The Second Chance
DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Harry Potter. This story is inspired by Kurinoone's awesome amazing story 'The Darkness Within', which was inspired by Project Dark Overlord's wonderful fic- 'A Shattered Prophesy'.
I deeply, humbly apologise for the long wait! As for the progress of this story, you can read up a small paragraph on my profile page to see where this is going.
Thank you So, so soo much to my much appreciated loyal readers and reviewers: coolchickdiv (thanks for the double review! I'll seriously think about the suggestion :), Nightcrawlerfw, Oirasse, Jessica, Harry fanfic, 2 Guests ( :D), Ash-Bookworm113, kitty, v1cky84, mikey1048, LadyGriffin17, Kurinoone, Kimco96, TSRowenwood, Sushi, TomRiddle4ever, Priyanish Potter, The Ebony Alchemist, 12, and G. This chapter is dedicated to you. :D
Chapter 20: Fitting Keys
Harry glanced back sharply, his eyes darting between the shadows of the trees where the Forbidden Forest lay, but there was no sign of anyone around, only the cold autumn wind blowing sharply. But he had no doubt regarding the voice he had heard; there was only one other person who could speak in Parseltongue besides him.
Deciding to ignore the voice for the moment, Harry made to move forwards towards Damien Potter, who was gasping weakly on the ground, front covered in blood... yet the voice hissed again, somehow nearer and more forceful-, "Harry."
His scar was flaming up with pain again. He stopped a metre away from the youngest Potter, who was struggling to breathe, splattering blood on the ground before them. "Why did you come?" Harry hissed back, though he did not turn around. "Where are you now?"
"We are returning now," the voice replied, still speaking in snake language. Harry's eyes once again snapped to the Forbidden forest, but Voldemort was not there, neither were any of his Death- Eaters.
"If it disturbs your conscience this much, heal the boy then leave," he heard his father's voice in his head again. For a moment Harry stepped forwards as though to do just that, before his eyes suddenly hardened with steel. He took a decisive step forwards, he felt a slight flicker of pain in his scar, a small twinge. His heart pounded furiously as he approached the younger boy.
The youngest Potter's eyes were still open, though Harry suspected, unseeingly.
"May we never meet again," Harry said softly, before he raised his wand.
A jet of red light thundered out of his wand, hitting Damien straight on his uninjured arm. The youngest Potter gasped, as though disbelieving, then fell back, his eyes still wide, wearing an expression that, for the life of him, Harry could never forget. Harry's scar flared up once more in bitter agony, before it numbed into a dull throb.
"It's what the Potters deserve," Harry hissed in response to Voldemort's unasked question, then he stalked round the youngest Potter's body and strode towards the magical barrier.
He stretched out his arm before him, his fingers touching the barrier, before focusing on drawing his magic, the raw power he had unintentionally gained ever since he was but a child. It came to him easily, his eyes turning into a dark, harsh black as he allowed the magic to flow from his outstretched hands, cold wind still buffeting him, yet it was not caused by the weather. For a moment, nothing happened; then a great blast of energy left his fingers and connected with the blood shield.
The shield turned a fiery red, flaring up before him as though it were a wall of fire, but Harry pushed onwards, his eyes still a dark, merciless black. Slowly it began to crack, and Harry pushed home his advantage. He drove all the power he had into the seam in the magical barrier, then barrelled forwards. There was a blinding flash of light which illuminated the evening sky, then Harry was gone.
xXx
Beyond the wards, Harry stumbled outside the shield, all magic drained from his body. His knees sank to the ground much against his will, he felt nauseous- it felt almost worst than when his scar had been hurting him in the library.
He felt a familiar presence come to a halt before him; he knew it was his father. "Harry?" Voldemort questioned, long fingers lifting his chin. His eyes met ruby red ones, and he felt his scar give another painful throb.
The world was collasping rapidly around him with a haze of colour. With the last breath he could muster, he asked, "Why did you come?"
Voldemort ignored his question completely. "The barrier is stripping you of all magic," he murmured, studying his son's face intently. "I asked if you were certain, Harry... yet it happened anyway."
"My records proved it wouldn't happen," said Harry through clenched teeth, though staying awake felt like a difficult feat even for him. "Father... why did- you come?"
He didn't think that Voldemort gave him an answer, but even if he had, Harry was not awake to hear it. He slumped forwards onto the forest floor, his world blackening out completely.
The last thing he saw was the Hogwarts doors bursting open, and Dumbledore rushing out of the castle, accompanied by Snape and Professor Wynter.
Dumbledore had been trying to locate the two missing students from Gryffindor using his magic, until he suddenly felt a lasting spasm of pain in his heart. Glancing across the room, he noticed that Minerva's face was too, pale and taut, as though hiding pain.
"The barriers," he told her, "Someone is weakening the barriers."
He closed his eyes, using his magic to strengthen the blood wards surrounding Hogwarts once more, but the force attacking it was vicious and unrelenting. Raw power, purely dark magic, was pushing forwards with full strength, and the more Dumbledore casted his spells on the barrier, the weaker he became. He had tied much of the barrier's magic to his own, after all, instead of Damien and Ron's, as they were only students. It was his responsibilty to protect them.
Then there was the sound of a loud crashing noise coming from upstairs.
Professor Wynter immediately offered to check, and he returned within a few seconds, to tell Dumbledore that Potter and Mason were heading towards the edge of the barriers.
He'd immediately hastened towards the great doors, rushing out into the open, closely followed by Professor Wynter and Severus by his side, but Dumbledore could see it was already too late. The barriers had resealed themselves once more, though it was considerably weaker than before- it still held its purpose. And Damien... the youngest Potter was lying on the ground, bruised and bloody, unmoving.
Dumbledore cast one last look at the edge of the Forbidden forest, half- expecting to see Mason's unconscious form lying on the other side of the blood wards, but there was no sign of him anywhere. Nor were there any signs of the Death Eaters.
He quickly approached the injured boy. He recognized the Petrifying jinx that was cast on Potter and immediately lifted it with a flick of his wand. Almost immediately, Damien's eyelids fluttered, and he was struggling to sit up, his breath coming in alarming short rasps.
"Damien, what happened to you? Who did this?" the Headmaster questioned urgently, trying to grasp the last piece of the puzzle to solve the mystery.
"Don't- let- him, go," Damien half- shouted, though most of his words were only mouthed; his voice failed to obey him. "He- must not...go..."
"Who are you talking about, Damien?" Dumbledore asked, fighting the cold chill that threatened to still over him. "What happened?"
Damien's gaze sought the edge of the barriers determinedly, as he struggled to sit up, the desperation on his face painful to watch. Then all the eagerness and hope drained out of his face, leaving him bloody and broken, a sense of bitter frustration welling up in him, so much that it hurt him, badly. "He's gone," he said numbly, almost like a sob. "He's left again."
It sounded somewhat like a petulant pout, if not for the pain gnawing at his heart, which Dumbledore did not seem to understand, for he gazed emotionlessly at Damien, his blue eyes searching.
"It's too late now," Dumbledore said at last, voice grave. "Come now, Damien... we must get you to the Hospital Wing first."
"It's not fair," Damien murmured faintly, but the rest of his words were incoherent. Dumbledore watched, deep in thought, as Damien was sent to the Hospital Ward, his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger accompanying him, looking worried.
And he hadn't even told the boy, his father was still held captive by Voldemort...
Dumbledore turned to Severus, who was watching him intently, wondering about his next move. "Scout the area," Dumbledore told him and Professor Wynter. "If Kit Mason has indeed broken out of the barriers as I suspect, he ought to be lying on the other side of the blood wards, unless someone else has taken him away."
Snape's eyes narrowed. "Why are you so certain?" he asked, before leaving with Professor Wynter, who was already ahead of them both.
Dumbledore's tone was grave. "If Mason has indeed broken through the barriers, he has done it at a very heavy cost... I fear, Severus, that he might not have made it."
"How is he?" Hermione asked softly as Madam Pomfrey cast a last healing spell over the patient's body, while Ron finished with the bandage on Damien's left elbow, which also happened to be fractured.
"His injuries are all physical, so he ought to be fine by tomorrow... he has not lost any bones, so Skele- Gro won't be necessary, thank goodness," Madam Pomfrey said reassuringly, though there was a slight frown on her face as she continued to add a seemingly tiny and harmless detail, which would bring endless annoyance and frustration to Damien in the next few days. "His skull was hit pretty hard, though- he had a mild concussion, which I have already fixed... but the brain's a delicate thing. Possibly over the few days he might develop a few delusions, post- traumatic disorder or simple paranoia, maybe nothing at all... but it's still a possibility."
Hermione nodded, looking slightly relieved, but not at all reassured by the latter.
"Those only last a week at the most, Hermione, don't worry," Ron seemed to read her thoughts and spoke up. Though judging by the look on his face, Ron did not seem very certain either.
The Gryffindor bushy haired girl merely sighed. "I hope he gets better soon. Professor Dumbledore has got a lot of questions for him... I wonder what happened?"
Ron stood up, yawning. "By the state of his injuries, he'll probably sleep through the night like a log... he'll be stiff and sore but awake tomorrow morning, though. We'll come down here then."
Madam Pomfrey nodded in approval. "Off you go then," she told them, bustling the visitors out of the Hospital Wing. "Goodness knows its almost an hour past curfew, and you don't want to get caught roaming in corridors past bed time."
"Do you know if the students are still in the Great Hall, Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione asked before they left.
She nodded distractedly in response. "Yes, you're spending the night there," she replied.
Ron and Hermione thanked her and left, walking down the corridor together, deep in thought. Presently, Hermione asked, "What did Damien mean about the Marauder's Map, Ron? Wasn't it confiscated by Filch?"
The redhead looked just about as confused as she was, not to mention extremely sleepy and tired. "I seriously don't know," he said, before suddenly stopping short. "Kit. Where's Kit?"
"Damien went off to find him," Hermione murmured, forgotten anxiety suddenly growing. "We found Damy only... and Madam Pomfrey suspects the Damy fractured his knee cap when jumping out of the Hospital Wing window. We heard the noise, remember?"
"But why would Damy do such a thing?" Ron asked, frustrated. "No one ever tells us a single thing. Just one whisper from Professor Wynter and all the staff are rushing out of the hall, then we find Damy injured and alone in the field. It doesn't make sense."
Just then, their conversation was suspended for the moment as they had both reached the Great Hall. The entire hall was submerged in darkness, with nothing but the faint moonlight filtering in through the floor- to ceiling windows and the magnificent stars overhead as a source to brighten the room. Cautiously, so as not to step on another fellow student, Hermione and Ron made their way over to the two empty sleeping bags in Gryffindor and snuggled in.
They had just managed to squeeze their eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when they heard the click of heels on marble, unmistakable for anyone else's except for Professor McGonagall. The noises of footsteps paused somewhere to their immediate left, among the mass of sleeping students, and Hermione heard their Transfiguration professor converse with someone else in a quiet voice, "The Death- Eaters have already retreated. There is no longer any sign of them."
Through the crack of her eyelids, Hermione saw Dumbledore's figure nod slightly. "Good, good. The castle shall return to our normal activities tomorrow morning."
"But-" Professor McGonagall seemed to protest, but Dumbledore's voice was suddenly firm and brooked no room for argument.
"There is no cause to alarm the students, Minerva," he said, sharply. At this, the pair fell silent, and their echoing footsteps resumed.
Hermione counted to ten slowly before slowly opening her eyes. Ron was already fast asleep by then, his breathing deep and rhythmic, so there was no discussing this development of things with him.
If the Death Eaters had indeed retreated, she thought, there should be more cause to worry- for their retreating only meant one thing, that was they had already got what they wanted.
And Kit Mason was the only student missing from Hogwarts.
xXx
After the long, tiring hours of the night in which Hermione found herself unable to sleep, she was extremely relieved to see the faint rays of sunlight beginning to filter in through the windows of the Great Hall. She watched as the sun slowly rose above the horizon, its rays beautiful and golden, until it was too bright, then she turned away. Around her, students were also beginning to stir; the bright light made it almost impossible for them to resume their dreams.
She turned around and glanced at Ron's still sleeping figure, and sighed. Well, he would just continue to sleep.
Ginny was among the few early risers as well. She approached Hermione with her quilt wrapped tightly around herself to protect her from the morning chill. "Good morning," she greeted her friend with a smile. "I take it you didn't sleep much?"
"No," admitted Hermione tiredly. "Couldn't sleep."
"How's Damy?" Ginny asked, spotting on Hermione's thoughts almost at once. "I heard that he was injured yesterday, but it was nothing serious..."
"Nothing serious?" Hermione said incredulously. "He broke a rib, fractured another, got a head concussion, an elbow and kneecap fracture."
Ginny's eyes widened. "What?"
"I don't know much else besides that... and Kit still remains missing," Hermione said worriedly. "Dumbledore's going to ask him questions later."
"D'you reckon he's up yet? We could go and see him together," Ginny suggested, already springing to her feet at that thought.
"He'll probably only wake after Ron has," Hermione smiled.
xXx
An hour later found Ron, Hermione and Ginny walking down the familiar corridor to the Hospital Wing. Each of them had some snack or other smuggled from the breakfast table for Damy; Ron's sleeve was beginning to get suspiciously greasy what with the heap of bacon wrapped beneath.
To their surprise, when they were just about to enter the Hospital Wing, Professor Dumbledore came walking out, accompanied by Snape, who looked for some reason, annoyed. But Dumbledore said nothing, he merely smiled at them and continued on down the corridor, Snape looking his usual sour self. Feeling slightly suspicious, Ron pushed open the doors into the ward, taking care to be quiet.
Damien was sitting propped up against the pillows, looking pale but otherwise fine. When he saw his friends, his expression brightened considerably, and with a sudden eagerness, he quickly urged them all to sit down.
"Cast a Silencing charm," he told Ron, his hazel- eyed gaze wide.
The three visitors exchanged glances.
Damien's demeanor did nothing to calm his friends. Mentally, Ron was already groaning loudly. He supposed that was quite a concussion Damien had had, but he really didn't like the idea of entertaining a delusional Damien for one entire week, much as it might be amusing. Sometimes.
However, Ron had previously read up books on how to deal with patients suffering from delusional problems or post traumatic disorders, and the book advice that was given was for others to just humour the patient until he or she snapped out of it. So, with a long- suffering sigh, Ron did as he was told and sent a meaningful look at both Ginny and Hermione, which they did not miss.
The youngest Potter seemed to be facing conflicted emotions. He inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes for a moment, before blurting out all of a sudden, "I-I've not told anyone else about this, not even Dumbledore, because just now Snape was around and... well, that's not important. But... this is going to be a bit hard to believe."
He opened his eyes to meet three pairs of expectant gazes, encouraging him to continue, though Damien instantly felt somewhat discouraged. His friends' expressions had hidden winces in every edge of their faces, and Ron's gaze was far too knowing. Nevertheless, Damien felt the need to push on, he couldn't keep it bottled up anymore. He felt desperate, he needed someone to talk to, to confide in.
So, he took a deep breath and said in a rush, "Harry has went back to Voldemort."
In Ron's mind, he immediately began an analysis. 'Damy's brain has supplemented him with a previous image, during the last time Death- Eaters stormed in on Hogwarts, due to the trauma Damien had experienced. A totally logical explaination, which was even explained by the manual itself.' And upon arriving at that conclusion, Ron relaxed a little and felt instantly pleased with himself; he knew how to handle this.
"Oh, I see," Ron said in a calm manner, contrary to Hermione and Ginny's somewhat surprised expressions. He also couldn't resist giving them a reassuring look, 'I've got everything under control.' "What else happened, Damy?"
Damien's gaze was instantly upon him. "No you don't," he snapped, sounding extremely irritated. "Damn it Ron, contrary to what you believe, I am not delusional!"
The road of denial. Another fact from the manual.
Humour the patient, the manual had said.
"Yes, of course you're not," Ron placated in a calm tone, which only served to frustrate Damien further. "Tell me, why do you think Harry is back with Voldemort?"
"Because I saw him leave," Damien said through gritted teeth, trying to bury the annoyance burning in him."- I felt it, the Dark Lord's presence- I know it doesn't make sense either but-"
"Yes, yes, we understand, Damy," Ron continued in a 'professional' manner. "Do continue."
That was all Damien could take. With a sudden flare of his magic, his thin patience snapped. "Fine! Fine! Don't believe me! Forget all this, I'll just tell you all next week when you're finally convinced that I am not delusional. For now, you're just acting doctor and patient with me anyway, not as a friend, so nothing I say is to be taken into accountability!"
He was sick of it. With Madam Pomfrey checking and prodding at him once in a while, Snape darkly hinting at a psychological test, Dumbledore's piercing gaze and questions, while he was denied the chance of any answers, and now his friends' distrust in his sanity too. What was wrong with the world! There was nothing wrong with him!
Ron seemed taken aback at this sudden outburst. That was not in the manual, he thought.
Hermione took the chance to cut in. "It's not just that, Damy... to be fair, you took quite a knocking to your head, and well... you don't seem quite yourself. Madam Pomfrey also admitted that there's a high chance of you being a little delusional for the next week or so, but it ought to fade quickly," she added.
Damien sighed, looking suddenly very disappointed, that it squeezed her heart. "Never mind what I said then, sorry," he said, though his mouth was sitll a definite downward curve.
Ron scratched his head a little guilitily at Ginny's look, and started, "Sorry Damy, it was just... there was a possibilty that you were delusional and I was eager to test out what I learnt on an actual patient- ... and for a moment there you actually fit the- sorry."
Damien felt frustration boil over, at the same time the humor in Ron's meek admittance hit him. In the end he decided to let the topic slide from further discussion, he didn't want to upset his friends further despite his initial craving to share this new development of things. But to be honest with himself, Damien was beginning to get unsure of what was reality and what was not, after Madam Pomfrey had told him hallucinations and delusions would seem perfectly plausible to a distressed patient. And the events of yesterday were somewhat hazy-
"So what did you guys come up here for?" Damien asked instead, changing the topic.
Azkaban, Same Time
James and Sirius had been deprived of both food and drink for one entire day, and their previous meal was nothing but a measley hunk of tough bread and a bowl of suspiciously foul tasting water. Nevertheless, James forced the whole share of food down; he knew he needed strength, and the more he ate, the more he could focus on breaking out, instead of letting the Dementors eat him away bit by bit.
However, in the cell next to him, Sirius seemed a completely different matter. He did not touch the food presented to him, he rarely responded to James' remarks. For the first few days, James had kept up an incessant chatter on random topics, taking care to include many insults, both pointed and direct at Sirius just to gauge a response from his best friend, but nothing he said or did seemed to have any effect. After a while his mouth became dry so he fell silent morosely, but then Sirius had suddenly spoke up, telling him to continue talking. He said he just felt like listening, he said that James' voice could, at least, serve as a distraction.
At first James felt like protesting, he wasn't a radio- and he was running out of water!- not to mention it was no fun having conversations with oneself. But then there was something in Sirius' bitter tone that caused James' breath to freeze in his throat, he feared that his friend was really drifting away, despite his best efforts. So he kept on talking and talking, telling tales of fairytales he heard of as a child, his family tree stories, things he heard about Muggles' awesome 'technology', their Hogwarts days, the Marauders (he left out Peter), even Harry... and his whole life in general.
But today proved no different, Sirius seemed just as dejected and helpless as usual, and when pestered for plans to escape, Sirius either remained silent or smiled mirthlessly, exposing two flashes of white teeth in the darkness, which was completely creepy, but not enough to derive James of his determination to escape.
"I've just noticed something, Padfoot," James rasped, trying to keep his hoarse voice light. "Whenever I struggle, these chains burn up. If I struggle hard enough, possibly, I might get the door bars to melt... at the cost of quite a few excruciating burns."
It was the best plan James could think of given the circumstances, so naturally he felt the need of a bit of encouragement. Nevertheless, Sirius was nothing if not pessimistic.
"You're killing yourself," Sirius murmured, shaking his head slowly, the clinking sound of the chains echoing eerily around the empty cells around them.
Unbeknownst to him, James emotions were currently mirroring Damien's own at that very moment. "Stop being such a bloody pessimist!" he snapped angrily. "I came here to save you, Sirius. Maybe I failed to get you out of here, but I'm still trying, and I can't save you from your own mind!"
"Leave me, then," Sirius hissed, his voice merely a shade above whisper. "Escape while you can... leave me."
"EXCUSE ME?!" James thundered, his hoarse voice suddenly amplifying tenfold. "You know what, I didn't come to this bloody place just so I can be your radio to put you out of your misery! Guess what Sirius, you lost your wayward brother, I lost my son too! I am also miserable in this hell hole! But I don't see you at least responding to me to put me out of my miserable thoughts! You're an Auror, so am I, and we've been trained in such situations, so stop being such selfish idiot and start planning!"
Sirius remained silent, and James was inches away from howling, threatening and cursing his best friend all over again, when Sirius seemingly took a determined breath.
"Alright," he said slowly, instantly sounding more like himself than he ever had for the last few weeks. "What magic can we perform here without any wands?"
"None, just Padfoot and Prongs' transformation," James replied, feeling better now that they were actually discussing strategies.
"Any chance of you learning your son's awesome wandless transfiguration?"
James sighed. "I could. When I had sharp focus, was in perfect health condition and had my full magic at my disposal. Furthermore, the cell bars are resistant to any form of magic."
"Just a teensie weensie bit of transfiguration? On yourself," Sirius persisted.
James groaned. "I'm not a Metamorphagus! Why, who should I impersonate as? A Death- Eater so that they might free me when they next come down for a visit?!"
"No," Sirius said, and this time with a shiver of excitement, James could feel the same tiny bit of euphoria coming from his best friend too, as though they were about to pull a major prank back during their Hogwarts days... just that this was far more serious. A hundred thousand fold.
"Could you by any chance make your antlers small and sharp enough to fit the keyholes, Prongs?"
James stilled, before moving closer to the keyhole and examining it with the little light they had in the cell. The keyhole was huge, almost one inch in radius, as they had never been changed ever since Azkaban had been built ages ago. Slowly, James turned around, a manic smile on his face, feeling pretty certain that Sirius was close to mirroring his expression.
"Merlin, Padfoot. You're a genius."
xXx
Fifteen minutes later found a frustrated stag repeatedly jiggling its suspiciously pointy antlers into the keyhole, but its efforts were futile.
"You don't just push in and twist your antlers about, you need to find the right compartments to press," Sirius told him.
There was a loud clanking noise and a breathless James reappeared on the floor, panting. "Let's see how good you are at it," said James, miffed. "It takes great prongs control! And its not working, my antlers aren't small enough."
"Try making them really sharp, and pointy," suggested Sirius. "I can transform into my dog form so that you can see my fangs and get inspiration, if you like."
"You don't have fangs," scoffed James, before suddenly turning on Sirius. "Aha, why don't you attempt to break out with your fangs as well? After all, as you put it, they are sharp and pointy enough. And you're the one who has more experience with picking locks."
"Are you telling me to sacrifice my tearing teeth?" said Sirius incredulously.
"On the bright side, they might not break," said James lightly. "And if they do... we'll just grow them back using Skele- Gro later."
Sirius made a sound between a moan and a sigh. "Azkaban has seriously addled our brains..."
Hogwarts; Night
The day passed in haze for Damien. Everytime he closed his eyes, in his deluded state, he would somehow imagine the figure of Kit as Harry, running towards the barrier, the red shield glowing, before he disappeared altogether right before his eyes. And to think, when Harry had been with him, when they had opened Harry's many boxes of presents together, he had sworn to himself, he would never let his elder brother slip away again, not then not ever. He had broken that oath, one too many times- try as he might, how much he wished he was strong and powerful like Harry- he simply wasn't. He couldn't break Harry free of Voldemort's clutches.
But at least, at the very least, Harry was alive, wasn't he? He had a blue shield, he had emerald eyes. He could blast Damien even though he was wearing the Layhoo Jisteen. Surely these facts were enough, were solid proof that his elder brother lived?
He wasn't quite sure why he did not tell Dumbledore the true facts, all he said was that Kit was trying to escape the barriers and he tried to stop the boy. As for being questioned why did he suspect Kit of being the spy in their midst, he replied that he'd always been suspicious of the psuedo- Gryffindor, and that was the truth anyway. He didn't add anything about him finding out Kit was Harry, he'd been swirling in a haze of reality and dreams when he'd just woke up, and truthfully a part of him had initially feared that it'd all been a dream of wishful thinking.
Suddenly, the Hospital Wing door opened once more. Damien squinted against the light. "Ron?" he called out hesitantly. They'd promised to drop by that night after dinner, but judging by the time, they ought to have just started dinner.
"No," said a completely different voice. "Draco Malfoy."
Damien was more than surprised. "Draco Malfoy?" he echoed. "What are you doing here?"
The Slytherin sweeped the drapes away with one hand carelessly, still allowing a little light to filter in through the crack beneath the Hospital Wing door.
"You have something I want," he said, approaching Damien.
This, if any, seemed to only alarm Damien further. He shifted away from the tall Slytherin uneasily, hating his current condition. Malfoy wouldn't do anything would he? He wasn't on the Dark Lord's side... right?
Draco sighed, before reaching into his robes and holding out a wand. Damien's own wand.
"Oh," Damien said blinking. "Er, thanks, I guess."
He tried to take the wand from Draco, but the Slytherin did not let him take it. "Answer my question first," he said lightly. "Who is Kit Mason?"
Damien stopped, his breath caught, froze in his throat, torn between telling and the latter. He had never told anyone yet, not since his friends seemed to think he was delusional. He'd been putting that off for tomorrow... he wasn't sure if he could trust the Slytherin. He'd never actually known Draco in person, and from what he heard of Harry, Draco had been one of the best among the junior Death- Eaters. He was even somewhat promised the Dark Mark by his seventeenth birthday... which ought to have passed now, had it?
"Tell me, Potter," demanded Draco, Damien's own wand pointed threateningly at his face, "What did you do last night? Why did Mason escape?!"
"I- I thought you wanted to have nothing to do with the war anymore," Damien said, his throat dry. How much did Draco know?
"Stop putting off the question!" Draco hissed threateningly. "Tell me, is Kit Mason Harry Potter?"
Damien fell still, his breath coming in short, ragged. "You- you know, too?"
Draco remained impassive for a moment, before dropping Damien's wand, which the younger wizard immediately caught, warily.
"I guessed as much," he told Damien, "but how?"
The question was directed seemingly at no one, but for Damien, it seemed like Draco's question was a confirmation to his belief, however ineloquent it might be.
"I never told anyone else this," Damien began hesitantly, "but before the duel that night, Kit tricked me into training with him, in the Room of Requirement." He flinched slightly at the memory, and he could feel Draco's gaze snap back to him. "H-He Stunned me... and when I finally woke up, I was drugged with Veritaserum, and I couldn't move. Then Kit began asking questions, about-" He paused. "About Harry's past life. And he asked me, I remember not understanding it at that time, 'when was Harry Potter placed under the Imperius Curse after he was caught last year?'"
He stopped, but Draco urged him to go on.
"I told him, of course- he'd never been placed under the Curse. Then when I mentioned Bellatrix Lestrange, his eyes went black I guess... and when he blinked, they were back to normal. Green." Damien swallowed at the last bit.
Draco's grip on the bed post was so harsh his knuckles were white. "I didn't think it was possible," he breathed, and there was a manic, excited gleam in his dark grey eyes even as he looked at Damien. "Don't you see? The Dark Lord gave Harry another chance. What we were fighting for, who we saw lowered into coffin, it wasn't him. It was a fake. And he wiped clean Harry's memories, told him he was placed under the Imperius Curse."
Damien felt his heartbeat increase at the revelation, his heartbeat racing as he connected previous seemingly unrelated incidents. "And on that night," he added breathlessly, "when all of you were fighting at Hogsmeade, Harry turned seventeen-"
"- and he managed to fight the memory charm, temporarily. That was why he managed to send the letter."
Damien's voice was nearly choking up with emotions, joy, shock and above all, relief, that someone finally believed him, that Harry was indeed still alive. "It was a snowy white owl, wasn't it?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "He delivered the letters with Hedwig- I told her to fly at him once the clock struck seventeen... and when I received the letter, I was just so upset I just didn't-" Damien fell abruptly silent, "... notice, at that time."
"Notice what?" Draco pressed, his eyes intense.
"Harry said he didn't know what was going to happen. He said nothing was all as it seems, and he hoped I wouldn't be the Secret Keeper when the time came..."
"Harry sent a letter to Dumbledore," Draco deadpanned, sounding disgusted. "Of course that old wizard didn't make the spell, it was Harry's project. I knew it." Then he stopped, turning back to Damien, "but where is Harry now?" he asked.
"He broke out of the barrier last night," Damien replied, ignoring the searing feeling at the back of his throat. "That's why I ran after him. I'd ony just found out... and he could blast me, even though I was wearing the Layhoo Jisteen. Only Harry can attack me while I wear the stone."
"He blasted his way out of the barrier?" echoed Draco, sounding horrified.
"Yeah... what's the problem? The barriers are still holding," Damien said, uncomprehending.
"The last time I heard, Harry was still working on the barriers- and if anyone ever had the power to blast through the blood wards, he or she can only do so at a very heavy cost," Draco said. "The barriers will strip him of most of, if not all his magic. Any other average wizard would have died instantly while losing such a great amount of power. The effects are like the Markalline Curse, only much, much worse than that."
"Harry wouldn't have done something so stupid, it's his own invention, he ought to know," Damien persisted, ignoring the icy feeling in his gut.
"Of course," Draco said, "Unless that was his intention."
A/N: Thanks so much for your great reviews, they were amazing! I reread them thrice to gain more inspiration to write the next chapter, hence the quick update :D. Hope you guys enjoyed it, please leave me a review!
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Epsilon Scorpii