to get," Malfoy said as he used his wand to float the containers to a half-empty shelf in his storage room. "On the bright side, I did ask Abercrombie to gather some scarab beetles and dragonfly wings in lieu of his detention. He looked particularly disgusted with having to rip off the dragonflies' wings."

"He's lucky you didn't decide to poison him. That's what Snape might have done."

Malfoy shrugged. "It crossed my mind several times. But I decided he might be useful for these potion ingredients in the future."

"So what exactly are we still missing?" Harry asked again.

Malfoy paused to consider the question. "I think a Doxy egg, toad's feet, red bat ears, ginger root, and goosegrass."

Harry looked thoughtful. "The plants—ginger root and goosegrass—would somebody else in the castle have them?"

"There might be some growing in the Herbology classrooms," Malfoy began, his voice becoming bitter. "But no one in the other Houses would give me their valuable materials."

Harry suddenly grinned. "I think now you've forgotten who teaches Herbology. Neville will more than gladly give me any plant I need. No questions asked."

Malfoy looked up from organizing his ingredients. He locked eyes with Harry for a moment, and then began smiling. "For once, Potter, I'm glad you're in Gryffindor."

Harry's smile grew.

They decided to visit Neville the very next day.

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