Disclaimer: See chapter one, already. My fingers are seizing up from writing all these disclaimers…

On the home straight now!

ooOOoo

Chapter 79

Harry and Draco had some fine points to work out. For instance, what was the best way to make sure at least one of them escaped to warn Hogsmeade should they be captured? They agreed it was probably better to try getting back to Hogwarts rather than staying in Hogsmeade – they didn't want the Death Eaters getting their hands on the latest barrier-breaking technology, i.e. Simon and the silver shoes.

After storing the saddle, bridle and halter in the barn ready for tonight (they stored the tack along with the brushes in a special box to stop rats or Simon from chewing on it), they sat down by the water trough to argue those points out.

They both agreed that the first thing to do was ring that bell Tonks would have set up by the gate. It was vital Hogsmeade be alerted – even if Voldemort escaped, they wouldn't have paid for it with the lives of everyone in the village. And Draco had an answer for being caught by the Death Eaters, of course. "Tell you what, if we run into any Death Eaters, I'll tell them you've got me under the Imperius."

Harry wiped his mouth. He'd bought some chocolate frogs off Draco by promising three-for-one as soon as he got down to Hogsmeade for shopping purposes (rather than saving-the-world purposes) and they made him feel a little more human, especially when he bit their heads off and their back legs kicked in a credible simulation of agony (not a tendency Harry wanted to go into right now – he had enough to worry about). So far he'd eaten far too many and he was probably going to bankrupt himself paying Malfoy back. Then again, dead people didn't have to pay back debts. Probably. Hard to tell, given the Wizarding world's propensity for twisting common-sense laws of man as well as nature. He wouldn't bet against the Malfoy library having a whole section on collecting on debt through necromancy. Not only was it dangerous that he'd indebted himself to Malfoy, but the mention of Imperius combined with the chocolate churning in his stomach. He turned his mind from the memory of Dumbledore casting Imperio on Simon literally by turning his head to look through the bars of the fence to where Simon was grazing.

The horse had followed them to the trough. Simon liked having company (providing it was of the right sort, of course, and fortunately Harry and Draco fell into that category), and ignored the longer, lusher grass further along the hillside in favour of staying close to the boys. Harry tried to tell himself that it was simple friendliness rather than some disquieting after-effect of the Imperius curse still drifting through the horse's brain. But the awful image of Simon standing with his head lowered in spell-induced obedience chilled Harry from the inside out. There was something… sick… about seeing anyone, even an animal, stripped of their will. Simon had obeyed Dumbledore and carried the two older wizards wherever Dumbledore had directed him, but it had been clear that Simon's reflexes were impaired. He'd stumbled and almost fallen once. If he fell in the barrier the three would be doomed.

Dumbledore had removed the curse as soon as he dismounted. Simon had been very quiet in its aftermath. Smaller, somehow: the entire world of the horse seemed to have disappeared into the eclipse of his dark eyes, and when Harry took the leadrope Simon followed like an Inferius. Even Sirius had been visibly disturbed at the sight, although he'd changed back into Snuffles and gone loping off towards the castle as soon as Dumbledore asked Harry and Draco to take Simon back to the paddock.

Harry hadn't bothered being glad to see his godfather go. He'd been too busy hating himself for bringing Simon back to have his mind turned inside out. So much for Harry's promise not to let anyone hurt the horse. He bit into another chocolate frog, not caring about the cost.

"Hang on a tick." He gave Draco a hard stare. "Why don't I tell them you've got me under the Imperious?"

Draco, who'd been looking askance at the frogs disappearing at a frightening rate into Harry's mouth, said, "Less impact. And they're more likely to let me live if we get caught. They'll kill you either way."

"Thank you. That's very…"

"Warm? Cuddly? Nice? Wake up and smell the night-blooming pusweed, Potter. We're not on a happy little holiday junket here – one of us needs to tell the others back at Hogwarts what went wrong if we fail."

Harry – grudgingly – admitted Malfoy had a point.

"Hmm," said Draco as Harry unwrapped another chocolate frog. "In your will can you make sure whoever you bequeath your assets to makes sure I get my frog repayment?"

"Sure thing," Harry said, silently deciding to write up a will simply for the pleasure of bequeathing Draco a single Galleon and the order to go repay himself.

The benefits of death.

A shadow fell over him.

It was only Simon, come to drink. He lifted his head from the water and put it over the fence.

Harry's relief that Simon was showing some signs of his old curiosity coming back was immediately lost as the horse dribbled on him.

"Ugh!"

Draco had already moved out of slobber-range, and was laughing.

Simon gave Harry an affronted look. Obviously it was Harry who was at fault for making a fuss over a little water.

Harry brushed the water off his shoulder and face. "I suppose that's revenge for today."

"You think he needs revenge?" Draco was picking grass. Simon had enough on his side of the fence, but for some reason the horse preferred it picked for him. Perhaps it was the old grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side-of-the-fence philosophy, but Harry considered it symptomatic of Simon's love of being waited on hand and f-… hoof and hoof. He sighed and set to pulling up handfulls himself.

"I brought him back and let Dumbledore put the curse on him. How would you feel about it if you were him?"

Draco gave him an ironic look. "I'd feel shocked the first time, then be ready for it the next."

That sounded like the voice of experience. As per usual, Harry knew better than to ask. If Draco wanted to tell him what went on in those long winter evenings at Malfoy Manor when entertainment ran dry, Draco would tell him.

Simon leaned over the fence, greedily snatching at the grass Draco was holding out for him.

"Don't tease him," Harry warned.

"I'm not. I just want him to stay a little longer," Draco said, stepping up to pat Simon's neck. "There we go." He gave Harry a frown. "I wasn't trying to be mean to him. Stop stereotyping me. Besides, you're the one who was having fun making those frogs writhe."

"They're inanimate and I wasn't stereotyping you. I just thought that there was a chance Simon might mistake you wanting to coax him forward with you wanting to piss him off. He's a bit…"

"Oh. Okay." Draco looked slightly alarmed. "I wouldn't want to do that." He scratched his fingers through Simon's mane. Simon scratched his head against the Slytherin's shoulder. "Ouch," said Draco. "But I don't think he's annoyed with me."

Harry chuckled. He had a good armful of grass now, so went to try and make amends with Simon. He also had his last, best secret weapon to win back Simon's good graces: a peppermint in his pocket.

Simon was ready to make amends. While there was something lingering in the darkness of his eyes that worried Harry, he seemed to be relaxing again. The Imperius had left him diminished in some subtle way but the attention he was getting from Harry and Draco was drawing him back from that terrible space the curse had sent him.

They stayed up with him for another hour. They both had lessons. Neither of them mentioned them. No-one came from the castle to scold them about it.

Birds sang.

Clouds shifted.

Simon lay down and went to sleep, snoring softly.

Without words, Harry and Draco went and sat with their backs against Simon's. The horse woke up briefly to peer over his shoulder and make sure it really was Harry and Draco.

Harry patted Simon on the rump. "Go to sleep, Simon."

Simon did so.

Harry smiled with one side of his mouth. For some reason the other side didn't feel like smiling. Probably because there were still things he needed to talk about with Draco.

He stared up at the sky. It was blue, but there were clouds building over to the north west. "Which tree do you want to do?"

ooOOoo

They wandered back in a more mellow mood. Draco wanted to know Harry's thoughts on centaurs and goblins.

"…I mean, at one end of the spectrum, you've got the Pureblood theory that Muggle-borns shouldn't be allowed within sight of Hogwarts."

"Hmm." Harry decided it best not to comment further on that.

"… But when was the last time a centaur or a goblin was enrolled at Hogwarts. I'll tell you: never. And the only house elves allowed in the place are those who work here."

Harry wrinkled his nose. He'd met goblins in Gringotts and not come out the sunnier towards them for it. "Are you saying we should open the doors to goblins?"

"Well, we've opened them to Muggle-borns."

Harry rounded on the Slytherin. "Yeah, but Muggle-borns are still wizards and witches!"

"And goblins and centaurs aren't?" Draco smirked in that way that really got under Harry's skin. "You know, I've been fed Pureblood mania since the cradle. What's your excuse for bigotry?"

"I'm not being a – … I am being a bigot, I guess."

"Well, it takes time for one to break the conditioning of one's youth," Draco replied, airily and apparently with complete sincerity.

Harry rolled his eyes. He always enjoyed being patronised by Malfoys so much… And since when was Draco the moral majority? "You don't think you can push that too far, do you?"

"Well… yes. I mean, there's equal rights, and then there's just being silly with it. Do you think we should let trolls into Hogwarts?"

"That was tried in our first year. Remember? My wand's still recovering from the troll bogies." Harry sighed. "If that was a serious question I think the conditioning of your youth wasn't so much broken as shattered. And some of the sharp pieces have given you brain damage."

Draco sniffed. 'It was just an idea."

"Hermione said once that ideas are dangerous."

"Only when they're put into practice."

Harry mused on this. "That mess in the Department of Mysteries last year – Ron got attacked by a brain. He said ideas can definitely be dangerous."

Draco smiled – no, that was definitely a smirk of the old school. "Do tell?"

Knowing he shouldn't, Harry did. It helped pass the walk back to the castle.

It wasn't kind to Ron to tell Draco these things, but there was a bonus: Draco surprised him by opening up and telling Harry a lot about the Death Eaters. He talked about the philosophy of Pureblood supremacy, the inferiority of Muggles and Muggle-borns, magic as its own law – these things that Voldemort had used to build up his support base. He talked about the individuals involved, about the callousness of some and the fanaticism of others. The true-believers and the hyenas. The family ties that meant that many who wouldn't follow the Dark Lord would do so just to keep loved ones out of danger – and Harry realised that the downside of having a family was that it gave your enemies potential hostages. Draco talked about the ancient laws that had been resurrected in twisted form to suit the Dark Lord's powers, like the Law of Forfeit and the Matrimonial Blood Laws and how they could be built on to consolidate power in small increments simply by passing little amendments to the laws. Twisting the screw, he described it.

(Harry realised Draco's earlier ideas of letting in centaurs and goblins was perhaps an overreaction to the conditioning he was making such a determined effort to overcome. But he respected it. Humanity as the be-all and end-all wasn't such a great philosophy, but opening the doors of Hogwarts to any and all non-humans mightn't be successful. Maybe it would, but wouldn't it be better to ask the members of other species if they really wanted to go to Hogwarts? Maybe they wanted to set up their own schools. Maybe they had their own schools already. It was mildly embarrassing that Harry didn't know this.)

It wasn't a pleasant bonus, but it was grimly useful. Harry was surprised Draco knew so much, but wasn't stupid enough to say so.

Once they hit the shadow of the castle, they walked in silence. It was very peaceful outside; all the students except Harry and Draco must have been in class. Sparrows on a low wall quarrelled, the only sign life had its combative side.

"It's not just You-know-who," Harry said in a low voice as they reached the steps up to the main doors.

"No."

"It's not just the Death Eaters."

Draco looked at him. "No."

"But stopping him and them would be a big step forward."

"Yes. Elmsworthy said something about how the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step."

Harry had heard another quote about one step. "Well, let's make our small step one giant leap."

Draco showed his teeth. "Yes."

ooOOoo

It was a bit perverse how Harry often felt better after those conversations with Draco when ideas ended up getting tangled, but he was able to ignore the stares from those Gryffindors he passed in the Entrance Hall who still held a grudge against him for not vanquishing Voldemort twenty years ago (and thus, as Elmsworthy had sneeringly pointed out in an attempt to demonstrate the low intelligence of humanity in general and Gryffindors in particular, fuck up Causality).

"See you in half an hour?"

"Sure." Draco headed off down to the Dungeons, off to see any potential voters.

Harry had promised to go up to see Dumbledore as soon as they got back to the castle. He trotted up the steps, which decided to oblige today, and swung around to leave him in the corridor he was wanting. He strode along the corridor, nodding to two girls he recognised from the DA last year. They didn't glare at him; in fact they smiled as if they were pleased to see him. For some reason this depressed Harry: if he failed, would they suffer for it?

He spoke the password and climbed up to Dumbledore's office.

"Sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes were a touch red – not in the way Voldemort's were, but as if the ancient wizard had been crying. Harry found the idea of that more alarming than anything else from today. Was Dumbledore readying himself for death, too?

"Harry. Come. Have a lemon drop." Dumbledore blew his nose.

Harry sat but didn't take a sweet. Before today he'd have sworn on his parents' graves that Dumbledore would never try to feed him Veritaserum, but he'd just seen the hero of the wizarding world use an Unforgivable curse. That left him more than a little leery. "Are you all right, sir?"

"Oh, a slight allergy, I suspect. It's terrible, the pollen from some of the plants growing in the Forest."

Harry nodded. He didn't have anything to add that wouldn't have sounded any less suspicious than what Dumbledore had said. "About tonight. Would you like help in tacking up Simon before you go?"

Dumbledore smiled. "'Tacking up'. Odd phrase. One would think our dear Simon was being attached to a wall."

Harry tried to smile, but the analogy was too appropriate.

"Yes, Harry. If you wouldn't mind, it would be helpful to have you there."

"What about Draco?"

"I shouldn't like to have him up so late. He has an election to arrange – er, win tomorrow."

"I would have said rig," Harry admitted. "But I think he's trying to see how being honest works for him. You're going to go late?"

"The attack is meant to occur at around four-thirty in the morning. As the time difference comprises some four and a half hours where Hogsmeade is ahead of us, Professor Flitwick and I decided that the best time would be to leave at half past eleven. We are taking into account the Death Eaters' preoccupation with Hogsmeade defences. They shouldn't be expecting anyone coming from Hogwarts."

"Why not go earlier? Wouldn't it make more sense to go earlier, to reconnoitre?"

"It would. Unfortunately Tom has an ability to sense where I am."

This was the first time Harry had heard of this. He frowned. "How do you mean?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "It's a long story. But think back to my arrival at the Ministry of Magic last year: do you remember how Tom was less than shocked to see me?"

Harry had been a little preoccupied himself, what with all the dodging, dipping, ducking, diving and more dodging around the MoM, particularly behind the statue in the foyer and the inner humiliation of knowing he'd been played for a fool by Voldemort and the sheer terror of having his friends in mortal danger (it had been months before he'd stopped seeing Hermione fall with a line of red opening across her chest every night as he closed his eyes and tried to get some sleep). However… there had been something. He strained his memory. Voldemort had turned to face Dumbledore and unless he'd had eyes in the back of his head (shades of Quirrel) there was no way he could have known the old wizard was standing behind him. "Vaguely."

Dumbledore was nodding. "You understand, then. It must be quick. Surgical, as the Muggles say."

Harry could feel his blood pressure rising again. "So shall I get Simon and meet you by the gates? Eleven o'clock?"

Dumbledore sighed. "If you would."

Harry nodded again and avoided direct eye contact as he left the room. He was a rubbish Occlumens and if Dumbledore had any idea what he was thinking right now Harry would be lucky to make it out of Gryffindor Tower. The hairs up the back of his neck prickled as he left. Those blue eyes seemed to be boring into him. He was glad to hurry towards where he'd arranged to meet his friends.

Now all they needed to do was to stay unnoticed…

How hard could that be?

ooOOoo

Someone was drumming their fingers on the table. Rat-tat-tat-tat. Rat-tat-tat-tat.

The rhythm sounded familiar, like the feet of something going very fast.

Harry stared down at the polished wood, trying to remember what made that sound when it went fast. He had the feeling it was important to know this. But the noise was starting to irritate him.

The drumming stopped. That was good. Or was it? Perhaps he'd lost something when it stopped.

Harry had the feeling he'd lost a great deal.

Like purpose.

There was a window. He looked outside and saw that the sky was growing dark.

Why did that bother him? Was it important?

He bent his head and pressed his hands against his eyes, trying to remember.

ooOOoo