As Malfoy collapsed, Harry lunged forward. Dropping to his knees, he wrapped his arms around the blonde, effectively trapping him as Pansy pulled her wand out.
Clutching the squirming Slytherin's back to his chest, Harry yanked him back bodily, shuffling along the floor until he found purchase against the wall. Breathless from his struggle, he glanced up and saw Pansy looking down her wand at him, muttering something beneath the increasingly urgent groans straining from Malfoy. With a fleeting thought that the she-Slytherin was going to hex him, he squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the curse coming his way. The blonde kicked and writhed as Harry tightened his grip.
And then suddenly everything went deathly quiet.
Harry opened his eyes to find Pansy smirking at him.
The body pressed against him was still squirming so Harry bent his head to glimpse the Slytherin's face. Taught lips still white with pain were bizarrely silent.
It was then, as his gaze drifted to the flailing legs between his, that he realised Malfoy's body produced no sound out all. Not even the banging and scuffing of his shoes on the wooden floor registered. Nor, it seemed, did Harry's.
Harry glanced back up at Pansy from his bubble of silence just in time to see Ginny quickly flinging Malfoy's silvery invisibility cloak over the two of them. Pansy turned her wand on the few stunned looking Hufflepuff sixth year students still in the common room. She sneered and began mouthing something Harry couldn't hear, but whatever she said, it was apparently unpleasant, as they widened their eyes and promptly turned on their heels, pushing past the few students emerging from their rooms at the bottom of the stairs, and hightailed it out of there as if on invisible brooms.
Harry tried to subdue Malfoy's movements as much as possible as the dishevelled and somewhat grumpy pyjama-clad onlookers were slowly disbanded by Ron. By the way the disturbed sleepers were glaring at Seamus, it appeared one of his many wayward pranks was being blamed for the disturbance and since Seamus was waving apologetically, they left without further fuss.
Crabbe and Goyle both looked bewildered and at a loss as they stood staring at an invisible Malfoy. It seemed they didn't know about the little 'incentive' Voldemort was using on their one-time leader. Or at least, they had never seen it in action.
As Pansy pulled them back into the corner and spoke to them, Ron left Seamus and Dean to keep an eye out on the stairwells for stragglers and then approached Harry and Malfoy.
He tripped on Harry's foot, causing Harry's face to screw up in pain as Ron reached out and grabbed at the air before him. Eventually his hand connected with the cloak and pulled it back a small way. He was mouthing something to Harry, and going by his repentant expression at Harry's pained grimace it was an apology of sorts, and even though Harry knew it was useless, he opened his mouth and tried to answer. Ron frowned and kept trying, but Harry was having a hard enough time in his weakened state keeping a hold of the boy struggling against him that he gave up and let his head fall back against the wall, waiting out the painful silence.
When Malfoy's tense body finally started to ease, Harry lifted his head. Pansy saw his movement and approached, taking her wand out. As Malfoy's head dropped forward limply she removed the spell and Crabbe and Goyle descended on them to move the almost unconscious blonde to the couch. Blissful sound had returned, and as Ron grabbed Harry, lifting him up by the elbow, the redhead finally got out his verbal apology for treading on Harry's foot.
Harry wobbled dangerously and Ginny flung his arm over her shoulder, Ron doing the same on the other side.
"You're shaking." She pointed out in quiet concern as they led him to an armchair. He dropped into it with relief. Now that he wasn't straining to hold Malfoy, the sharp aches returned to his barely healed muscles with a vengeance. Ginny held her hand to his damp forehead with concern and then planted a quick kiss on his cheek before dashing towards the portrait hole.
"I don't think either of you will be going anywhere tonight." Ron muttered as he sank down on the arm of the chair. "Was it like that last time?" His voice was tentative and held a certain amount of repulsion as well as fear and unease.
Harry lifted his head up from the back of the cushioned chintz where it had fallen and nodded wearily, looking at Malfoy through heavily lidded eyes.
Pansy was leaning over the Slytherin as he clutched the front of her top. He was whispering to her, his eyes closed, but as Harry watched, the blonde's hand slipped away and the boy finally lost the struggle to stay conscious.
Pansy slowly straightened and stared at Malfoy uncertainly with a half-frown on her face. She swallowed and after a moment she pulled her wand out, pointing it at her boyfriend.
"Pansy."
She turned her face at Harry's sober tone.
"Don't." Harry admonished quietly.
She lifted her chin and swallowed again, her worry evident in her glistening eyes. Her wand remained pointed at Malfoy however and she turned her face back to him.
"Pansy." Harry warned again.
Her wand started to shake slightly as she turned her eyes on Harry and this time he could see the fear there. "But he told me…" Her lip trembled and her voice quavered and trailed off.
Harry knew Malfoy enough to know what she was talking about, but after seeing the effect the spell'd had on Zach, who was a perfectly fit and healthy young man, he could only guess what the shockingly harsh wake-up spell would do to Malfoy in his present state.
"You could kill him." Harry deadpanned.
Her chin trembled and a tear leaked down her cheek and her wand hand sagged hesitantly and then lowered, coming to rest by her thigh.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
"What was that all about?" Ron murmured.
"Later." Harry closed his eyes and gave in to sleep.
Harry was gently brought round sometime later. As he came to, Ginny, who was sitting on the arm of his chair where Ron had been earlier, handed him a cup. He drank it down gratefully, recognising the taste as Pepperup potion. Handing the empty cup back to Ginny, he smiled briefly about to say thanks, but was interrupted by a disgusted grunt from across the room.
"Uur. Yeuch! What is that vile grunge you're choking me with?"
"Malfoy's awake then." Ron commented as he idly turned the page of a book.
"Don't blame me, Draco." Pansy pouted as Malfoy shoved the cup away, leaning up on his elbows. "Weasley over there said it would help." She accusingly flicked her head in Ginny's direction.
"It's a restorative." Ginny said calmly. "Take it or don't, Malfoy. Its your funeral either way."
Malfoy frowned suspiciously as he thought that through for a moment, and then snatched the potion from Pansy and downed it, scowling as he swallowed.
Ginny leaned in to Harry. "You can't have one because you're still under Madame Pomphrey's care." She said quietly. "I don't know what she's already given you..."
"Pepperup should do the trick." He said, placing his hand on the small of her back. "Where'd you get it from anyway?"
"Er… From the hospital stores." She answered evasively, flicking her hair as she avoided Harry's gaze.
Harry frowned, knowing how well protected the medicinal stores are. "We really need to have a serious talk when this is over."
"What time is it?" The blonde snapped as he peered at the clock on the mantle, taking in that it was almost half past two. "Pansy, I told you to wake me immediately!"
"I told her not to." Harry offered as Pansy opened her mouth to answer, her lower lip wobbling. "We've still got time."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and gave a curt nod before scowling at Pansy to show his displeasure. "Crabbe. Goyle!" He swung his legs off the couch, straightening his hair and clothes. "Conference."
Not only did Crabbe and Goyle jump, so did Pansy, her eyes still glistening from her boyfriend's reprimand.
Ron rolled his eyes dramatically at their zealous obedience.
The four of them made their way out of the portrait hole though Malfoy stopped and looked over his shoulder.
"Potter!"
Harry leant forward so he could see round the chair.
"I'll be back."
Harry smirked at the well known muggle saying, nodding resignedly and then sank back into the chair.
"Where's Dean and Seamus?" Harry asked as he looked around the empty common room.
"U-u-up in the dorm. Sleeping." Ron replied through a yawn, placing the book he'd been flipping through down dejectedly and picking another off a pile in front of him.
"What are you doing?" Harry shifted forward, ignoring his protesting body, and plucked a book from the stack, opening it randomly.
"These are all the books I found in Hermione's trunk." He replied deflatedly. "Took us nearly an hour to get into it. She had it locked up like a miniature Azkaban. Anyone'd think she had the Malfoy family bloody jewels concealed in there, not just a bunch of tatty old books."
"And before you ask," Ginny cut in. "We haven't found anything. I can't even read half the rubbish in them, let alone understand it."
Ron tossed another book aside and pulled a new one off the top. "I'd swear that last book was pure Gibberish."
"Ooh, Gibberish?."
The three of them turned to see Luna standing at the foot of the stairs. She was clad in novelty green dragon slippers that emitted little puffs of smoke from the snouts as she walked and was wearing what could only be described as a baby blue oversized fluffy grow suit that one might imagine on giant offspring. Her blonde hair was in disarray as she scratched at it, yawning.
"Can I read it when you're done?"
"You can read Gibberish?" Harry asked hesitantly.
"Oh, yes." She stated enthusiastically as she wandered over to them. "The Quibbler is translated into forty two different magical languages. My father often brings home various translated copies to use as cage liners for the Spudgemurters. I clean them out regularly when I'm home." She smiled dreamily and added. "I've spent many an afternoon making out bits and pieces of local articles that could still be picked out." She sighed lightly and refocused on the trio. "That's how I learned the language, you know. In fact, fathers currently working on an article that links language interpretation skills with Spudgemurter poopy. He thinks their droppings might actually contain magical properties to assist in multilingual learning-"
"Ah. Luna." Ginny cut her off with a wince as Harry sucked in his lips and bit down hard, and Ron sniggered, unable to hold it in. "Do you think you could read that book?"
Luna picked up the book Ron had tossed away. She opened it and skimmed a page, a frown of disappointment crossing her face. "That's not Gibberish. It's Gobbledygook. Do you have something else?"
Ginny slumped slightly. "The others probably won't be much good either if you can't read that one."
"Oh, its not that." Luna said, her eyes particularly protuberant. "I've already read this one."
"Potter!"
Harry reluctantly left Ron staring open mouthed at Luna and climbed out of the chair to meet Malfoy. Luna was certainly an enigma.
"Ready?" The Slytherin asked as he picked up his cloak.
"Harry!" Ginny stood and handed him his own cloak with a half smile. "Just in case."
"Thanks." He balled it up and shoved it into his jacket pocket. He turned to leave, but a hand on his arm made him stop and look round.
Ginny flicked her eyes to Draco briefly as he also waited. When her gaze met Harry's, she looked at him pointedly and spoke under her breath. "Be careful."
Harry leant in and brushed her lips, smiling as he rested his forehead on hers, her warm breath ghosting over his cheek. "I'm always careful."
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" She smiled back nervously and then closing her eyes she kissed Harry as briefly as he had her but with more urgency, before pulling away completely.
When Harry turned back to the door, Malfoy was standing with an unreadable expression on his face. He seemed to realise Harry was watching him because his eyes snapped up to meet Harry's. Without saying a word, he turned and climbed through the portrait hole, with Harry trailing after him.
Both of them were concealed under the Slytherin's cloak and not far from McGonagall's office in a dimly lit and bare corridor when Malfoy spoke, breaking the tense silence that had enclosed them as thoroughly as the unplottable invisibility that surrounded them.
"Touching scene, Potter."
Harry could sense the Slytherin sneering.
"The littlest Weasel worried you might not return?"
"Don't call her that." Harry ground out. "In fact, don't talk about her at all."
"Are you insinuating I'm not worthy of talking about your boring little romance?"
Harry clenched his fists.
"You couldn't be more predictable you know, Potter." Malfoy continued. "I mean, Weasel's sister?" he scoffed. "Not much for browsing, are you?"
Harry's teeth ground together.
"Not that she isn't suited to you in a tatty, unwashed-plebeian kind of way. She reminds me of that pet rat Weasley used to-"
That did it. Harry grabbed Malfoy's pullover and slammed him into the corridor wall, the cloak sliding to the floor.
"If you say one more word about her – or any of my friends for that matter – I'll do something you'll regret." Harry threatened, but Malfoy's eyes only glittered challengingly. "You're fortunate I'm not a Slytherin or I would have left you to your own devices days ago. You put Ginny in serious danger when you told Voldemort about us." He paused as a vindictive streak battled to the surface. " I'll never forgive you for that." Harry released Malfoy and took a step back. "Come to think of it, I have no idea why I am helping you. I could just as easily go to McGonagall herself for whatever it is you're needed for." Harry watched as the blonde's eyes widened slightly.
"See you round, Malfoy." Harry turned and walked away.
"Potter!"
Harry didn't stop.
Unconcerned if he was caught out of his hospital bed now that he didn't need to be here, he stalked back down the way they had come. Footsteps sped up behind him.
"Potter… Potter, wait…"
Harry heard an urgency; a desperation in the Slytherin's voice that stopped him in his tracks. He turned warily.
Malfoy slowed to a stop too, his face completely drained of colour as he licked his lips nervously, not meeting Harry's gaze.
"Why should I help you Malfoy?" Harry asked seriously.
The Slytherin sighed and slumped against the wall.
The pale blonde had looked ill for so long now that Harry barely noticed it anymore. Except times like this, when the recent pain of Draco's nightly suffering was evident in the dark hollows beneath his troubled eyes.
"You wouldn't believe me anyway." The blonde said, still avoiding looking at Harry.
"Probably."
Malfoy scoffed sourly, looking at the floor in front of him.
Harry walked a few steps closer. "Tell me. What have got to lose?"
"I didn't tell Him." The Slytherin said immediately, yet quietly. "About you and her…"
Harry narrowed his eyes as the blonde boy looked up for a reaction.
Reading Harry's expression, Malfoy made a helpless gesture with his arm, smiling bitterly. "I said you wouldn't believe me."
Harry joined the Slytherin against the wall wordlessly, feeling the lack of strength in his own limbs now they had stopped moving.
Malfoy turned his head to look at Harry. "Don't get me wrong. I didn't hold back because of noble intentions. He already knew. Everybody knew. You're The Boy Who Lived, Potter. And you didn't exactly try to hide your new found contentedness, did you?"
Harry looked away uncomfortably. Malfoy was right, he hadn't thought to hide it until it was too late. "What about what Lucius said?" Malfoy made a confused face, so Harry mentioned the confrontation in the drains below Hogwarts.
"Oh. That." The Slytherin said. "Well, yes. I did tell father. But if you think about it, I actually did you a favour in the end." He shrugged.
"How do you figure that?" Harry asked incredulously.
"It was because I'd been making fun of you with father, you found out He knows." He stated simply.
For some unfathomable reason, what Malfoy said did make some kind of twisted sense.
Harry sighed and picked up the cloak, throwing it back over himself and holding one side up for Malfoy to get under. Malfoy pulled himself off the wall, mumbling something about it being pretty pointless seeing as they had been arguing out in the open for the past ten minutes, but joined Harry in the end, the two of them continuing on their fateful mission.
Feedback Thread
razzberry2
Jul 19 2007, 10:47 AM
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Chapter 30. Part 1 - As yet untitled.
"Stay under the cloak. I'll talk to the portraits."
Harry slipped from the cover of Malfoy's cloak as he stepped off the stairwell and moved towards the doors of McGonagall's office. He was stopped by a sudden firm grip around the wrist.
Malfoy stepped off the revolving staircase, revealing his disbelieving face with a dramatic furl of the cloak.
"Talk to the portraits?"
Harry hesitated. "…Yeah"
Malfoy turned his eyes skyward as if in exasperated prayer and snorted. "That's your plan."
"Well… yeah." Harry shook his hand free as he continued. "Look Malfoy, I've been in this office often enough to know that if we just go barging in there, McGonagall or worse will know within minutes. If you've been in there as often as you deserved to be," Turning to look at the Slytherin briefly, he added suspiciously: "though I bet you sleazed your way out of punishment more often than not – then you should know the portraits fake sleep more regularly than the average History of Magic student fakes being awake." He faced the doors again. "I'll have to … er … talk to them." Harry gestured with his hand but was hovering in front of the door uncertainly and not actually opening it. He hadn't honestly given any consideration to the portraits until now.
Unable to come up with some cleverly brilliant plan with a stroppy Malfoy breathing down his neck he finally reached for the door handle with a slightly sweaty palm, with the intention of playing the 'I am the Chosen One, don't give me any flack' card once inside, (heck, he had to take advantage of it sometime) but was stalled from opening the door by a firm grip on his arm. He turned to see an incredulous sneer across the blonde's face.
"You're just going to waltz on in there and talk them round?" Malfoy scowled. "Brilliant. Really first class! Have you been stupefied one too may times?"
Harry narrowed his eyes as the Slytherin launched into a somewhat exaggerated and unflattering impression of him.
"'Don't mind me. I'm just The Boy Who Lived To Be Dumbledore's Lap-dog after all. I only want into his protected pensieve to see his most treasured memories. Oh, and while I'm at it, I'd appreciate it if you could just pretend the Death Eater isn't here.'" The blonde dropped his wide-eyed expression and sneered before stepping between Harry and the door and adding snidely: "If it's all the same to you, I'll take care of the portraits,"
Harry stretched an arm out and placed it on the door in a gesture that barred the blonde's way. "I wont let you harm them, Malfoy."
Malfoy stopped short. His jaw worked in irritation and then set for a moment before his lip curled and he brought his face within inches of Harry's.
"Well, of course." The Slytherin conceded with scathing insincerity. "Any spell I would cast would obviously result in the devastation of centuries of wizarding history and pureblood tradition."
Harry felt his cheeks colour slightly. Somehow his image of Malfoy wantonly destroying everything Harry would protect, shattered.
"Well… What are you going to do?"
Malfoy backed off, still glaring at Harry.
"An old family secret, Potter."
When Harry tilted his head dubiously, the Slytherin took out his wand and explained shirtily: "The Malfoy Manor has almost as many relatives hanging on its walls as there are past heads at Hogwarts. Some of them are interesting to talk to, some are total stiffs, and others are quite mad. But almost all of them pontificate whenever there is someone near enough to hear them, proving extremely vocal of their opinions." The blonde turned his attention on the double doors. "Constant criticism on everything from what we choose to wear to how we speak now-days gets rather tiresome. Father taught me how to … still them."
"Still them?"
"So to speak." Malfoy glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye before swinging the cloak back over himself. Harry frowned uncomfortably, not at all sure what Malfoy's idea of stilling meant, but having little choice in the end as the night would be fading to dawn in a few short hours. He opened the door carefully, giving Malfoy enough time to slip through with him, and closed it again, leaving them both standing in darkness.
The first thing Harry noticed about the barely visible room was that it was quiet. Not the silence one would expect from the unoccupied Headmistresses Office, but the sort of silence one might experience in a morgue.
None of the usual heavy breathing.
No snoring or snuffling.
Nothing.
Harry waited for only seconds before he began edging into the heavily shadowed room, his wand in his hand and his eyes searching for the familiar paintings. The sparse moonlight that perforated the surroundings only seemed to be adding to the dimness rather than dispelling it.
Harry was unable to see anything in the murky geometric shapes on the wall as he worked his way to the middle of the room, the silence was unnerving.
He stood there, in the centre of the room, waiting for some sort of sign from Malfoy, something that would relieve the almost oppressive reticence.
But none came.
What was Malfoy up to? And why were the portraits so quiet?
Unable to bear the feeling of being blind and vulnerable just standing there, Harry lit his wand.
Or at least, that's what he had intended to do.
Before he knew it, a blinding swathe of light burst forth from the tip of his wand and filled the room, making Harry gasp and flinch. Flinging an arm up to his face protectively he squeezed his eyes closed tightly. A muffled groan sounded not far away.
Harry flicked his wrist impatiently, extinguishing the wand, and then tried the Lumos spell again, this time concentrating on calming himself. He opened his eyes slowly to see a strong but much more sensible light illuminating his surroundings.
Before he had the chance to do anything else, a rustling of cloth sounded to his left and Malfoy revealed himself from beneath the cloak.
"What the hell was that?"
The Slytherin shook his head and stretched his jaw down, opening his eyes comically wide before flinging his cloak uncaringly on a chair in front of McGonagall's desk.
After rubbing his eyes he fixed Harry with a dissident, expectant glare.
"Er…" Harry shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. It had to be another power spike, this time brought on by his unease, but he didn't want to tell Malfoy that.
"Potter!" Malfoy spat. "Next time, a little warning before you randomly Accio the sun please!"
"Sorry." Harry couldn't quite meet the Slytherin's piercing gaze. "It... was an accident."
The Slytherin snorted.
"I didn't do it on purpose. All right?" Harry said, beginning to get a tad snarky himself.
Malfoy continued to eye Harry though his expression appeared to turn from irritation to intense questioning. Harry took the opportunity to finally check on the portraits adorning the walls. What he saw made his jaw slowly drop.
Every canvass, one after the other, was empty.
The backgrounds still remained and many of them had ornate or comfortable looking chairs in the foreground. But not a single person was present. Not one.
Except…
"Well, well, well. This is a night for firsts indeed."
Harry and Malfoy swung around to see Phinneus Nigellus staring omnisciently down at them.
"Headmaster Nigellus." Malfoy nodded in recognition.
"Young Mr. Malfoy." Phinneus nodded in like. "And Harry Potter." The two-dimensional image observed smugly. "Have you found what you were looking for?" he addressed the Slytherin.
Harry turned a hard look on Malfoy as the blonde flickered his gaze at the surrounding walls and the lack of the other past Hogwarts Heads. It was obvious to Harry now that this was the portrait that Kreacher had been referring to all those months ago; the one that Malfoy had spoken to, and Harry could guess just how the Slytherin had managed it: He must have used the stilling hex on the other portraits to talk to Nigellus; if he could disable a room full of paintings at will, it couldn't be too hard to release just one of them to talk to.
But why Phinneus Nigellus?
"Funny you should ask, really…" Malfoy began uncertainly.
"I don't think so." Phinneus stated. "It was only a matter of time before you made your way back in here. I do hope you actually know what you want."
Malfoy swallowed and frowned slightly.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, eyeing both of them. His earlier feeling of unease was beginning to morph into something much more sinister. He motioned his head to the surrounding walls. "Where are all the others?"
Malfoy shrugged just as an 'Ah,' sounded from Nigellus. Both of them turned to the portrait again.
Phinneus smirked. "You have chosen rather an auspicious evening to enter the Headmistresses lair. A great gathering is taking place, possibly the largest that has ever been seen in the magical world." He waved a relaxed hand, rolled his eyes and settled into a bored look as he continued, sounding as if he were repeating something he'd heard two too many times. "Much planning and preparation has culminated into this one event. An event that could change the ideals wizarding society has been governed by for thousands of years. It is a night for the history books." At the two boys questioning looks, Nigellus rolled his eyes again and curled his lip in distaste.
"All manner of owls and emissaries have been swooping, traipsing and oozing through this office for months now, squawking and blustering and dropping all manner of fur, feathers, slime and… and worse all over the place in the hopes that some sort of alliance can be formed." Phinneus snorted his disapproval. "As if most of those creatures could be reasoned with! Ridiculous. There is an old Black family saying, you know: If it neither slithers nor stalks,"
"– It scavenges." Malfoy joined the portrait in unison.
Harry noticed the small quirk of amusement playing across both of their lips as Phinneus met his fellow Slytherins gaze.
"Very good." Nigellus praised. "I see your mother has not forgotten."
Malfoy's smile vanished and his face fell as his eyes dropped. "She taught me much about her family, our family, before she died."
"Narcissa is dead?" Phinneus Nigellus' looked taken aback.
Harry began to feel almost as if he were intruding on a private moment. Phinneus and Draco were both part of the Black family; Narcissa and her sister Bellatrix had been Blacks before marriage.
"Yes." The blonde answered roughly with an intent frown directed at the floor.
"Ah." Phinneus said, himself now peering at some unseeable floor on his side of the canvas. "Then you are truly the last. Not in name, but in blood."
Malfoy looked up at the painting but did not acknowledge the statement. After a moment he said: "I have to gain access to Dumbledore's pensieve, we both do," He motioned to Harry, glancing at him briefly. "Neither of us can move forward otherwise. Will you let us do what we have to without interfering?"
Harry couldn't help the incredulous frown that etched his face at the Slytherin's request. Surely he wasn't going to trust Phinneus – a distant family member or not – to wait patiently while he and Malfoy broke into Dumbledore's pensieve? He wasn't aware that Slytherins could be that trusting of anyone, let alone another Slytherin.
The portrait finally raised his gaze, though his head remained slightly bowed. "I took an oath, young Mr. Malfoy. I am sworn to loyally serve the Head of Hogwarts."
"That's what I thought." The Slytherin remarked and then his wand darted in a series of movements and Phinneus Nigellus was frozen, stilled, as Malfoy had called it – albeit with a slight smirk on his lips and a knowing glint in his eye. Harry watched the painting for moment and seeing no movement at all, turned to the blonde.
"You just have the best of both worlds don't you?" He poked. "One side of the family are Malfoys, the other Blacks. That's some family you've got there."
"You'll never know the half of it, Potter." Malfoy said in an undertone and whirled around to face the expanse of the office. "So, where is this pensieve?"
Harry and Malfoy stood staring at the cabinet.
"Well?" Malfoy prodded. "Open it."
They glanced sideways at each other.
Harry had the password to open the cabinet, or at least, he thought he did. It all depended on whether Snape had given him the correct information.
He could feel Malfoy's eyes boring into him as he slowly edged forward. Harry's mind was going at a hundred miles an hour. If the password worked, if Snape had actually come through a second time, once he opened the cabinet, what was to stop Malfoy from stupefying Harry and going on alone?
Absolutely nothing.
Harry stopped in front of the wooden doors and tried the latch. Just in case. Sure enough it was locked.
"What are you waiting for?"
The telltale squeak in Malfoy's voice let Harry know the Slytherin was just as tense as he was. "You." Harry said. "You should be here next to me in case you need to act fast." It was a bluff of course. Harry had no idea what to expect once he gained access, but he was not about to have Malfoy at his back no matter what happened.
The Slytherin breathed in deeply before finally positioning himself alongside Harry.
They exchange equally wary and uncertain glances before they both turned their attention to the cabinet.
Harry aimed his wand and murmured the password.
A crooked bolt of white pierced the lock and the wooden door clicked open, sitting fractionally ajar.
Harry breathed a sigh of relief.
"Open it." Malfoy urged, gesturing impatiently with his wand.
Harry leaned in and pulled both of the wooden doors apart. Once the pensieve was fully exposed the shelf it rested on glided smoothly forward, seemingly opening the pensieve to use. But there was no way Harry would enter the pensieve as it appeared right now. Instead of the iridescent blue-green almost liquid substance that normally floated within the stone basin, a blood red substance clung to the sides and crawled in a circling motion, creeping up the sides before oozing back down again.
When Harry surreptitiously glanced at Malfoy, he saw the other boy's face had paled as he stared at the contents of the pensieve.
"What is that?"
"Memories gone bad." The Slytherin said. "Snape didn't prepare me for this."
"What?" Harry exclaimed.
Malfoy looked up from the bloodied mass. "He told me the memory was cursed, Potter." At Harry's frown, he continued. "Just before Dumbledore died something happened to him, something that was driving him to madness. A curse. Something that was attacking his mind. Snape said it would be powerful and far reaching, but this… I never imagined it would be so bad." He turned back to the pensieve. "These memories are rotten. Decayed. Poisonous. There's nothing I can do to restore them."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked tensely.
"It can't be done, Potter." Malfoy snapped, obviously hovering between anger and despair. The blonde closed his eyes in a painful expression and swallowed. It was then that Harry stopped thinking about what this meant for himself and realised what this would mean for the Slytherin. The boy was never going to be able to complete the task Voldemort had set him. Once again he will have failed and his fathers, as well as his own life, was as good as forfeit.
Harry watched the blonde who had his head bowed over the stone basin staring unseeing at the deteriorated memories. This was too much even for Harry to bear. They hadn't spoken for maybe 5 minutes, just absorbing the ruin they were faced with, but it felt like forever and Harry could feel his anger rising.
Neither of them deserved this! Not really. Both of them had worked so hard to get where they were. It just wasn't right that they'd been stoppered so abruptly. Every little bit of hope that Harry had invested into doing something useful had evaporated, and he didn't even have Hermione anymore! How was he ever going to help her? How was he going to get her back?
How is it that Voldemort was able to corrupt even the very last essence that was Professor Dumbledore?
Harry struck out in a fury and booted the cabinet, shaking it violently and scattering the contents on top of it noisily. Malfoy started at the display.
"Merlin's Armpit! Get a hold of yourself, Potter!"
Harry spun to face Draco quickly, all too ready to vent, but something distracted him instantly. On Malfoy's chest, just to the right, there was a shimmering glow. Almost like a water reflection in all but colour.
Harry reached out to touch it but it disappeared behind the shadow of his fingers and reappeared on the back of his hand. Malfoy frowned and looked to see what Harry was staring at and followed his gaze to the path of light. His breath suddenly hitched as he gabbed Harry's hand. The reflection disappeared.
Malfoy elbowed Harry aside as he crouched to see inside the cabinet.
"Hey!" Harry protested, moving in to lean down and get a better look at what the Slytherin was up to.
Malfoy reached into the furthest shadows and withdrew his arm carefully, opening his curled fist to reveal a clear vial filled with an iridescent purple light.
"Is that…?"
"Yes." Malfoy half-whispered. "These are also affected by the curse, but less so." He stood up and held it to Harry's wand light. "These, I can fix. At least temporarily. Enough so we can see what they contain."
As Malfoy worked to clean out the pensieve and regenerate the newly found memories, Harry wandered around the room, checking the empty canvases from time to time in case someone returned. They remained unoccupied though and when the Slytherin finally seemed satisfied with the now almost blue substance floating around the pensieve Harry approached the opposite side of the basin.
"We ready?"
Malfoy met Harry's enquiring look and nodded briefly. "It will be enough." They watched each other uncomfortably for a moment over the shimmering light, wands poised to enter the substance, almost unwilling to discover what lay ahead.
"On three." Harry said.
He counted, and then they both dipped their wands.
They landed close together on their feet on soft grass. Ahead of them were Snape and Dumbledore.