DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, only this story. The songs used are not mine either. The first one, at the beginning of the chapter is from 'Happy Christmas' (War is over) by John Lennon. Thanks to InkandPaper/Vicky for suggesting its use, sending me the lyrics and for re-writing the second last stanza to suit Harry PotterThe second one, 'Come, O come, Emmanuel" is a popular carol. Thank you Folk/Ivy for suggesting it and sending me the lyrics. Thanks to both of you again for helping me to work out matters regarding Malfoy's wealth, and a special thank you again to InkandPaper for helping me out with the time-factor and the weather of England. A major part of this chapter would not have been written without you.
This chapter is dedicated to InkandPaper and Folk. You guys rock!
-Chapter Twenty-Four-
Christmas
So this is Christmas
And what have you done?
Another year over
A new year just began.
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun,
The near and the dear ones,
The old and the young.
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong,
The rich and the poor ones
The road is so long.
And so this is Christmas
For pure and muggleborn,
For Slyth'rins and Gryffindors
Let's make a new dawn.
A very happy Christmas
And a happy new year,
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear.
The potion brewing took a while. Hermione could not be convinced into starting on it before she had learnt up at least a dozen books by heart, and for once, nobody, Ron included, complained about her reading too much. On the Friday following the escape from Knockturn Alley, Hermione carefully emptied the bottle of morblometiserum into the shining new silver cauldron that Neville and Luna had bought from Diagon Alley. The colourless potion sparkled white. As Hermione and Draco worked silently, Harry stood aside and watched them work. The sight of the potion shimmering in the cauldron brought back memories of his first ever potion class, and he could hear Snape: "…the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human minds…I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death…"
He didn't know why he remembered this. Snape's classes were hardly pleasant memories, except for the satisfaction of knowing and remembering that he was dead, that he had paid for his betrayal of Dumbledore. But as he watched the cauldron now, and watched the potion that could give him either death or cure, he felt strangely fascinated by the sight.
Hermione brought him a beaker full of the final product at breakfast six days after they had started. Harry noticed that the potion now had a faint pinkish tinge. His throat was dry, and it had nothing to do with being thirsty. Forcing himself not to think, he wordlessly took the beaker from her and drank the whole thing in one swig. The others were watching him anxiously. He did not immediately feel anything, except a slight bittersweet taste in the mouth. Within a minute, however, he began to feel drowsy. A powerful desire to let go himself was overpowering him, and the frightened faces of his friends appeared to be blurred.
"I'm fling sleepy." He mumbled to no one in particular, his eyes out of focus, and a moment later, his head slumped down on the table, and Harry was unconscious.
"Wh-what happened? It didn't go wrong, did it?" Ginny asked, her face pale.
"No. He's only sleeping. That's the effect of wormwood and asphodel." Hermione replied in a low voice.
"Wormwood and asphodel?" Luna repeated, looking uncharacteristically alert, " But that is used to make the Draught of Living Death! Don't you think it's too strong?"
"We couldn't help it." Draco replied. "No other sleeping potion could have dulled the effects of morblometiserum and the pain caused by it alone is enough to kill. Morblometiserum is a strong poison, even asphodel and wormwood will not make him completely oblivious to the pain, but it was the best thing we could do."
And he was right. For several days after drinking the potion, Harry remained in a state of fevered slumber. He continuously tossed and turned, and moaned cries of pain in his sleep. But the others took heart as they saw his arm healing; the greenness gradually wore off, the scorched skin dried and shrunk and new, healthy skin began to grow to replace it.
One morning towards the end of November, when everybody except Harry (who was in bed) was at breakfast, an eagle-owl flew in through the window and landed on the table before Draco. Ron, who was next to him, measuring Harry's morning medicine in a beaker, looked up.
"Isn't that your old owl, Malfoy?"
Draco did not reply, but reached out his hand to untie the scroll tied to the bird's leg. He was confused. His parents were in Azkaban, who on earth could be writing to him? Not the Dark Lord, when he had such a nice press-button system engraved on their skins. He scowled darkly, and opened the letter. There was no name or address. The message was short.
Meet me at the Green Chamber, today at midnight. Come alone. And don't try to be too clever, it could prove injurious for you.
A friend.
"What is the matter, Malfoy?" he saw Granger watching him across the table.
"I don't really understand. You read it." he handed her the letter.
"…prove injurious for you?" she read aloud, "Doesn't sound much like 'a friend' to me. What is the Green Chamber?"
"A secret chamber in our manor. No, Weasley, it's not the one below the drawing room. I'm sure no one outside the family has ever heard about it, or I was. I don't know how this person found out. What does he want?"
"Do you know the handwriting?" Neville asked, when he had looked into the letter over Hermione's shoulder.
Draco shook his head.
"So we don't even know who wrote this." Hermione muttered thoughtfully.
"No." Draco replied after a while, "But I mean to find out tonight."
"Don't be stupid, Draco. This could be dangerous." Neville spoke up.
"I don't care." He retorted back stubbornly, "I want to know who's trespassing into my house."
"Malfoy, Neville's right. I don't think you should go. I have a feeling this is a trap. What if Voldemort knows you have switched sides?"
Draco choked on his cornflakes. Did they have to name him? "That's not possible." He said quickly.
"It is possible." She reasoned, "Maybe Bellatrix Lestrange or that other woman have said something to the aurors, and probably Voldemort has his spies there…"
"No." Ginny intervened, "Hermione, Kingseley and Tonks have been present during the interrogation. They would have known if Malfoy had been mentioned."
Hermione looked thoughtful.
"Draco, try and remember. Were there anyone besides the three of you who could have overheard the conversation with the deatheaters?"
Draco closed his eyes and tried to remember the scene. Who else was there? Borgins had already gone in through the backdoor when Aunt Bella and Alecto entered, and Alecto had sealed the door soon afterwards, making it soundproof.
"Did you two see anyone when you came in?" he addressed Neville and Luna.
They both shook their heads. Suddenly, Luna seemed to remember something.
"Draco," she said, "wasn't there another customer besides you in the shop? I thought we knocked down someone when we rushed in to help you."
"What are you talking…" Draco began perplexedly, but he stopped as soon as he had begun. There had been a third deatheater, not a customer. He had not seen his face because unlike the other two, he was hooded, and he had not spoken either. And then, Lovegood and Neville had knocked him off. Or did they? If he had been knocked off, he wouldn't be able to escape. Yet, the aurors had arrested only Bella and Alecto. Where did the third man go? They had been so busy celebrating the arrests and studying and worrying about the morblometiserum potion that he had completely forgotten about that silent third person.
"There was a third deatheater that day." He told the group quietly. "I think he's the one who has sent this letter. I am going to meet him tonight."
"But that's just crazy…" Ron argued, "I always knew you were mental, but…"
" I am going, Weasley." He said firmly, "Neville, pass the butter please."
The huge Malfoy manor was eerily deserted. Draco stared blankly at its outlines, indistinct in the dark.
"Torches used to glow throughout the night. And the giant chandelier in the entrance hall." He mumbled dazedly. "This place looks ghostly, haunted." The words seemed to rush out of him.
Ron and Hermione shared an awkward glance. They couldn't pretend they were sad about the Malfoys being sent to Azkaban, knowing that they deserved it, but they couldn't understand what to say to Draco either.
"Umm…Malfoy?" Hermione whispered cautiously.
Malfoy seemed to wake from a nightmare.
"You said something, Granger?"
"Are you sure about this?" she asked.
"I am. I am sure the Dark Lord doesn't know yet, or he wouldn't have waited so long. And he would have tried to call me before laying a trap like this. And if he does not yet know, we must ensure that he never does. Are you two sure you want to come along?"
It had been decided in the morning, after a heated argument amongst them that Malfoy would have to take two DA members along with him, and those two members were Ron and Hermione.
"Of course we are. If you did not want a muggleborn or a Weasley to enter your house, you should have said so in the meeting, and somebody else could have come." Said Hermione.
"I will thank you, Granger, if you kindly stop assuming that you know my mind. And anyway, if Luna mentions a Zephyra…whatever it was- one more time when I am cornered, I will die from the shock. Why don't you put that cloak on?"
Out came something light and silvery from Hermione's bag, and within a minute, they were both out of sight.
"Follow me." Draco whispered to the air, "Be careful not to knock into any object, you know what type of house this is. I am sorry about the welcome, but you brought yourself along."
He gently unlocked the door and pushed it open. It was locked. His guest, if he could be called that, did not probably use the main entrance.
He made his way in the dark stealthily. He could have gone on much faster, actually, he knew every nook and corner of his house, but he did not want Weasley and Granger to trip or knock into some cursed object. At length he led them into the library on the third floor, and stopped before one of the shelves.
"Careful, now." He whispered, and with his wand, tapped the fourth book in the middle row. Immediately, the entire shelf opened like a door to reveal a fairly large whole on the wall behind. He climbed inside, and was satisfied by the brushing of something soft against his ankle that the other two had followed him. He had never thought this would happen, that coming home would frighten him someday, but as he glanced around the dark chamber, he felt glad there was help at hand if he needed it.
There was nothing green about Green chamber. It had smooth stonewalls and floors and looked quite gray and normal. Draco did not know why it was called so, in fact, the question had never occurred to him before. Lucius Malfoy had used this room to store his poisons. Perhaps 'green' was just a name to hide the real fact about it. But where was that person who had asked him to come?
"Lumos." He muttered, and sent his wand beam searchingly across the chamber. There was nothing except a fat rat in a corner. He was turning back when it hit him. He pointed his wand back at the corner, and there was Peter Pettigrew, smiling luridly. Draco noticed his wand was out, and lowered his own.
"Who told you about this place?" he asked coldly.
"It helps being a rat, Draco. Very convenient to pick up news, find out ways…but that's hardly my reason for being here."
"Come to the point then. What is your reason?"
"Ah…the reason, Draco, is that I need some money."
"What?" Draco asked, wondering if he had heard right.
"I have to return, Draco. I am here to make a deal with you. Give me a couple of thousand galleons and I will leave."
"Two thousand galleons?" Draco repeated in disbelief, "What makes you think I will pay you this amount? Why should I pay even one galleon to you?"
"Because if you don't, Draco, the Dark Lord is going to hear what happened that day at Borgins and Burke's."
"I don't think he will hear anything, Wormtail." Draco said quietly.
There was a small squeaking laugh. It sounded quite ghastly.
"You can't silence me by killing me, Draco." Pettigrew said softly. "I have ensured that the Dark Lord comes to know of this meeting if I don't return in an hour. Your only option is to accept my term and let me go."
"You are lying." Draco replied.
"Maybe, maybe not." Came the reply. "But can you risk it?"
"Five-hundred galleons." Draco said shortly, "That is a big enough amount."
"Now you are talking. But sorry, Draco, there is going to be no bargaining. I want not a knut less from two thousand galleons. In fact, I should have asked for more, but I have decided to be moderate."
"What will do with so much money?" he asked desperately, but Wormtail only laughed.
"You have to give me time. You know I can't just walk into the bank now. And I can't withdraw so much money by owl order. I will contact you when I've got it. "
"I will wait, Draco. Don't think you can escape me. I will give you a month."
"I need more time than that. I can pay in parts every month."
"We will see." And he was gone.
Draco turned to face Ron and Hermione. They had already taken their cloak off.
"You are not paying that slimy traitor." Ron said furiously.
"I don't want to. It's almost half our fortune he's asking for. Suggest another way?"
The weather had been quite mild and warm for November; the autumn seemed to be clinging to summer. Suddenly one morning, they woke up to find icicles hanging from their windowsills. Harry was better, but still too weak to get out of bed. By the middle of December, however, he began to regain his strength little by little. On learning he was sick, Mrs.Weasley had moved to headquarters, and though she had not been able to find out what was wrong with Harry from any of his friends, she had at least ensured that he got enough to eat.
"I am so happy that you got well before Christmas, Harry." She told him one morning, while force-feeding him the fifth bacon sandwich; "It would have been so bad if you had to spend Christmas Eve on bed."
"Mrs.Weasley, I swear I can't eat anymore." Harry pleaded, and finally convinced her to leave him alone. When she had left, he climbed out of bed and looked out of the window. It was Christmas already. He hadn't realized time had flown so fast. Life had been so relaxed one year ago. There had been the loss of Sirius, but Dumbledore had still been there. The biggest worry then had been how to ask Ginny out, and what Ron would think of the matter. And Ron busy snogging Lavender Brown. There had been those parties of the Slug Club. In fact, it seemed to Harry, it was only a few days back when he had left the Privet Drive and arrived at The Burrow. Where did the months go?
His friends, like Mrs.Weasley, had woken up to the fact that Christmas was nearby as well, and to celebrate Harry's getting well, they decided to make a grand celebration. Harry watched them, running all over the houses, cleaning and decorating, often with senior Order members joining in. Even the twins dropped in frequently, and when Harry asked them who was looking after their joke-shop, they simply shrugged airily. He wasn't allowed to help, though.
"You need rest, Harry. You are still recovering from a serious illness." Hermione had told him sternly, with a look not unlike Professor McGonagall. He could hear snatches of laughter and carols as he remained in his room, and he was reminded of his last Christmas in that house.
'God bless ye merry hippogriff…' A dark haired man laughed, again and again in his mind.
Finally, the week of Christmas arrived, and Harry was completely cured. He helped in the last minute decorations and got into some indoor-snowball fights with the fake snowballs from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. He woke up on the morning of Christmas to find a pile of gifts waiting for him, and started to unwrap them at once. Ron, on the next bed, was similarly engaged. There was a mismatched pair of socks from Dobby, a book on Defensive Magic from Hermione, and another from the Lupins among his presents. He found a lumpy package addressed to him by Kreacher, and tossed it into the fireplace without caring to open it. Mrs.Weasley's usual package of homemade sweets and a jumper (scarlet with designs in green) was there too, and this year she had also knitted him an armband. The whole Order seemed to be at headquarters for the party, and Dobby had arrived to help with the food. Neville had gone to visit his parents with his grandmother in the morning, but he too, came back my evening. They had a dance, and lots of fake snowballs and plenty of food and drinks.
After dinner, most of the Order members left, and not a few of them before warning Harry to watch his step carefully and avoid injuries (for the umpteenth time) and they were left to themselves. The Weasleys were leaving the next morning, but they had all gone to bed. The twins were of course, in their flat at Diagon Alley. The little radio on the table was still on, playing Christmas carols. Harry listened sleepily while Hermione hummed the tune absent-mindedly next to him.
O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Harry yawned. It was time to go to bed. He looked around the kitchen. Relics of the party were scattered everywhere. There were balloons that had burst, wrappers of sweets, glittering ribbons and paper chains that had come off. There was work for tomorrow. So much for a great party! Harry stooped and picked up a wrapper for an Ice Mice that was lying nearby and made to chuck it into the bin. His eyes fell on the label and he stopped suddenly.
O come, Thou Rod of Jesse, free
Thine own from Satan's tyranny
From depths of Hell Thy people save
And give them victory o'er the grave
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
There was a picture of a squeaking mouse on the wrapper. It reminded him of Wormtail. He had heard about Wormtail's demand from Draco from Ron and Hermione, but first he had been ill, and then too many people had arrived to arrange the party, and it was difficult to discuss it further. Now he remembered.He wondered what Wormtail was going to do with the money, but whether Draco paid him or not, there was always the chance of getting caught. After all, a betrayal from Peter Pettigrew wouldn't exactly be something new. It's been nearly a month since he had made that offer, and nothing had been done. Harry could not afford to have Malfoy's cover blown; he needed his help to kill Nagini. Which meant he had little time to lose before he destroyed the other horcrux.
O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
"Hermione." He called in a low voice. She did not seem to hear him. "Hermione?" he called again.
Hermione gave a little start and turned to look at him.
"I am so sorry, Harry, I dozed off. It's quite late, isn't it? I think we should go up now."
"Yes. Hermione, listen to me…"
O come, Thou Key of David, come,
And open wide our heavenly home;
Make safe the way that leads on high,
And close the path to misery.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
"We are quite prepared with our researches, Harry." Hermione told him. "We were only waiting for you to get well. We can go tomorrow, if you want."
"Go where?" Ron asked beside her.
"The Misty Woods." Harry replied. "It's time we get hold of that goblet."
O come, O come, Thou Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes, on Sinai's height,
In ancient times did'st give the Law,
In cloud, and majesty and awe.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.
Author's Notes: Merry Christmas, everyone. Please be nice and review.