Chapter 38 – What Comes Next

Harry woke to the sound of chanting. Low, droning, and monotonous, Lucius Malfoy stood, eyes closed with his hands clasped to the sides of his head, chanting in that strange language Harry had never heard before. The murky miasma from the Diadem was clustered around Lucius's head, whirling about like a sickly vortex.

Definitely bad news.

No one seemed interested in Harry. Although to be fair, there was only really Lucius there – Draco was silent, motionless, on the floor next to the statue Harry had dropped on him. And Voldemort… Voldemort was presumably inside the Diadem.

Or inside Lucius; Harry wasn't sure how far along the ritual was.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

Harry struggled to get to his feet.

Pain. Unimaginable pain. Harry slid back to the ground, hissing. He'd fucked it. Everything had gone wrong, and in the most spectacular of ways. He had to… he had to…

Harry took a sharp, shallow breath. Regretted it immediately – the tug of his chest opened the wound again. More blood.

But he still had his wand. He could… there was always an option… Harry just needed to find it.

Harry steadied himself. He didn't want to risk lifting his arm, not when simply breathing caused such a reaction. But what to do? He had to interrupt the ritual again. He'd done it once. Twice, he supposed, although dropping a statue onto Draco-Voldemort had been only temporary.

At least Lucius didn't seem to be paying attention to Harry. He'd recovered from being knocked over by the statue, which was admittedly not ideal, but rather than see to Harry, he'd gone right back to the ritual. Or whatever it was he was doing with the Diadem.

Could Harry use that?

Lucius was an awful person. Perhaps even evil, although Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be throwing that word around willy-nilly. But his one positive trait – at least as far as Harry had seen – was that he really did love Draco. Was willing to not only give his life to save his son's but serve as a host for Voldemort. Body and mind, life and soul, and all for the chance at Draco surviving.

Harry glanced at Draco. He seemed to be alive. He looked to be breathing, at least, even if it was shallow. But the marks on his head… the thick, snaking lines and the band around his forehead where the Diadem had been hadn't gone anywhere.

This is taking too long, Harry thought, frustrated. He couldn't afford to wait. If he died here, in the Room of Hidden Things, Lucius would escape with Voldemort inside him and nobody would ever know. But Harry couldn't simply sneak out of the Room either, as the only way out – especially given Harry's injury – was through Lucius. So if he did nothing, Lucius would escape and Harry would probably still die anyway. Or be killed.

That was… unsettling. More than unsettling. But Harry pushed the thoughts away. He could come to grips with his mortality later… if there was a later.

Harry didn't think there was a way out of this where Harry escaped and Lucius didn't. If Harry was going to get out – to survive for later, to tell Dumbledore about what had happened, whatever – then that would mean Lucius and Draco got out, too. Unless Harry could stun Lucius… but he didn't have any practise with the Stupefying Charm. He wasn't at all sure he could even pull off the spell – not even under normal circumstances. And Lucius, partially possessed by the bit of Voldemort inside the Diadem, might prove resistant to that anyway.

His gambit with the statue had only worked a little bit, and temporarily at that. A well-placed Knockback could cause an avalanche of the various bits of junk surrounding the three of them, but that had the potential to harm Harry, too, and then they'd be right back where they started – all three of them stuck in the Room of Hidden Things at an impasse.

Although… Harry thought, maybe that's not so bad. Tracey and Ernie knew where he'd be, and Harry had told Fred to get Dumbledore, so presumably help was on the way. He just needed to stall, prevent the ritual from reaching completion, and make sure nobody died.

Well, when I say it like that, sounds easy…

More chanting. Lucius kept at it, repeating the same phrases over and over again, his eyes closed and his fist clenched around his wand. The foul miasma whirling around his body seemed to get smaller and smaller, although it wasn't happening quickly. So that meant there was time. A little time, anyway.

Harry chanced lifting his wand. Immediately he wished he hadn't – pain searing through his chest, up into his shoulders. Throbbing, stabbing… and blood.

Pain means you're still alive, Harry thought. Could be worse.

Harry dropped his arm. Took a deep breath.

Lucius hadn't even noticed him. Or if he had, he was worrying about much more than just Harry. The elder Malfoy seemed intent on completing the ritual, on transferring the possession from Draco to himself. Short of attacking him, Harry didn't think there was anything he could do to distract Lucius, and though he was more than willing to do that, he didn't think his body was up to the task.

None of the more dangerous spells, anyway.

But Lucius had shown a willingness to sacrifice everything to save Draco. Would he do so again? Well, it was an avenue for attack, anyway. Target Draco, make Lucius decide between continuing the ritual and protecting his son… and Harry could go from there. And there was always the chance Lucius decided to cut and run, especially if he could get away without completing the ritual.

Lots of ifs. Lots of really miniscule chances that he was right. That Harry could manage even the very basic plan he'd come up with.

It would have to do.

Plan decided, at least in its general shape, Harry turned his attention to the specifics. He couldn't manage anything fancy – with his injury, that was going to be impossible. He didn't think he could manage any of the spells which used more intricate manoeuvres.

Which left… a staggeringly small collection of spells, but they were all spells Harry knew very well. The Knockback Hex. The Levitation Spell. He could probably pull off a Summoning Charm and a Banishing Charm. The Rope-Conjuring Spell was out – much too complex a wand motion. More's the pity, as a tied-up Lucius would be much easier to deal with.

But the spells Harry could cast would have to be enough.

Harry took as deep a breath as he dared to gird himself, then forced himself to his feet. He replayed the same thought over and over in his head as a mantra – pain means you're still alive. It helped. Harry lifted his wand.

"Flipendo!" he said. It worked, although the spell that hit Lucius Malfoy was weaker than any Knockback Harry had cast in quite some time. Malfoy jolted at the impact, opened his eyes and missed a beat in his chant.

But he didn't move to respond. Instead, he resumed his chant, eyes open.

Right where I want you, Harry thought. Now…

With a great effort Harry turned towards the prone form of Draco. He leaned back against the pile of junk for some support, then pointed his wand at Draco.

"Levioso," Harry said. Draco's still form rose into the air and started to float away. "Accio!" said Harry, aiming for Draco's robes. The Summoning Charm pulled Draco towards Harry, away from where Lucius stood with the Diadem. Then, when Draco had moved quite some distance, Harry cast again. "Depulso!"

Draco went flying backwards, crashed into a stack of broken chairs.

And from Lucius… hesitation. It was clear as day that he wanted to stop the ritual. Take Draco and run. And as much as Harry felt like an arsehole for targeting an unconscious foe, his plan was working.

Harry took another deep breath and renewed the Levitation Spell. Summoned Draco towards himself – again – and then once more banished him into the stack of chairs.

"Stop the ritual," Harry forced out after a few moments. "Stop, and I'll stop. You don't have to do this."

More chanting. Faster, though. Was Lucius trying to finish it quicker?

Harry cast another Knockback at Lucius, then as Draco started to fall, another Levitation Spell. He was ready to boast he could keep it up all afternoon… but he knew that wasn't true. Knew Malfoy would see it as the lie it was. Harry cast another barrage of spells at Draco, sent him twirling and cascading through the air.

And then… Lucius stopped chanting. With a jerk of his wand Lucius plucked Draco from the chaotic trajectory Harry had sent him on and drew him close.

"You'll get what's coming to you, Potter," hissed Malfoy. Then, with a rough jerk of his wand, Harry went careening into the wall of junk.

Lucius ran.

While Harry dealt with the pain from that, bits and pieces of the haphazardly stacked construction came tumbling down around him, and he was once again knocked unconscious.

Harry awoke later to find himself alone, sticky and covered in blood, and with a sharp, persistent throb in his chest where Voldemort had cut him. The bleeding had stopped, but Harry didn't feel much like standing regardless. Harry glanced around the room to check for signs of Draco and Lucius, but both Malfoys were gone. The only thing to show where they had been was the sculpture Harry had knocked over, smashed to pieces and moved from where it had fallen on top of Draco.

Draco and Lucius had gone, the Diadem – and that piece of Voldemort hidden inside it – taken with them. Presumably inside Lucius. He struggled to his feet, then wobbled and fell back against the cauldrons melted by Voldemort's spell. His boots stuck to the congealed blood pooled on the floor, and the room spun.

Harry took a few more moments to steady himself, then thought about what to do next. He didn't know how long he'd been stuck in the Room of Hidden Things – easily twenty minutes spent looking for and then fighting with Draco-Voldemort, and however long he'd been unconscious, added to the walk up to the seventh floor from the duelling arena in the first place. The Room of Hidden Things had windows, but they were enchanted windows that seemed to show the same time of day at all times, so Harry couldn't gauge the time of day by that. The blood on the floor, and the weakness Harry felt all throughout his body, suggested to him that he'd been out of commission for quite some time. That meant Lucius and Draco and Voldemort were well on their way to Malfoy Manor, if not already there. Assuming that's where they'd gone, at least.

So Harry had to find Dumbledore.

The duelling tournament would have been finished by then, even if Harry had only been unconscious a few moments while Lucius and Draco made their escape. Depending on how long Harry had been knocked out, the castle could be bustling, filled to the brim with people ... or they could all be still at the arena listening to the press.

Harry didn't have his Cloak, so couldn't make his way to Dumbledore's office invisible. He'd have to chance being seen.

Assuming he could actually move. Leaning against the wall of melted cauldrons was difficult enough, and he hadn't even tried to take a step. But he couldn't just stay in the Room of Hidden Things forever. The longer he waited the weaker he would be, so Harry took a tentative step forwards.

So far, so good, Harry thought. He could have done without the constant, sharp stab all across his chest, but it was only pain. He could manage that. He'd been whacked by bludgers and all sorts of things in preparation for the flying events all year – a little cut wouldn't stop him. More worrying was the dizziness and the lack of focus whenever he looked at anything. He felt as if he didn't have his glasses on, but he did.

Harry leaned against the more stable-looking collections of junk as he hobbled his way out of the Room of Hidden Things. He couldn't quite remember the route he'd taken from the ritual circle, and he had absolutely no idea how he'd reached the ritual circle in the first place. But he still had to get out of the room, so he plodded onwards. The maze-like interior of the Room of Hidden Things had been a boon to Harry as he lured Draco-Voldemort away from the ritual circle, but now it seemed like it would thwart Harry's own attempt to leave.

Harry took a moment to rest against a battered four-poster bed piled with all sorts of junk. He breathed as deep as he dared given the sore and not-entirely congealed gash in his chest.

"So stupid," Harry muttered to himself between breaths. He should have gone to Dumbledore about his concerns. Should have said something to Fred Weasley to get Dumbledore if Harry didn't come back. Should have stunned Lucius instead of just using a Knockback. Should have done any number of things, really. Harry sighed. Harry wished he'd known, wished he'd have thought...

"But if wishes were kneazles we'd all have kittens," he muttered. There was no point dwelling on it. He'd assumed Draco had been doing something suspicious and had been right. He hadn't assumed that suspicious thing was letting Voldemort live in his head. But then, it wasn't Harry's fault he didn't know that wizards could do whatever Voldemort had done and hide part of himself in a stupid crown.

Harry wobbled and stumbled his way through the Room of Hidden Things, going nowhere fast. Every few steps Harry had to stop and rest, the combination of pain and fatigue too much.

And then he heard voices. Voices from inside the Room, but which weren't Draco or Lucius Malfoy.

"Harry!" shouted one of them. "Harry? Are you hurt?"

"Harry, mate! Please answer!"

Tracey and Ernie. They'd somehow figured out the trick to opening the door. That was… good. Great, even.

"I'm here!" Harry shouted, although it came out more of a croak. "By the—there's a—pile of broken desks…"

"That's hardly the helpful hint you think it is, Potter," scoffed a third voice. Snape. Not exactly who Harry had wanted to see but given the circumstances he didn't think he could be too picky.

Harry took a few moments to catch his breath. Glanced around for some sort of landmark, some visual aid he could use to direct his friends and Snape to where he was… but in a room filled with endless piles of the same sorts of junk, that was hard.

But he didn't need one. He still had his wand. He could send up a shower of sparks. That was easy enough, barely even magic. He just had to lift his arm…

Harry tried. Failed. A sharp pain all through his chest, up his shoulder and down his arm.

"Harry?" shouted Tracey. "Are you alright?"

"Not… really," Harry managed after a few moments. "I've been better. I'm going to try sparks, just… hang on."

Lifting his entire arm was out. Harry knew that now. But he could angle the wand and shoot sparks as high as they could go, and that would have to be enough. And if it wasn't, well… the Room of Hidden Things wasn't infinite in its dimensions, so they'd find him eventually.

Harry shot bright green sparks from his wand, kept it going as long as he could.

"There!" shouted Ernie. "Professor, he's this way!"

"Do not approach him without me, Macmillan!" Snape said, but neither Tracey nor Ernie listened, and Harry was soon met by Tracey. A few moments later, from a different direction, Ernie.

"Harry!" Tracey said. "You're alr—" and the she stopped. "Oh, no…"

"My God! Your chest!" said Ernie.

They both rushed to support him. Harry leaned into them and let them take some of the weight off.

"I'm fine. Really. But I need Dumbledore," Harry said eventually. "Draco was—it's hard to explain. Where is he?"

Tracey and Ernie shared a look.

"Mate, it's all gone a bit mad," Ernie said. "After you and Draco both failed to turn up for the bout there was this massive fuss. They disqualified you and Draco, then there was a big argument over who to push through… they had Granger and some bloke from Beauxbatons replace you in the end, something to do with the points. Then Fred Weasley managed to get Dumbledore and Dumbledore got up to go somewhere, so... so..."

"So we had to go and tell him everything we knew," Tracey said when Ernie didn't finish. "He knew how to open the Room—it's called the Room of Requirement—but it has different rooms inside, see, and unless you know the right one, you can't open it. That's why we couldn't—But then... well, by the time we found him and we got past the Aurors and all that, it was already..."

"Lucius Malfoy came tearing through the castle carrying Draco, see. He looked half-dead," said Ernie. He paused. "There was something wrong with his face... but everyone saw, because by then the duelling was over. He ran out onto the grounds, but I think some of the photographers got him... Dumbledore sent Hagrid after them, but I don't think he found them in time because they haven't come back. The Minister was here as well, but he left not long after the Malfoys did."

Harry groaned. A promising day had turned into a disaster of proportions unparalleled in Harry's academic career thus far.

"Dumbledore sent us here with Snape to get you out of the Room," Tracey continued. "Because of all the Ministry officials about, he couldn't just... well, with what happened. It's going to be a major scandal." Tracey lowered her voice and they stopped walking for a moment. "Snape wanted to lock down the whole school, but Dumbledore said no. So we're supposed to stay on the lawns or in the main courtyard..."

As the three of them waited for Snape, Ernie leaned over and spoke quietly.

"Mate, your aunt is furious. Not at you, mind—but no one's told her anything. They've just sent her to the Hospital Wing with your uncle and cousin. Just thought you should know."

Harry hadn't even considered that his aunt, uncle, and Sirius would still be at the castle. But then, of course they would be – there was no way his aunt would let herself get sent back to Hogsmeade with Harry missing.

"You foolish children!" Snape shouted at Ernie and Tracey. "I said to wait."

"We just wanted to make sure he was okay, Professor," Tracey said. "I didn't think…"

"And if he was not alone? What then?" said Snape. He sighed, looked at Harry. "You are… yourself?" He conjured a stretcher for Harry and pushed Tracey and Ernie out of the way.

It hovered about waist height from the cool stone floor.

"Er, yes, sir," Harry said. A question about possession? Just how much did Snape know, exactly?

"Look at me," ordered Snape. Harry did.

After a few moments Snape seemed satisfied. He looked away.

"Lay, Potter," directed Snape. "I shall not have it said I failed in my duties as your Head of House." After a few moments of Harry doing nothing, Snape barked another command. "Now!"

Harry sat himself on the stretcher and laid himself out across it, even though he felt it entirely too much. He could probably have made it to the Hospital Wing without it, especially if he'd had the help from Tracey and Ernie. Once Harry had settled Snape cast a few wordless spells over him, and immediately started muttering to himself.

"Blood Replenishing Potions, at least three... Concussion..."

Snape sighed. Without another word he started to walk away and Harry's stretcher – along with Tracey and Ernie – followed after him.

The route back to the entrance to the Room of Requirement was circuitous, although fortunately less so than the one Harry had taken on the way in. And at least there was Snape, ready to vanish or levitate or otherwise deal with anything particularly tricky, and they were soon back into the castle proper.

Snape chose a route through the castle that was, mercifully, mostly free of people. The Gryffindors had evidently been cowed well enough by Snape's presence near their Tower entrance to stay well away, but as they descended through the castle the corridors grew busier, and Harry wished Dumbledore had locked down the whole school.

"Oh my God," Harry heard one girl say as they passed through the corridor. "All that blood..."

"Fifteen points from Ravenclaw, Miss Gloome! This is neither the lawn nor the main courtyard!" said Snape. The girl gasped and then scurried away, but Harry knew that was it – by dinnertime the entire school and their parents and whoever else they sent letters to would know that Harry Potter had been involved in something bloody.

Literally.

It wouldn't take very long at all for people to link Harry's bloodied appearance and Lucius Malfoy's escape from the castle carrying Draco. And it would of course generate all sorts of rumours that would get nowhere near to the truth, although the truth was quite strange.

Snape sent Tracey and Ernie ahead to clear the way, and Harry saw nobody else on his way to the Hospital Wing.

Far from the serene calm Harry associated with Madam Pomfrey's domain, inside the Hospital Wing was chaos. Petunia stood shouting at a pale-faced and tired-looking Auror while Vernon – usually the louder and more argumentative of the two – attempted to calm her down. Dumbledore, Professor Moody, and Miss Tonks stood discussing something, while Madam Pomfrey flitted from cabinet to cabinet busying herself.

Sirius – still Polyjuiced into Dudley – sat silently in a chair facing the doors to the Hospital Wing. He stood up as soon as he saw Harry.

"Harry!"

Everything stopped at Sirius's words. Madam Pomfrey stopped moving linens from one cupboard to another. Dumbledore stopped mid-sentence. Even Petunia stopped shouting to look at Harry.

The silence lasted only the briefest of moments before everyone started speaking at once.

"Where have you been?" shrieked Petunia.

"That's a lot of blood," said Vernon, usually red face drained all colour.

"Potter, the Auror Office and the Ministry has questions for you regarding—" said the Auror.

"Perhaps now is not the time," suggested Dumbledore to the Auror.

"Quiet!" shrieked Madam Pomfrey. "Out, out! All of you! There is an injured child!" She brandished her wand at the others in the Hospital Wing, and all of them – from Dumbledore to the Auror, even Petunia and Vernon – acquiesced, and started to flood out of the room. Before Harry's aunt and uncle and Sirius got out of the door, she relented. "The family may stay."

Pomfrey took over Harry's stretcher and offloaded him onto one of the Hospital Wing beds. Petunia and Vernon lingered at the edge, clearly unwilling to risk the end of an irate mediwitch's wand, although Sirius did step a bit closer.

Dumbledore lingered at the door.

"Stabilise him, Poppy. Make him comfortable. See to his wound. But I will be back later tonight," Dumbledore said before he left the Hospital Wing. Madam Pomfrey frowned but said nothing. When Dumbledore had gone, she administered a foul-tasting potion to Harry wordlessly.

Within moments, Harry was once again asleep.

When Harry woke up again later the lights had dimmed in the Hospital Wing, and the only people inside were his aunt Petunia and Madam Pomfrey. The windows showed only the dark night sky, so Harry knew it was well past the usual curfew. He'd slept through the day.

"Oh! You're awake!" said Madam Pomfrey. "It must be time for another Blood Replenishing Potion... just a moment, please!" She hurried away to the little chamber where she kept the stronger potions and left Harry alone with his aunt.

"The cut..." said Petunia from beside Harry's bed. "It was so... big." She stared down at where the cut would have been on Harry's chest, although it had gone now, and he was covered by the Hospital Wing blankets. Still, he felt strangely on show. Self-conscious, almost. "Poppy fixed it in seconds. Magic, I know. But for someone more used to... well."

Petunia stared off in the direction Madam Pomfrey had gone for a few moments.

"What happened, Harry? They haven't said anything. But you didn't come to your match, and I knew something was wrong then, because you were so excited for it... you know, we were excited to see it after the last ones. But then you didn't come, and Dumbledore went off somewhere, and then that man came through with your ... friend. When Dumbledore got back he sent all of the press away, but they had already taken photographs..."

Harry turned to look at his aunt. Her eyes were red, her makeup had run.

"It's really complicated, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, his voice creaky. "But, er... Draco didn't turn up first. When we were waiting in the waiting room to go on, I mean. But I knew where he was, because I've been... well..."

"Mrs Dursley," said Dumbledore suddenly. "Petunia. Might I ask that you give me some time with your nephew? There are things we must discuss which would be ... safer ... for you not to know. Legally and practically speaking."

Petunia scowled at the sight of Dumbledore, grasped the edge of Harry's blankets so tight her knuckles went white.

"I hardly think now is appropriate, nor do I think it suitable for you to meet with my nephew alone after such an injury, not to mention that his legal guardian should not be kept unaware of—"

Harry grasped Petunia's hand.

"It's alright, Aunt Petunia. I'll tell you everything later. I promise. But it really will be safer if you don't know. Please."

Harry didn't want his aunt to get pulled too deeply into Voldemort's shit. Muggles had weaker mental defences than wizards, and had nothing in the way of abilities to defend against magic regardless. It would put her in danger to know too much. And legally speaking, well... Dumbledore probably intended to weave all sorts of lies to the Ministry. Better to keep his family out of that.

Petunia looked from Dumbledore to Harry, the scowl never leaving her face. But eventually she stood.

"I'll be waiting just outside," she said, and she left the Hospital Wing.

Dumbledore took her vacant seat.

"Explain," Dumbledore said. His tone was stern, far sterner than he usually was. "I have spoken with Miss Davis and Mr Macmillan. I have even spoken with Sirius on his role in this affair. I have visited the Room of Hidden Things and looked at the ritual circle. Now it is your turn to explain. So, explain this afternoon's mess, and the events which led to it, if you will."

Harry didn't know where to begin. A lot had happened. To properly explain how he'd got to the Hospital Wing that evening… well, he'd have to go right back to the summer. To the Quidditch World Cup.

"I met the Malfoys at the World Cup in the summer," Harry said. "I was there with Ernie—Macmillan. We met up with Theodore Nott, and he said that Draco had been really weird over the summer. I didn't think much of it, to be honest, but then when I saw the Malfoys, they all looked… weird. I'd never met Lucius or Draco's mum before, so I didn't—well there wasn't much to go on. But Lucius looked really stressed and Draco was just… weird." Harry shrugged. He explained to Dumbledore what Theodore had said about Draco acting strangely, about not being allowed to visit Malfoy Manor, about everything surrounding Draco and the elder Malfoys' weirdness. About Sinistrus Nott visiting the Manor at all hours.

"I see," Dumbledore said after a prolonged pause from Harry. "There is more, of course."

"Er, yeah—right," Harry said. "So, all that in the summer, and then there was… well… this year on the way to school we were all—all of us in Viper Group I mean—meant to sit together on the train. Daphne wanted… well, that doesn't matter. But we were supposed to sit together on the train, only when it came time, Draco didn't want to. Vince and Greg—Crabbe and Goyle—were with him too. And he took Pansy and Victoria with him as well. Daphne was upset, but I didn't mind to be honest, since I don't really like any of them. I just thought we were drifting apart as a group, you know… but then Theodore said… Well, he said that Mr Crabbe and Mr Goyle had been visiting Malfoy Manor too."

"You say that you had knowledge of secret meetings of Death Eaters at Malfoy Manor as early as September and you did not think to inform me?" interrupted Dumbledore.

Harry leaned back. Put like that, it sounded obvious that Dumbledore would have wanted to know. But at the time… well, at the time it hadn't sounded quite so bad. Lucius Malfoy was officially innocent, and Crabbe and Goyle senior had never actually gone to trial. Sinistrus Nott had never even had any charges levelled against him. Harry just hadn't thought…

"When you put it like that," Harry said. "I just… I didn't know they were… I mean, I'd heard the rumours, obviously, but… I didn't think there was much to go on." It sounded a poor excuse. It was a poor excuse. Harry had assumed the worst from the moment he'd heard it – and had been right. If he'd just gone to Dumbledore…

Dumbledore peered over the rim of his half-moon glasses at Harry.

"Moving forward, assume I am always interested in the movements of known and suspected Death Eaters," he said. His tone was even, not especially harsh… and yet Harry knew his words for the rebuke that they were. "I will decide whether such information is worth my consideration."

"Yes, sir," Harry said. "Of course."

"Continue."

"Well, er… after that there wasn't much to go on, to be honest. Theodore said about it, and then Draco was acting weird. Then all the Triwizard stuff happened. And Draco was—I know this is going to sound a bit petty—but Draco was really good at duelling. Like, better than he should have been. So that was when I thought something was definitely up. And he was asking strange questions in lessons as well, especially in Moo—Professor Moody's lessons."

"Yes, Alastor did mention," murmured Dumbledore. "Of course, neither of us was close to understanding why."

"So I thought all that was unusual, since it's not really like Draco to… well… but when he started missing lessons and flight training and everything else I started following him to try and see what he was up to. That's when I found out about the Room of Requirement—but I didn't know what it was then. Me, Tracey, and Ernie were trying to figure out what Draco was doing in there, then we were going to come to tell you about it. Actually, I was planning on telling you today after the duelling, only… well…" Harry looked down at himself. At the thin sheet covering his chest, where he had a new scar ready and waiting for him to get used to. "This all happened. I'm sorry. I was stupid; I should have—"

"What's done is done," said Dumbledore. "Let this be a lesson. If we can salvage something from this sorry affair, let it be an understanding of what we must do moving forward."

"I will, Professor. So then before the finals today… Draco was there for the third round. He was in the waiting room with me and Fred—Weasley—even though he wasn't talking much. But then not long before our duel he disappeared. I went to get him—I thought I could catch up to him and make him go to our duel. But he was gone. Then Lucius Malfoy caught up to me and forced me to take him to where Draco was…"

Although Harry hadn't exactly tried hard to get away. He'd co-operated, even.

"He tried using the Imperius Curse on me, Professor," Harry said. "Could we use my memories as proof of it? If we wanted to press charges, I mean? And he even admitted he was working for Voldemort. Well, sort of—I said about it and his answer was basically that he was. But, sir, Voldemort and Wormtail are both at Malfoy Manor. Lucius told me that Draco was given a—a mission, I suppose, this year. He was supposed to get this Diadem thingy from the Room and bring it back to Voldemort."

"The Diadem of Ravenclaw?" said Dumbledore softly. "A delicate crown? Did you see it?" Harry's question went unanswered.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah. Draco was wearing it. But it was… well… it was cursed. I didn't know it was an artefact from Ravenclaw. But Voldemort did something to it. He was… it was sort of… Professor, Voldemort was using it to possess Draco. That's why Draco was being weird all year. But it wasn't actually… I know this is going to sound stupid but it wasn't the Voldemort I saw last year. It was a different one. Is that even possible?"

Silence. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. More silence.

"I told you last year of a magic so Dark, so unspeakably foul that it is forbidden to talk about. I believe you have witnessed its fruits," Dumbledore said eventually. "It is possible for a wizard to hide a portion of his soul inside an object. We call such a thing a horcrux. It is, I must reiterate, an abominably evil creation. I have feared for some time that this is what Voldemort has done, the reason why he persists as a spiritous entity… and I believe that you have confirmed this fear."

"Shit," Harry said. That didn't sound at all good.

"Shit indeed," said Dumbledore.

"He was possessing Draco," Harry continued, "and we fought. I don't think the possession was really working that well, though, because he wasn't as strong as I'd have thought. I mean, he was obviously stronger than I am, that's why I'm here with this new scar…" Harry said. He glanced down at his chest. "But… I think Lucius realised the possession hadn't taken. So then he asked if Voldemort could leave Draco and possess Lucius instead. So then… around when that was happening… that's when I dropped the statue on them, tried to stop the ritual or—or whatever it was. It worked for a bit, but I knocked us all out. When I woke up, Lucius was chanting in this weird language. I tried to stop him again, but it didn't work, and that's when he ran off. I think that's… that's everything, Professor."

Harry sighed. Laid out like that, the whole sorry story seemed a tragedy of epic proportions, and one that could have been easily avoided. If Harry had gone to Dumbledore months ago, just after the start of the school year… or after he'd discovered Draco disappearing into the Room of Hidden Things.

Dumbledore said nothing at first. Echoed Harry's sigh.

"May I take your memory of this afternoon's events?" Dumbledore asked eventually. "It won't hurt, and you will keep your recollection of events—but I will be able to experience everything you saw for myself."

"I, er…" Harry said. He hadn't really been expecting that. "I suppose."

Dumbledore took out his wand – a long, knotted thing – and placed it at Harry's temple.

"Think of this afternoon's events," Dumbledore said, "and I shall extract the memory."

As if Harry could think of anything but that afternoon's events. That, at least, was an easy task, something he could literally do in his sleep… at least if Madam Pomfrey hadn't dosed him with Dreamless Sleep potions.

Dumbledore drew his wand away and a thick, silvery liquid came along with it. Dumbledore took a glass vial from his robes and filled it with the viscous mercury-like fluid that was apparently Harry's memory. He stoppered the vial and placed it back inside his robes.

"And now, of course," Dumbledore said eventually, "we must decide what to do next."

"Can we go after Lucius Malfoy for any of this, Professor?" Harry said. "He used the Imperius on me. We've got my memories, and if we say that—"

"Perhaps," interrupted Dumbledore. "Allow me to think."

Harry fell silent. Dumbledore would come up with something. Hopefully even something that could salvage the sorry mess Harry had made of things.

"Your memory of this afternoon is unfortunately inadmissible as evidence in court," Dumbledore said eventually. "But an accusation… yes, this could be a suitable outcome. You would have to avoid any mention of Voldemort and horcruxes—failure to do so would upset long-standing plans I have set in motion—but an outline of the events in general… yes."

Memories inadmissible in court. That was… annoying. Made sense of some things about the Blood War trials that Harry had wondered about, mind, but was annoying all the same. Stupid, even.

"Why not say anything about Voldemort, Professor?"

"Three reasons," Dumbledore said. "Firstly, because Lucius will argue that the accusation is based on the crime for which he has been tried and found innocent already, meaning it cannot be prosecuted; secondly, because I have worked tirelessly to persuade certain elements at the Ministry that the threat of Voldemort remains and I have thus far been unsuccessful; and thirdly, because drawing attention to Voldemort at this moment in time would cause him to hide somewhere else, somewhere we are not aware of, and this is something we should want to avoid."

It didn't sit right with Harry not to mention Voldemort, but Dumbledore surely understood the workings of the Ministry and the wizards' legal system better than Harry did. Even so…

"Alright," Harry said. "So what should I say? Just that Lucius tried using the Imperius Curse on me, made me take him to where Draco is, and then… what, exactly? If I can't say about Voldemort or the horcrux…"

"Recount your tale of events as you have to me tonight, only without reference to Voldemort," Dumbledore said. "Mention the Diadem, but merely as a Dark artefact; speak of Draco and his task, but without reference to Voldemort. Specifically, I believe that…" continued Dumbledore. He explained to Harry exactly what he should say to the aurors when they asked. It wasn't an overly complicated tale that Harry would have to spin and didn't even contain any lies per se; lies of omission but nothing spun from the aether. Still, the idea the whole affair could go to trial made for an uncomfortable thought.

"Are you sure about this, Professor?" Harry asked.

"No," said Dumbledore. "But we are where we are. The revelation that Voldemort has created a horcrux—and that that horcrux now resides inside Lucius Malfoy in some sort of possession—that there has been a cabal of Death Eaters working with the disembodied shade of Voldemort since the events of last year... these events are unprecedented. I wish for you to understand this—I have not encountered such a thing before, in all of my research, my reading, my not inconsiderable experience…"

Dumbledore sighed. He waved a hand, dismissed the thought.

"And we cannot allow Lucius—or Voldemort—to act with impunity. No, it is the right thing for you press charges against Lucius and Draco. Or, rather, for Hogwarts School to do so—we have a fund for just such a circumstance."

"I don't need that, Professor, I've got the money—"

"Nonsense," said Dumbledore. "Lucius Malfoy may have a seat on the Board of Governors of this school, Harry, but he is not free to act as he sees fit within it. The assault of a student—among other things—is precisely the sort of reason for the school's funds to be used."

"I suppose," Harry said. It still felt wrong, taking money from the school when Harry had a vault full of gold, but… if that was what the fund was for… "But apart from all that," Harry said, "what are we going to do about Voldemort? If there are… I mean, if there's one at Malfoy Manor—the old one—and now there's a new one in Lucius Malfoy's head—what does that—does it mean that—"

"I cannot say," Dumbledore said. "Truly, I do not think that the situation we are in has ever occurred before, not once in history. If it has, I have not encountered information regarding it—and I have scoured every archive to which I have access."

Harry closed his eyes. He'd been afraid of something like that. If even Dumbledore didn't know what was ahead of them, things were bad. Silence filled the Hospital Wing.

"Do you understand what we must do, Harry?" Dumbledore said eventually. "Are you prepared?"

"Yes, Professor. I'm ready for it. And… it's all my fault, all this, anyway—isn't it?" Harry said. He shrugged. "I should have—but I didn't—and now…"

"No more of this, Harry," Dumbledore said. "What's done is done. Do better next time. In truth, I have played a part in this. I shall take a more… active… role in your education moving forward. And know this—I have gathered allies of my own. You are not alone. The events of today have accelerated matters. I will say more when you are ready. For now, think on what we have discussed—and consider what, exactly, you wish to tell your aunt and uncle. That decision I leave to you."

Harry nodded. Took a big, deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Alright."

Everything had gone to shit, but somehow Dumbledore had managed to craft something to salvage things. Maybe not totally, and there would be rumours and stories in the press and everything else, but Dumbledore offered a path through the darkness. A clear port in the storm that was about to unfold.

Dumbledore left the Hospital Wing in a swirl of robes, the stars and moons on them twinkling with dim light as he went. Not long after he'd gone Petunia came back in, and Madam Pomfrey came around with another round of potions.

Harry slept again after that.

When Harry woke again it was well after lunch on the next day. This time both his aunt and uncle were sat at the side of his bed, along with Sirius, still Polyjuiced into Dudley. Or Polyjuiced into him again, since Harry assumed he hadn't spent every moment of the past few days as his cousin.

"You're awake!" said Petunia. "Vernon, he's awake," she said, turning to Harry's uncle.

"I can see that, Pet," Vernon said.

"I feel much better now," Harry said. "Ready to go, really." He sat up in the hospital bed and tentatively poked around at his chest. It felt sore, still, but he checked under the hospital gown and found only a thin scar, so didn't think it was too bad. The scar would take some getting used to, but Harry had a much more visible – and much more famous – scar already.

"Poppy said you can leave tomorrow morning," Petunia said. "I didn't understand all of what she said, but the injury was harder to fix than she'd thought it would be."

Harry glanced over at Sirius.

"Minor curse," he supplied. "Nothing too bad, but... needed a special treatment, she said."

"Right," muttered Harry. That would be another cursed scar, then, although the new one would be less visible. Harry leaned back. "I've missed the flying, haven't I?" Harry asked. The marathon finals were that day. Had already happened, given the late hour.

"Someone did mention that," Vernon said.

Harry sighed. That made two events he'd forfeited due to his own actions the previous day.

"Brilliant," Harry said, although it really was the least of his problems. Still, it felt like just the right amount of bad news to underline everything else, so Harry supposed at least his life had some consistency to it.

"I had some words with your headmaster last night," Petunia said. "He wouldn't say... well. He told me you would have something to say to us when you woke up?"

"I—er—yeah," Harry said. Dumbledore had allowed Harry to choose what to say, how much to tell. But Harry didn't feel much like lying, at least not with his aunt and uncle having been at Hogwarts over the past few days. It felt like a betrayal, almost. Harry glanced around to check where Madam Pomfrey was – although he assumed she knew far more than people thought and was just the very definition of professional discretion – and then tried to figure out exactly what he would say.

"So, I wasn't totally honest with you last year," Harry said to start with. "The stuff that happened with Professor Quirrell did happen, but... er... it was because he was possessed by Voldemort. You know, the Dark wizard who killed my parents."

"But he's dead," Petunia said, her face gone white. "They promised he was dead."

"He did die," Harry said. "He just didn't stay dead. He did, um, there's this thing really evil Dark wizards can do—it's complicated, so I don't really want to... but Voldemort did it. So he's sort of half-alive, right? He got away at the end of last year. Then this year I noticed some weird things were happening, and... well, I thought it was to do with Voldemort. So I went looking for proof, and I couldn't find any. But I did figure out that Draco—he's in my dorm, classes, I was meant to duel him yesterday—was up to something. And then when he didn't turn up to the duel yesterday I went looking for him."

Harry paused.

"I found him. And he was being possessed by Voldemort, so I was right. Or, I was nearly right, since he had part of Voldemort in him—you know, that thing Dark wizards can do? And that's why we both missed the duel yesterday. We fought. He cut me and I dropped a statue on him... and then his dad ran off with him, and the part of Voldemort inside him. When the Aurors come and question me later," Harry said, "I'm only going to say some of this. I'm just telling you so you can understand… but we are going to press charges. Or the school is, anyway; Dumbledore's handling that. But I just wanted you to know because it'll probably be in the papers. I'll have to make a statement to the aurors. The Malfoys will probably try to settle out of court. All that stuff."

Harry waited for the outburst, the angry denials or the shouting. Vernon would want to take it as far as it could go – Harry, attacked while at school by a fellow student possessed by a Dark wizard? Vernon would see a viable legal option there. No need to settle out of court. Petunia would want assurances nothing of the sort could happen again. Harry knew none could be given.

None of that came. Instead Petunia started to cry, and Vernon hugged her close. Harry left them alone after that. He didn't know what to say, and he felt like they deserved a moment to get it all out. It was rather a lot to take in.

Harry looked over at Sirius.

"Dumbledore said something about what he wanted to do already," Sirius said. "Can't say I'm too happy with that—not when we know where Wormtail is, what he's up to—but it does make sense. It's too early to kick up a fuss and if we do, they might just go into hiding again. Then we've lost everything. But I still don't like it."

"You were right when you said I should have gone to Dumbledore," Harry said. "I should have listened. Maybe if I had..."

"Yeah, maybe," Sirius said. He shrugged. "It doesn't matter now, does it? Possession like that usually doesn't end well for the host, so at least Lucius Malfoy will get his comeuppance."

"We'll move to Australia," declared Petunia suddenly. "Vernon, Grunnings still has an overseas office there, doesn't it? You can transfer. The visas will be easy with your job, so we don't need to worry about any of that..."

"Aunt Petunia, I don't think—" Harry said, but Petunia ignored him.

"We'll have to start getting ready right away. We can put the house up for sale—I'm sure we can get a good price for it. We've just had the living room done, haven't we, so—"

"I don't want to leave," Harry said, more forcefully this time. "Please. We have to make it so that everything looks normal. If we do anything strange it... we have to keep up appearances. It's important. I want you to understand—I know it's dangerous here, but it will be more dangerous overseas. There's a—it's complicated, but—the house has a magical protection around it," Harry said. "And the Ministry here is obligated to—and Dumbledore lives here as well, so..."

"Dumbledore? Your headmaster? He's just a teacher," said Vernon.

"He's not just a teacher," Harry said. "He's—it's complicated. He's a really powerful wizard, a kind of international politician, he's part of the government here, too... But we're all safer here. We really are. I know it doesn't sound like it. But I need to stay at Hogwarts. If we go somewhere else it'll be much easier for Voldemort to send people after us. I promise it will."

"Dumbledore's reforming something that should keep you and your family safe," Sirius said to Vernon and Petunia. "He said as much to me last night, after he spoke with Harry."

"I don't like it," Vernon said. "First, the boy's attacked by a teacher at school. That was bad enough. Then this year, it happens again, but by another student? And his father? What sort of an institution is this?"

"This year it was all my fault," Harry said. "I went looking for trouble. I shouldn't have... well, it doesn't matter now, does it? But this is what we have to do. I believe Dumbledore when he says this is the best way. Lucius Malfoy—Draco's dad—is well connected at the Ministry. We've got to do this the right way."

"It's children fighting in wars all over again," said Petunia quietly. She sniffed. "First your parents. Now you. You don't have to do this, Harry. You know that, don't you?"

"I do, though, Aunt Petunia. Voldemort won't ever leave me alone. And I won't leave everyone behind to face him for me. I can't. I just... can't. Won't. Please understand."

Petunia said nothing. After a few moments she stood up.

"Poppy wanted to know when you woke up," she said, and left Harry with Vernon and Sirius.

Not long after that, the Aurors came in escorted by Professor Moody, and Harry had to give yet another recounting of his tale to them – this time the heavily revised version suggested by Dumbledore. They took it well enough, and nothing in their response told Harry he'd contradicted anything they'd been told by Lucius and Draco, assuming they'd managed to get a statement. Nobody had said anything to Harry, at any rate.

Petunia and Vernon sat next to Harry as he told his story in a grim silence, neither of them happy, but neither of them prepared to create a scene or court a scandal by contradicting him. Harry knew his insistence that everything look as normal as possible would win them over in the end. They would hate it, think for every moment they were doing the wrong thing because it went against their instincts, the behaviours they had learned through long years in the muggle world ... but they wouldn't dare step out of line. If there was one thing Vernon and Petunia Dursley hated, it was looking anything other than perfectly ordinary and normal.

"Thank you for your statement, Potter," the lead Auror said when Harry had finished. "We'll be in touch if we need anything else." They left along with Moody.

"Your headmaster," Petunia began once it was just them and Sirius left in the Hospital Wing, "said that if you wanted, you could come home early from school. Once Poppy says you're free to go."

Harry shook his head.

"No. I want to stay for the Closing Ceremony," he said. He could have done without the eyes on him, without the press, the whispers, and everything else ... but he did also want to be recognised for his hard-won achievements over the year. He'd royally stuffed it up at the end, but he had still won some events and placed in the top three for others, and that was something. Besides, it would look strange for him to be absent. Fuel for the rumour mills, and as there was already heaps and heaps of that, Harry didn't particularly want to create more. "You can go home if you don't want to watch, though. I bet the press will be all over it..."

"Nonsense," said Vernon. "We'll stay for the end of the Ceremony and then take one of those teleportation thingies home. Isn't that right, Pet? We've got to get Dud—er, we have some things to take care of back home anyway." Vernon glanced around quickly at his mention of Dudley, although Sirius wasn't present. Harry thought he was with Dumbledore planning something, although he wasn't sure. The Aurors hadn't been overly interested in Harry's muggle cousin anyway – they had barely acknowledged Petunia and Vernon, and they were his legal guardians.

"Of course," said Petunia. "We wouldn't want to miss it."

That night Petunia, Vernon, and Sirius all went back to Hogsmeade, leaving Harry alone in the Hospital Wing. Well, alone with Madam Pomfrey and her seemingly endless supply of foul-tasting potions and salves. Fortunately he didn't have to endure all that much as Madam Pomfrey slipped him a Dreamless Sleep Potion just after dinner.