Chapter 12

Voldemort grew up in an orphanage. That was the main focus of Harry's and Jamie's second meeting with Dumbledore. They again went into the headmaster's office and viewed a memory in the Pensieve, Dumbledore's this time. It seems that after Merope gave birth to Voldemort, whom she named after his father, she died. And left Voldemort in a muggle orphanage which he hated. Harry still did not know what the points of these lessons are, his mind was too full of wondering why he and Jamie were shown these memories. Voldemort was a resourceful child; he was secretive, highly intelligent, and, something that Dumbledore made sure to point out, friendless. Why would Harry and Jamie need to know that?

Harry made sure to ask this question to Draco when they've met up the next day. They were in the courtyard hidden in a corner. Harry insisted that they always meet in a public place, yet stay somewhere where nobody can bother them. Draco, as always, was happy to oblige. "Why would he show us these memories? I don't see the point of them," Harry frowned. "How will learning about Voldemort's past help us survive when we have to fight him?"

"I don't know Harry," Draco said. "But maybe… hmm… would it work?" he started to mumble to himself.

"What work?" Harry asked looking at him. They were sitting on a stone bench, about half a foot separating each other. Draco looked at Harry and said, "Remember what you told me? About how you're trying to figure out a way out of the prophecy? To save both you and Jamie from the war?"

"Yeah…"

"Well," Draco smirked. "It sounds insane… but how about we start working on that? Let's convince the Dark Lord—sorry, Voldemort to attack Dumbledore. If they fight, and only they, I am positive that they'll cancel each other out or something."

"It's insane, how do you even supposed to do that?" Harry huffed. Draco smirked and pull out his wand.

"Can I cast that muffle spell?" he asked. Harry nodded, looking at him curiously. Draco waved his wand and said, "Muffiato!" When they were both certain that the spell was up, Draco pocketed his wand and turned his attention to Harry, shifting on the bench so that his body faced Harry's. "How deep are you and Jamie? In the Dark Arts?" he asked.

Harry blushed. "We don't do those kinds of spells, we would never think of it. But we dabble enough in spells that the Ministry forbids or made illegal for whatever reason," he said.

"Such as?"

"There is one spell, it is based off of Veritaserum," Harry said. "We worked on it together and use it only a handful of times. It's called 'Veritasermo.' The Truth-Telling Spell it's called. Took us a long time to get it right, this was used before the potion was even made. Anyway, the last time we…I used it was on Blaise in the train."

"Why'd you use it on him?" Draco asked.

"To make sure he was telling the truth," Harry said. "This was before we know that he and Ze were the same person."

Draco nodded and breathed through his nose, contemplating. "What else do you two do?" he asked.

"I'm sure my diaries would be considered Dark Arts, or at least Dark Artifacts," Harry said. "They're the first in existence after all. I am a Parseltongue while my brother is not; and umm… Jamie just knows about the diaries and the spell." Harry's cheeks blazed with embarrassment as if he was holding onto a secret.

"What do you mean?" Draco insisted.

Harry looked up at Draco. "Before I tell you… promise me that you will never, ever, talk about this to Jamie. Please. Or Ron. I promised both of them that I would never do this and it would break their trust," Harry said.

Draco reached for Harry's hands and held them gently in his. "I promise Harry," he said. "What we talk about now would never, ever be known to either James or Ron."

Harry let out a sigh and said, "I practice the Dark Arts, not my brother. He's cool with it, but only with things that will help us or just seem cool to do. I on the other hand… I've constantly read about the Dark Arts. On our first trip to Diagon Alley, back when we were eleven, Jamie and I got away from Hagrid and roamed around the place. We somehow founded ourselves in Knockturn Alley, and soon in a store with a huge snake tank in the middle. They were talking, and I talked back to them. In Parseltongue, only I didn't know it at the time. The shopkeeper however, he was shocked and told us about it. He gave us books about the Dark Arts… as thanks for allowing him to hear Parseltongue. We looked through it and Jamie was put off by what we read. I however… I was fascinated. I wanted to know more, to learn more, so when Jamie told me to throw the books away, I hid them instead. I hid and read them all. I've told nobody this, shown nobody this. I kept reading these books, practiced some of their spells… I think I may have permanently lowered Crabbe's and Goyle's intelligence.

"Anyway, Jamie made me promise never to use any of the kinds of spells we've read about in our first visit, and Ron made both of us swear to never, ever touch Dark Magic at all just this summer. If they found out… it would be devastating," Harry frowned.

"Don't worry Harry, they'll never find out," Draco said. "This will stay a secret between you and me."

"Thank you Draco, seriously," Harry smiled. Draco brought Harry's hands to his lips and kissed them gently.

"You can always rely on me Harry, I promise," he said. "As long as you're with me, there's nothing to worry about."

"Expect Voldemort… and McLaggen," Harry muttered.

"Don't worry about McLaggen, he's taken care of," Draco said.

"Really? What did you do?" Harry asked.

"Just some harmless pranks," Draco said smoothly, and Harry believed his lie.

Harry nodded. He moved closer to Draco and slowly leaned his head against Draco's shoulder. He moved his hand so that he was holding Draco's and placed their hands in his lap. Draco relaxed and leaned his head on Harry's. They sat there in equal silence, both just enjoying each other's company, Harry drawing from the strength of Draco's muscles.

"So…" Harry's soft voice broke the silence minutes later. "How are we going to do it? How are we going to convince Voldemort?"

"First… we'll write a letter," Draco said.

Cormac McLaggen wasn't eating properly. He didn't have his normal fill of breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. His friends noticed this and asked him what was the matter. Cormac looked at them, but didn't answer, his eyes shifting somewhere that his friends couldn't see. "Is it your dad? Did he—"

"No…"

"Then what?"

"I… no…" Cormac said. He stood up and said, "I'm going to bed."

"But it's not even five," his friend said.

"I'm tired."

Cormac's feet shuffled as he walked away from the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall. He couldn't find himself to walk properly, lately he couldn't find himself to do anything. He just moved passively, his mind too full of anxiety of his father's reaction. He's going to disinherit me, he's going to throw me out of the family. I'm going to have nothing, I'm going to be alone. Harry hates me. The last thought hurt most of all. Cormac believed that he could do anything if he had the boy he loved by his side, but he ruined his only chance and now because of Malfoy and Zabini, he'll never have another one. "I fucked up, I over did it, I scared him away," Cormac muttered to himself. "I'm an awful, despicable abomination. …Why can't I act right?"

Dungbombs hit his back and exploded, staining his clothes in a disgusting smell. Cormac didn't care, this was quickly becoming a regular occurrence. "God you smell McLaggen!" someone laughed.

"Got hit again poof? Good riddance!"

"Man, who did you piss off McLaggen? You stink!"

Cormac made his way to Gryffindor Tower slowly. Everyone he ran into quickly got out of his way, holding their nose dramatically and looking utterly repulsed by him. In Gryffindor Tower he retreated to his dormitory and threw his clothes in the hamper. Naked, he padded towards the bathrooms and turned one of the shower stalls on. He stepped in and leaned against the wall, sliding downwards until he sat on the floor, the hot water hitting his hair and neck. Cormac curled his legs to his chest and just stared in the distance. He should be angry, he should be furious, he should find those two snakes and beat the ever-loving crap out of them. But he can't. If he touches them, aggravates them in anyway… then Harry will know what a disgusting abomination he is.

"All I ever wanted to do," Cormac said softly to himself, "was to date you, Harry. It took me two years to build up the courage… and now… stupid Malfoy. Why do I have to ruin everything? I can't even get my own dad to like me."

Harry and Draco were in the library while the rest of the castle was in the Great Hall having dinner. They had the entire room to themselves, not even Madam Pince was in roaming about and telling students to be quiet. They were sitting at a table in the back of the library just in case. On the table was Harry's diaries, as well as several pieces of parchment and a bottle of ink. Harry held a quill in his hand and closed his eyes. "I have to think," he said to Draco. "I can't believe we're doing this so I have to think about what precisely I will write to Voldemort."

"If I can give you some pointers," Draco said. "Address him as the Dark Lord. Play to his ego, and convince him that you hate Dumbledore as much as he hates him."

"But I don't hate Dumbledore that much," Harry said. "I just want out."

"I know Harry, but we have to convince him that you do hate him," Draco said. Harry nodded and looked down at the parchment.

Harry was silent for a moment before looking up at Draco, "I think I know what to write," he said before dipping his quill into the first bottle of ink. "This might be on the long side though, so please bear with me."

Draco nodded.

To the Dark Lord,

This is Harry Fleamont Potter. There are things that I wish to tell you, things that Dumbledore doesn't know; things that would cause Dumbledore to accuse me of being a Dark Wizard. My twin brother and I, we both use the Dark Arts. I practice the Dark Arts. My brother Jamie, he only uses a couple of spells the Ministry of Magic and Dumbledore deems illegal while staying away from the darker stuff. I however, I've learned those spells, read their tomes and mastered their secrets. My Lord, if I can call you that, my Lord I am begging you to cease your hunt for my brother and I. The war between you and Dumbledore is a war that Jamie and I do not want to be a part of. There is so much more about the Dark Arts that I want to learn, so much more about Parseltongue that I want to learn. I feel like I've only scratched the surface and the only way for me to satisfy my thirst for knowledge is to live. And the only way I can see living is staying out of the war, and getting rid of Dumbledore.

Everyone believes that Jamie and I are these perfect twins who are the poster-children for Dumbledore's examples and teachings but we're far from that. Jamie and I excel in Defense Against the Dark Arts but only because we know the Dark Arts personally. I've created and regularly use an artifact that the Ministry and Dumbledore would readily call a Dark Artifact simply because it is new. The three pages included with this letter are three copies from my diaries. Simply press your wand against the page and the memory written down will play as if you are viewing from a Pensieve. The memories included are as followed: My first time speaking Parseltongue, myself experimenting with the Dark Arts, and a memory I wish to forget. I give these memories to you as proof of my intellect as well as my earnestness in my request.

I do not wish to lose my brother. His safety is of the utmost importance to me and has driven me to do many things, such as deciding to contact you. Dumbledore would be unreasonable. He would destroy my precious diaries and force myself and Jamie to throw our lives away for him. He would rather waste or lives away because of a "prophecy" rather than allowing us to live the way we want to live.

Harry paused and placed the quill back in the ink bottle. "The more I think about it… the more it makes sense," he said, looking at Draco.

"What does?"

"Dumbledore's actions," Harry said. "The more I write about it, the more the mysterious circumstances makes perfect sense. Such as Jamie and I going to live with the Dursleys instead of Sirius, or why Viktor broke up with me. …I think Dumbledore must have had a hand in it."

"But why?" Draco asked, deciding not to ask about who 'Viktor" is.

"Because if I was with Viktor, I would have gone away from England that summer, I would have been in Bulgaria where they practice the Dark Arts openly! The things I could have learned… the romantic nights Viktor and I could have had," Harry sighed. He shook his head. "He's over though, and now I have you." He gave Draco a faint smile. "Dumbledore must have ruined my relationship with Viktor in order to keep me here, keep me with the Dursleys. Why, I cannot say, but it must have something to do with him wanting me to fight."

"When you lay it out like this, it does make sense," Draco nodded. "To think the old man would swoop so low."

Harry nodded, took the quill again, and continued to write.

When I was being sorted the hat gave me a choice: Gryffindor or Slytherin. It noted that I had several traits that Salazar Slytherin coveted, but in my foolishness I've denied them. Because of Dumbledore and the pressure he and the rest of the Wizarding Community have placed on myself, I've denied who I truly am. My Lord, I am a Dark Wizard.

I want to research the Dark Arts, I want to learn more about, embrace myself deeply in it's vast pool of knowledge. I want to one day become a great a Dark Wizard like you, my Lord, and Grindlewald before you and Morgan Le Fay before him. But the only way I can see that happening is if Dumbledore is gone, and my brother is out of the war. I will do anything to protect my brother, to help my brother survive. There are spells that sew limbs together, that return spilt blood back into grisly wounds, and brings a person back from the brink of death. These spells are all considered Dark Magic, these spells are all terrible difficult, and though I have had no need to cast them, and wish to have no need, I know the theory, I know the movements, and I know the costs. I am willing to do anything to save my brother, even if that means helping you orchestrate Dumbledore's death.

I've befriended Draco Malfoy. We are… close, we told each other secrets that we wouldn't dare let others know. I know of his mark and his mission, and he knows of my true alliance to Dark Magic and my active use and practicing of Parseltongue. We are helping each other. There are things that he and I both want and we are working towards that goal.

But why should you trust me? All you know, my Lord, I am simply writing under Dumbledore's order. Well, in order to gain your trust, I will present you information that Dumbledore would never want anyone to learn. He is giving Jamie and I private lessons. During these lessons, we are not learning spells or tactics but instead we're watching memories, events from the past that all circle around you, my Lord.

Again, the quill goes into the ink bottle. "Am I calling him 'my Lord' too much?" he asked Draco.

Draco looked at the letter and shook his head. "No, it makes it look that you are on his side, that you've already submitted to him. Like I said Harry, stroke his ego, men love it when you do."

"Does that mean I should be stroking your ego?" Harry chuckled.

"Only when we reached that point, Harry," Draco smirked. "Just know that my ego is enormous."

"Sure," Harry said, shaking his head lightly. It feels so good to act like a regular teenager sometimes. He took the quill and continued writing.

The first memory was from a Ministry worker who visited the Gaunt Family. Morfin was being charged for hexing the muggle Tom Riddle, your father. During the memory, my brother and I have learned of your ancestry. More importantly there was a ring that Marvolo Gaunt wore. Dumbledore has it… or had it. During our second lesson, the ring laid destroyed on the desk, though I don't know why, and I am sorry for that. The second memory was from Dumbledore himself and it was about your first meeting. You lived in an orphanage, friendless. The other kids were afraid of you and Dumbledore made you give back your souvenirs from bullying the muggles. You told Dumbledore that you could talk to snakes and Dumbledore paused.

I don't know why Dumbledore is showing us these memories, it seems that he is trying to figure out something, something that is connected to you. I will be reading all texts I have on the Dark Arts, I will be trying to figure out what Dumbledore is looking for before he can. When I find out his goals, I will tell you.

I wish to repeat this point again, I am doing this to keep my brother safe. Neither of us want to fight, neither of us want to lose each other. If joining you is the only way to keep him out of combat I am ready for any consequences.

Sincerely,

Harry Fleamont Potter.

P.S. The letter and pages are charmed with a spell of my improvement. They can only show the truth. Try writing a lie and it will change automatically.

Harry placed the quill in the ink bottle for a final time and read over his letter. "It seems convincing enough to me," he said sliding the letter carefully to Draco.

Draco read it and a smirk grew on his face. "Harry, dear, you would make a brilliant Slytherin, I think," he said. He looked up to Harry and said, "Even I am convinced."

"Perfect," Harry said. He took out his wand and tapped the page muttering to himself. The page seemed to glow for a second before settling down. "Obviously there are lies on the letter already, so the spell will only fix lies that aren't in my handwriting," Harry said.

Draco shook his head smirking mirthfully. "Seriously Harry! You should have been a Slytherin," he said. Harry blushed and hid a smile. "Then my goals and interests would only be too obvious," he said.

Harry opened a diary and turned to one of the first pages. "Jamie's and my first visit to Diagon Alley," he said scanning the words. "Such a more simpler time back then," he sighed. With his wand he flipped through the pages until he reached the scene he wanted to copy. "Draco can you hand me that piece of parchment?" he asked.

Draco slid it over and Harry tapped his diary. The memory started to play on the pages. Harry circled the wand, muttering wordlessly to himself and Draco watched in amazement as the memory started to double. He was staring at two versions of eleven-year-old Harry and Jamie. The second version lifted into the air with Harry's wand and transferred to the parchment, sinking into it as words appeared. The image sunk into the page and soon nothing was left but an exact copy of the words written in the diary. "It worked!?" Harry said shocked.

"You mean you didn't think it would?" Draco asked.

"No, honestly," Harry said. "There are no runes in these pages."

"Huh…" Draco said. He gave Harry the two last pieces of parchment and watched as Harry did the same with two more memories. When it was all done, Harry folded the pages in thirds and laid them on top of the letter, which he folded over the memories. "Hopefully he'll read this," Draco said.

"Hopefully," Harry nodded. "Now the only thing left is how to send it."

"You can't use your owl, obviously," Draco said. Harry nodded and bit his lip in thought.

"I told him that we are working together," Harry said. "Perhaps it would be useful if I use your owl?"

"You want to use my eagle owl?" Draco asked. Harry nodded. "Okay then, let's go," Draco said standing up. Harry followed and the two made their way out of the library and towards the Owlery. "Hopefully if everything goes correctly, Dumbledore and Voldemort will be gone by… say Christmas?"

"Christmas?" Harry said. "But that's two months away. Do you really think we can get them to kill each other by then?"

"Of course," Draco said. "I want them gone so we can have a peaceful holiday, Harry. Voldemort is a proud man, he will snatch at our bait. I know he will."

"Like you said, we need to stroke his massive ego," Harry couldn't help but snicker. Draco nodded and snickered along with Harry. The two of them quickly made their way to the Owlery. "Icarus! Get down Icarus!" Draco called. A large owl flew down and landed on a perch near them. Harry handed Draco the letter and diary entries who slipped them in a harness around the owl. "This is important Icarus," Draco said. "Fly as swift as you can and send these to the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord alone. Do not return without his reply. Now go!" Icarus spread his wings and flew out of the Owlery.

The two teens turned to each other and smiled. "Harry," Draco breathed. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," Harry said. Draco closed the distance between them and kissed Harry fully, wrapping his arms around Harry and held him close as he gently took control of the kiss, and dominated his small Potter.

"Anyway," Blaise said as he and Jamie walked down the corridor hand-in-hand. "Slughorn's going to have a Christmas party, Jamie, and there's no way you and Harry will be able to wiggle out of this one because he actually asked me and Granger to check your free evenings, so he could be sure to have it on a night you two can come."

Jamie groaned. "Seriously Blaise? Couldn't you just try to lie to him?"

"Come on, it'll be fun I'm sure," Blaise said. "I'll keep you far away from Slughorn, I promise," he chuckled. "Besides there's going to be so many people there that I'm sure Slughorn will not even notice you and Harry."

"Oh he will, believe me," Jamie said.

"I'll make it worth your while," Blaise smirked. "Your heat is manageable today right?"

"Yeah, it's okay," Jamie said, flinching slightly at the heat that centered around his stomach. "Though I'm not getting what you're suggesting."

"Easy Jamie," Blaise smirked. "You be a good boy at the party, and Daddy Blaise might have a nice treat for you."

Jamie laughed. "'Daddy Blaise?' There's no way I'm calling you that. …But I guess it might be fun, I guess," he sighed. "Now why don't we head to Gryffindor Tower? I'm getting a bit tired. And I need to make sure I win our first Quidditch game"

"Of course my love," Blaise said. "I'll be cheering for you… until Slytherin naturally wins."

"As if," Jamie smirked.

The Quidditch match was a week later. Harry and Jamie were having breakfast with Ron and Hermione. The boys were all dressed in their Quidditch uniform, Ron had a bludger's bat across of him as he ate. "Do you really need to have that here?" Hermione asked, looking a bit distastefully at the bat.

"Fred and George did and they didn't lose a match," Ron shrugged. Colin moved down the table and latched onto Ron's hips. "Hey pup," Ron chuckled.

"I wanted to wish you good luck," Colin said, giving Ron a huge kiss that made the people around them blush and look away awkwardly. Ron wrapped a possessive arm around Colin and whispered something in Colin's ear that Harry thankfully couldn't hear. Colin slipped off of Ron's lap and kissed Ron's cheek before hopping back to his original seat.

Jamie cleared his throat. "It's nearly time," he said.

The frosty grass crunched underfoot as they strode down to the stadium. "Pretty lucky the weather's tis good, eh?" Harry asked Ron.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. He looked nervous, but excited as well. His skin was pale but he had a huge grin on his face. Ginny and Katie were already wearing their Quidditch robes and waiting in the changing room.

"Condition looks ideal," Ginny said. "And guess what? The Slytherin Chaser Vaisey—he took a Bludger in the head yesterday during their practice, and he's too sore to play!"

"That was their best goal scorer," Jamie said. "Looks like I'm going to have an easy time. Have fun chasing Malfoy, Harry." Jamie gave Harry a grin, which he returned. "Please all you do is sit on your broom and let the Quaffle bounce off your pecs, it's not really hard for you, is it?" Harry said.

Jamie laughed and flexed his muscles dramatically. "Alright boys, that's enough," Katie said. "Jamie we've got five minutes, any last-second speeches like Oliver?"

"No, I think we all know what we need to do," Jamie said. He looked at Harry and said, "You better not go light on Malfoy, Harry."

"It's Quidditch, I would never," Harry said.

They walked out onto the pitch to tumultuous roars and boos. One end of the stadium was solid red and gold; the other, a sea of green and silver. Many Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws had taken sides too: Amidst all the yelling and clapping Harry could distinctly hear the roar of Luna Lovegood's famous lion-topped hat.

Jamie stepped up to Madam Hooch, the referee, who was standing ready to release the balls from the crate.

"Captains, shake hands," she said, and Jamie had an even strong handshake with the new Quidditch captain, Urquhart. "Mount your brooms. On the whistle …three …two… one…"

The whistle sounded, Harry and the others kicked off hard from the frozen ground, and they were away. Harry soared around the perimeter of the grounds, looking around for the Snitch and keeping one eye on Draco, who was lollygagging below him. Then a voice that was jarringly different to the usual commentator's started up.

"Well, there they go, and I think we're all surprised to see the team that Potter's put together this year. It's no surprise to see he kept his brother and Ron Weasley, but of course, a close personal friendship with the Captain does help…"

These words were greeted with jeers and applause from the Slytherin end of the pitch. Harry craned around on his broom to look toward the commentator's podium. A tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose was standing there, talking into the magical megaphone that had once been Lee Jordan's; Harry recognized Zacharias Smith, a Hufflepuff player whom he heartily disliked.

"Oh, and here comes Slytherin's first attempt on goal, it's Urquhart streaked down the pitch and— Potter saves it! Well, he's bound to save one being as wide as he is!"

Harry looked down at Draco. "Oi!"

"What!"

Harry pointed at Smith and yelled, "Think it's around there!?"

They both had playful smirks as they took off towards the commentator's stand. "Looks like Potter and Malfoy spotted something they're on the move! They're neck to neck, coming closer and closer—but I guess Potter has an edge seeing how small—Ahh!" Smith ducked his head along with Professor McGonagall as Harry and Draco both flew dangerously close to them. "They almost ram into the commentator podium!" Smith yelled. "Do they know how to fly!?" The two circled back and acted as if they were chasing the Snitch, diving at Smith before pulling away at the last second and speeding off, both laughing at Smith's rants.

Harry gave Draco a thumbs-up and they returned to looking for the Snitch. With half an hour of the game gone, Gryffindor was leading sixty points to zero, Jamie had made some truly spectacular saves, some of which by the very tips of his gloves, and Ginny having scored four of Gryffindor's six goals, and Ron made sure to keep the Bludgers away from any of the Gryffindor Chasers. It was like they could do no wrong. This effectively stopped Zacharias wondering loudly whether the two Weasleys were only there because Jamie liked them, and he started on the other new Beater, Coote, instead.

"Of course, Coote isn't really the usual build for a Beater," Zacharias said loftily, "they've generally got a bit more muscle—"

"Hit a Bludger at him!" Harry called to Coote as he zoomed past, but Coote, grinning broadly, chose to aim the next Bludger at Vaisey instead, who was just passing Harry in the opposite direction. Harry was pleased to hear the dull thunk that meant the Bludger had found its mark.

They could do no wrong, Harry thought. Again and again they scored, and again and again, at the other end of the pitch, Jamie saved goals with apparent ease. He was smirking and started mocking the Slytherin Chasers. "Come on you lazy lot! Actually, throw one!" he yelled as he saved yet another goal.

"Your brother is a cocky person as usual," Draco yelled from his broom. Harry looked at Draco to reply only to see something glittering high above them. Without thinking Harry sped off towards it, Draco chasing after.

"Potter and Malfoy saw the Snitch!" Smith said through his microphone.

Harry accelerated; the wind was whistling in his ears so that it drowned all sound of Smith's commentary or the crowd, Draco somehow got ahead of him, and Gryffindor was only a hundred points up; if Draco got there first Gryffindor had lost …and now Draco was feet from it, his hand outstretched. …

"Oi! Draco! Let me win and there's a reward!" Harry yelled in desperation. He did not know what made him say it, but Draco did a double-take, he fumbled the Snitch, let it slip through his fingers, and shot right past it. Harry made a great swipe for the tiny, fluttering ball and caught it.

"YES!" Harry yelled. Wheeling around, he hurtled back toward the ground, the Snitch held high in his hand.

"Cheating bastard!" Draco laughed out of annoyance and mirth. As the crowd realized what had happened, a great shout went up that almost drowned the sound of the whistle that signaled the end of the game.

The Quidditch team left the pitch arm in arm, punching the air and waving to their supporters. The atmosphere in the changing room was jubilant. "You guys did it!" Hermione screamed as she ran in. Harry expected her to drag him, Jamie, and Ron into a group hug but was shocked to see her speed past them, latched onto Ginny, and kissed her then and there.

Malfoy Manor was a dark manor. Shades were pulled over most windows, the only sources of light being candles and fireplaces. There the Dark Lord called home, at least until he won the war. He was alone in what used to be Lucius Malfoy's study, sitting in an armchair looking over a letter and three parchments that looked to come from a diary. "This is interesting, isn't it Nagini?" he asked, stroking the large snake as it slithered over his shoulders. "To think that Harry Potter would become so… interesting. I believe I've took the wrong boy's blood," he chuckled to himself.

The Dark Lord eyed the memories. "Such intellect and skill to make these," he mused. "And the letter is as charmed as he said it would be. It appears that he is telling the truth. However, one cannot be too careful. A reply is required, I believe."

The Dark Lord picked up a quill and began to write in dark red ink. He smirked to himself at the thought of Harry Potter kneeling to him, showing his alliance openly to him not only through this one letter. "If he is true in his intentions, then this would be a simple request. However, it worries me, Nagini, how close Dumbledore seems to be. I will not let that old fool get in the way any longer. I believe it is almost time for a personal visit."

A/N: Lots of things happening in this one, but don't worry we're still a fair way from the true ending, Harry and Draco are just tying off some loose ends (read plot).

Littlesprout: Thanks and it's good you feel bad for Cormac, boy's been through a lot.

CloudZzFluffyBedsOfWhite: Draco and Blaise did take it too far but they are not done, nope not at all. And in this one… EVERYONE IS GAY lol. Why? Because I haven't done a story where everyone in the Golden Trio…Quartet is gay. And don't worry about Dumbledore, I have top men handling him. Top. Men.

Jokul Frosti: Yup.

AnnaMerteuil: Well if you truly blame and hate Cormac after last chapter, and a bit of this one, then you're a heartless.

Leopardblack: Fluff? If you call Harry and Draco planning both Dumbledore's and Voldemort's death, then yeah! Fluff abound!

I.C.2014: Don't worry love, the narration is with you.

. : I will make you have feelings that you never thought possible! …Except for those feelings cause I'm gay and, no offense to you, but that's nasty.