A/N: If you didn't like the last chapter because of too much dialogue, you probably won't like this one, either. Sorry, guys. On the upside, you get another chapter on Tuesday, and that one covers the Hogwarts Express and the Welcoming Feast! Hooray!

For those of you who like dialogue, I recommend my favorite short story, "Hills Like White Elephants," by Ernest Hemingway. Probably 90% dialogue, and among the best three pages you will ever read.

For those of you who hate dialogue, I recommend "To Build a Fire," by Jack London. There are only two spoken sentences, and no response, so it can't actually be called 'dialogue.' More like 'monologue.'

The next morning, Harry and Draco were playing gobstones. Harry told Draco about the late-night conversation with Draco's mother.

"Sure, I knew about it," Draco said. "We don't talk about it much—Sirius Black is a blemish on the face of our family, even if he is just my mother's cousin." Draco moved a gobstone, taking one of Harry's.

Harry quickly surveyed the board. "It's just… I always thought that Voldemort was the most evil anybody could be. But he's not." Harry moved a gobstone to an open space, failing to capture one of Draco's. "With Voldemort, you know what you're getting. He's an incredibly powerful dark wizard, and he's trying to kill you. Sirius Black is worse than that. He and my father were like brothers. To betray someone so close to you, somebody who has placed their trust in you…"

Draco moved a gobstone, again taking one of Harry's pieces. Harry quickly moved a gobstone, barely glancing at the board. Draco reached out a hand to move then pulled it back.

"You're not really in the game, are you, mate?"

Harry shook his head.

"Let's go flying, then," Draco said.

"I don't feel like playing quidditch," Harry said quietly.

"I didn't say quidditch," Draco responded. "Let's just fly for a while. No strategy, no competition. No talking, even. Let's just go do something that we don't have to think about."

The corner of Harry's mouth turned upward in a small smile. "Okay. Let's go fly."

For almost an hour, they did just that. Loops and whirls, impromptu races and dives, rolls and spins. Eventually, Harry's sprits began to lift. By the time the boys had finished, they were both laughing and covered in sweat from the exertion in the summer heat.

*!*!*

Harry's trunk was packed and ready for the trip to Hogwarts early the next morning. Draco was in his room, putting the last of his things together. Harry, having nothing better to do, wandered through Malfoy Manor, looking at the numerous magical paintings. Soon, he found himself outside Lucius Malfoy's study. He could see a light under the door.

Harry remembered the promise he made to himself at the end of last term. It seemed so much less urgent, now. Perhaps it had all been a mistake…

No. Harry wouldn't lie to himself. He had to know why Mr. Malfoy gave Ginny Weasley the diary of Tom Riddle.

Harry knocked on the door to the study.

"Enter."

Harry walked into the room. Lucius Malfoy was bent over a desk, carefully inspecting a parchment.

"Harry, what can I do for you?"

"Mr. Malfoy, I was hoping we could talk for a few moments. About the end of last year, and the year before."

Draco's father sat up. "I expected this conversation, Harry. Have a seat." Draco's father rolled up the parchment and tucked it away in the desk as Harry sat down in one of the room's enormous leather chairs. "Go ahead, Harry. What would you like to speak about?"

Harry began slowly. "Well, sir, I've been thinking a lot about what happened. Down in the Chamber. And I wanted to tell you some of it, because I'm not sure that Dumbledore understood it all." This wasn't true at all, but Harry thought it would appeal to Mr. Malfoy.

Lucius nodded. "Dumbledore is very intelligent, and very powerful, but because of that the mistakes he makes are correspondingly larger. I must say, I have been curious to know how you survived a confrontation with the Heir of Slytherin."

"When I was in the Chamber, I had to face the Heir. He was a boy named Tom Riddle… a boy that eventually became Lord Voldemort. He stole my wand and ordered the basilisk to attack me, but I convinced the basilisk not to."

"Draco told me you were a parselmouth, Harry, but… you convinced a basilisk to disobey the Dark Lord?"

"Yes. And when the basilisk refused to attack, Voldemort cut off its head. I used a basilisk fang to stab Voldemort's diary, which was the vessel for Voldemort's spirit. Both the spirit and the diary were destroyed."

"An exceptional tale. But what did you fail to understand?"

"It's not that I didn't understand… but I didn't want to ask Dumbledore. Why did you give Voldemort's diary to Ginny Weasley?"

Lucius sat back in his chair, steepleing his fingers. "Ah, Harry. Too clever to be deflected, aren't you? A Slytherin, through and through. I'm proud of you, my boy."

"I have to know, sir."

Lucius's gaze became distant. "Harry, how much do you know of the war?"

"With Voldemort? Next to nothing."

"I graduated from Hogwarts during the early years of the Dark Lord's ascent into power. Slytherin then was much the same as Slytherin now—a home for the ambitious, the pureblooded, and the powerful. It proved a natural recruiting ground for the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

"They were dark times, Harry. The truly evil, like Sirius Black, willingly committed horrible atrocities. I hesitate to describe them to a child. Other wizards were placed under the Imperius Curse and forced to act against their will by Death Eaters. Many wizards… otherwise upstanding individuals… did things they were not proud of, simply trying to survive."

"So when you graduated, you were caught between a rock and a hard place."

Lucius nodded. "A Death Eater forced me into the Dark Lord's service through use of the Imperius curse. Later, my actions while under the curse were used to blackmail me. I was coerced into cooperating further. That is why the Dark Lord's diary was in my possession. For the majority of the war, I was forced to serve the Dark Lord as a Death Eater."

Harry was taking deep breaths. He had been telling himself all summer that there was an innocent explanation for Mr. Malfoy's actions, and here it was. Mr. Malfoy hadn't wanted to be a Death Eater. He was cursed, and then blackmailed into doing Voldemort's bidding.

Why, then, was the blood pounding so loudly in Harry's ears? Why were the fingers on his right hand twitching, as if they wanted to draw his wand?

"But why did you give the diary to Ginny?" Harry asked.

Lucius lowered his head. "That was a terrible decision, Harry, and one I regret deeply. Arthur Weasley was promoting the Muggle Protection Act last summer. One of several unintentional consequences of that misguided piece of legislation would have been the financial ruination of a corporation in which I had made a substantial investment. Truly, I had hoped that young Ms. Weasley would be discovered with the diary. The ensuing scandal would have enveloped Arthur's family and prevented passage of the legislation. I had no way of knowing that the diary would be so dangerous."

Harry nodded. Everything made sense. Mr. Malfoy's actions were subtle, nearly untraceable, and perfectly understandable for a Slytherin. But Harry still wanted to leap across the desk and grab Mr. Malfoy by the throat. Something deep inside Harry was screaming that Mr. Malfoy was lying. Harry buried that part of him even deeper, ignoring his intuition and silencing any protest from his conscience.

Keeping his face calm, Harry stood. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, for your honesty. I know it must be difficult to talk about the last war. I can't imagine having to live through it."

Draco's father came around the desk and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Let us hope you are never required to live through such times, Harry. And I should be thanking you for your understanding. You are a remarkable young boy, and my family is better for having known you. It was a stroke of good fortune that Draco met you in Madame Malkin's."

"I'm glad about that, too."

Lucius patted Harry on the back. "Off you go. Tell my son that if he isn't finished packing before bed, tomorrow morning he'll be packing instead of eating."

Harry forced himself to laugh. "Sure thing, Mr. Malfoy."