Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K Rowling.

A/N: Howdy fine folks! I hope y'all have had a good week. I must thank all of you for the comments again, truly, they are a joy to read, no matter if they're praise or criticism.

Have a good read!

Chapter 38: Moving Forwards

-Harry-

Seeing the Hogwarts express chug away in the distance filled me with something I couldn't describe. It was as if I was waking up in the middle of the night, and it was bright outside.

My entire body yearned to get on, except that my brain couldn't understand why.

Flashes of lounging with Ron and Hermione. Laughing with the others. Talking with Seamus and Dean when they dropped in. Saying goodbye to Angelina and Alicia for the foreseeable future.

The grounds were scorching hot under the sun, the grass had a sickly yellow colour to it.

Upon asking Dumbledore if I was allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the summer, I had expected a resounding 'no' and not much else. I had first believed him sarcastic when he said yes, but no, I was the first person in an undisclosed amount of time that was allowed to stay at the prestigious school over the vacation.

He hadn't said why, only citing that 'Hogwarts became so lonely during the summer'. I had the suspicion that he wanted to keep a closer eye on me. The accounts of what I had done to the aurors had without a doubt reached his ears.

The-

The funeral was in two weeks. I would go to the States two days before that. Sirius and Remus would accompany me. I had only seen Alice's father briefly in the flashes of memories after I just arrived back in Nanshu. His pain was something I could relate to, even if I hadn't lost a child.

I took out my wand and fiddled with it. It was looking pristine as ever, not a scratch in sight.

Letting out a deep breath, I moved the wand as if I was a conductor at an orchestra. Rocks and twigs rose around me and formed together to create a mighty eagle. With a flick of my wand, the eagle darted upwards and exploded in a shower of rocks.

I had to shield my head from the rain of rocks, yet something felt off. Doing magic couldn't get me to forget; I didn't even know what it was that I wanted to forget. It was more of a feeling I wanted to stop having, one that I couldn't name. One that lingered at the back of my mind, at the pit of my stomach. Only just making its presence known.

"Interesting choice of animal," a voice commented from behind me.

I smiled thinly but didn't say anything.

Dumbledore walked up to stand beside and observed the mess of stones around us. "My friend was just declared fit to leave Saint Mungos," the headmaster declared solemnly. "I would like to go and see him before-"

"-someone attacks him again?" I interrupted.

Dumbledore sighed. "Indeed, although I don't think he will be attacked by the same person."

I raised my eyebrows. "If Voldemort failed to kill him, he will try again." I chuckled humorlessly. "I'm rather acquainted with this fact, believe it or not."

The headmaster hummed thoughtfully. "You assume that Voldemort was the one that attacked him."

"Are you telling me it wasn't?"

"I don't know, Horace claims to have no memories of the attack, that isn't Voldemort's style."

"The no memories part or the letting live part?"

Dumbledore frowned. "Neither."

I paused. "Who else then?" My mind perused the different people I knew of which could fit the bill. Then it felt like a lock clicked open. "Could- Could it be the one armed man?"

Dumbledore turned to look at me, his lips pursed. "I have thought of the same. It is not a possibility we should discard, but there is very little linking the two together."

I shrugged. "Why is this Horace so important though? Why do you want him to meet me?"

Dumbledore smiled weakly. "He knows a lot of things, and he knew your parents."

My eyes were fixed on the metal trail the train had left mere moments ago, the air was overwhelmingly quiet. "I didn't know my parents, how is he supposed to help me with that?"

Dumbledore frowned and his blue eyes bore inte the side of my head. "We should get going."

-()-

-Draco-

The carriage drove over the gravel path, provoking a steady but comforting crackle. This short ride from the gates up to the house always felt special. I never travelled like this at any other time than the times I came home from Hogwarts. It was special for just this day, every year. Staring out over the grounds left me with feelings of nostalgia and excitement.

I let out a long breath and closed my eyes. Trying to think and not to think at the same time. My mind was a maze, but a maze that always ended up in the same place. At the same person. At the same picture.

The way there was always different, the hurdles, the trials and the challenges; all of them, different every time.

Potter had allowed Daphne to transfigure him. I was as certain of that fact as I was certain that the sun was warm. When I had spotted Potter, just before the final feast before the year was over, I had felt a ringing in my ears, like I had been in the middle of an explosion. My clothes suddenly felt tighter and the air incapable to be breathed.

I had told Daphne that I wanted Potter to die, that I wanted her to be free, that I wanted us to be together. I thought she had wanted the same, I wanted to belive that she wanted the same.

Yet that ugly fucking face -looking like a pig- told me the very opposite. It felt like someone had removed a pair of glasses I had been wearing. It felt like I was seeing the world properly for the first time in months. I had been obsessed with helping Daphne; to the extent that I had been putting my own life on hold.

That was done now; it was time to me to do what I wanted to do. It was time to do what was right.

It felt like a boat caught in the middle of the ocean. The currents were pulling me one way, and the wind was blowing me in another.

The current dragged me away from Daphne, telling me that she had betrayed me, that I should let her go, but every time the wind made its presence known, blowing me off into the opposite direction. The wind didn't use violence, it just told me of what awaited if I could get Daphne. Holding her hands in mine, running my hands through her hair, kissing her lips.

I knew Daphne better than almost anyone. Despite the fact that she struggled to speak, despite the fact that she refused to wear makeup, despite the fact that she barely had any friends, I liked her. I saw that she was great.

No one else did, no one else had.

If the contract didn't exist, I was sure that we would have been together, a couple, a pair. She liked me, right? Daphne had insinuated such.

And I liked her.

There shouldn't be a reason why the two of us were apart. It wasn't fair.

The boat tilted back and fourth on the ocean, going left and right, up and down, forwards and backwards.

The carrige screeched and came to a halt, sending me back to reality.

The door to the carrige swung open soundlessly, revealing the Malfoy Manor grounds. The gravel was white, like pearls. Fields of warm grass and bushes trimmed to perfection stretched as far was the eye could see. Positioned, perfectly symmetrically, in the middle of all that was the house. Black, polished wood with enraged gargoyles and opaque windows. I breathed in and out. The scent of wild flowers were hovering in the air, the scent of home.

Something was misising. There were no birds chirping in the distance, there were no owl coming and going, flapping their wings. No, it was quiet, void of life, despite the colour and the greenery.

I walked with brisk steps towards the door, fidgeting the the hem of my robe unconciously. My hand paused at the handle. I closed my eyes, took a deeo breath and opened the door.

It felt like walking inside a refrigerator, the air was icy and cruel.

"Draco!" my mother exclaimed and rose from her chair. She smiled widely, too widely. She approached me and enveloped me in a tight hug, like this would be the last oppertunity to do so. "We have a visitor," she whisperd in my ear. "In your father's office." Narcissa bit her lip nervously. "Your father is out, I have to tend to the Magnolias."

Actual meaning: The Dark Lord is here. You won't have any help.

My mother liked to do that, deliver bad news in bits and pieces, euphemisms.

"It's good to see you, mother," I said evenly.

Father's office was close to the entrance. The way there was crowded with statues, paintings and other valuable items; every time someone visited, they had to walk past those items and think 'wow, look at all this power'.

As a kid, I had wanted to stop by each and every item the few times I had the honour to visit the office. My eyes had been large as footballs admiring each and every one; the skull, the dagger, the book, the flower of steel, all of them.

Now I strided past with mechanical steps like they weren't even there.

This time I didn't pause on the handle, this time I didn't hesitate, but pressed the handle down firmly.

The Dark Lord was sitting in my father's seat, scribbling away. I stood frozen for a moment, unable to draw my eyes away from the precise yet savage movements of his wrist.

"Welcome," he said without looking up. "Take a seat."

I did so. It felt like the scratching against the parchment would never stop; my eyes were glued to my feet. Facing that pair of eyes terrified me.

The scratching sound ceased suddenly, leaving the room charged with silence.

"I won't keep you here long, Draco," the Dark Lord said. I dared to look up from the floor. "There is something you are going to do."

"What is it, my lord?" I whispered, my throat felt dry and coarse, like I hadn't used it in months.

"Most of my pieces are in position, Draco. The problem is the pieces on the other side of the board." The Dark Lord smiled thinly. "I have plans for some of them, but one pieces needs to be taken away, for good. I think you can guess which piece that is?"

"Potter," I said immediately.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Him too, but in due time."

"Dumbledore, then."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Indeed, and I belive that you can help me with this."

It felt like someone had squeezed my throat shut. I couldn't get words out.

"There is a vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts, in the Room of Requirement. You will mend it and get a couple of my friends inside. Then, you will kill Dumbledore."

It sounded simple, like it was something which could be done overnight and then never thought about again.

The Dark Lord observed me quietly.

I shivered in the chair, I had to clutch my legs to stop my hands from shaking.

"You don't want to do it," the Dark Lord said. Then he laughed, a laughter colder than the house could ever hope to be. "You're weak," he continued. "I thought you had some backbone, considering all of your business at school the past year." He shrugged and stood up. "Whether you want it or not is of little consequence. You will do it." He strided over and stopped in the doorframe. His sillouette was dark as the night; I couldn't see anything human in it. "I think I will take your mother with me. After Dumbledore is resting, she will return here, safe and sound. If Dumbledore still walks around by this time next year, she will stay with me for the rest of her short life."

He dissappeared soundlessly, like a predator leaving its prey to bleed to death.

I felt shattered.

He would take my mother and hold her hostage, all because of me.

I clenched my fists, but they were soft and weak, they couldn't punch anyone. I had to relax and do the mission, for my mother, for my family, for me.

I didn't matter that Hogwarts would be left fragile and vulnerable when Dumbledore died. I couldn't deal with losing one of the few people on my side.

After the meeting I walked around in the house. "Mother!" I shouted.

"Mother!"

"Mother!"

"Mother!"

The word echoed throughout the house, yet no clapping footsteps were heard.

No clapping footsteps would be heard for a long, long time.

-()-

-Harry-

Everything felt quiet and muted. The walls were white and lifeless; a fresh, minty scent hovered in the air.

Saint Mungos was about what I had expected for a hospital: bright, clean and entirely too depressing.

Dumbledore walked with long, confident steps to the elevator, I followed in his wake.

The man didn't look like much. At least not a first glance.

He was about as white as his sheets and a thin sweat laid on his brows. The man only had a couple of hairs left on his ageing, bald head.

The hospitalised man laid his eyes on us and scowled openly. "You think that will help?"

Dumbledore tilted his head. "Will it?"

"No!" the man exclaimed vehemently. "My answer won't change because of some boy."

I raised my eyebrows at his tone. Very few, if any, spoke to the headmaster in that manner, like he was pestering ministry official.

Dumbledore smiled thinly. "Good, we didn't come here to change your mind, in any case."

"Really?"

"Indeed, we want to ask you a few questions about what happened, Horace."

The man, Horace, rolled his eyes. "I've already told you everything I know."

"You haven't told me anything," the headmaster pointed out.

"Exactly! What about 'not remembering anything' is it that you don't understand?"

"Horace," Dumbledore began. "You said that you were in hiding before you were attacked, why?"

The man's eyes landed on me. "I am no fool, I know that the boy here is telling the truth. He wants me off the board, he didn't have the chance last time, with me at Hogwarts, but now…"

"I understand, don't you think it would be-"

"Why would Voldemort come after you?" I interrupted sharply, turning both pairs of eyes on me.

The man winced. "Please don't say the name." Horace chuckled weakly and plastered a smile on his face. "I am a good person, isn't that reason enough for him?"

I raised my eyebrows. "What have you done to be a 'good person' then?"

"Little bit of this and a little bit of that, helped some folks who needed help." The man paused with an absent look. "Your parents among them."

"And what happened to the people you helped?"

Horace set his beady, brown eyes on me with a levelling look. "It was war, boy. Don't claim to know what it is like."

"Yet you haven't named anything you have done in the war. What have you done to have Voldemort personally looking for you?"

"That's enough, Harry," Dumbledore broke in. "Mr. Slughorn has helped me plenty, and others too."

I shrugged and sat down in a chair.

Slughorn was glaring at me. "Was this your plan?" the man asked incredulously. "Get your apprentice here to come and insult me."

"No," Dumbledore admitted. "I was hoping you could tell us the truth."

"Albus! I haven't lied to you!"

"But you have omitted some truths, I believe."

The man didn't answer.

"Okay," I began with a small smile. "We'll give you a deal."

Slughorn glared at me. "I won't be persuaded by simple favours or money."

I shrugged. "Nothing like that. Merely, if you give us what we want: you will be allowed to stay at Hogwarts over the year."

The man barked out a loud laugh. "Are you a fool, boy?"

I raised my eyebrows. "Not at all." I smiled thinly. "It's just that you have ended up in the hospital once, why not again? Surely Voldemort would have wanted to finish his mission."

"It wasn't…" the man cut off quickly.

"It wasn't Voldemort?" I guessed. "Who was it then?"

The man clenched his fists. "I don't know!" he shouted. "I've told you."

"So how can you know it wasn't him?" I pressed.

The man glared at me. "I am alive, and I haven't been put under the cruciatus either."

"That doesn't sound like him," I conceded, remembering my own brief encounter with the dark lord.

"Indeed," Dumbledore cut in. "So who could it be?"

None of us had an answer.

I cleared my throat. "Then my offer just becomes even better for you," I said. "No one can break into Hogwarts, if you have not just one, but two powerful wizards after you…" I trailed off.

Slughorn sighed. "Hogwarts isn't unbreakable. Just see what went on there last year, all that stuff with the aurors and that Umbridge woman."

"The difference is that neither of us was there last year," I continued. "Having the two of us close would make you safe against just about anyone."

The man scowled. "You seem to think quite highly of yourself, boy."

I shrugged. "Well, this boy did come to the final of the 'Duelling Days'."

"A competition with rules," Slughorn said with a scoff. "There, you can just run and cry to a referee and you will be safe."

"Just about the same way you run and cry to Dumbledore the second you get attacked, then."

"Harry," Dumbledore interjected. "Please remain civil."

I nodded curtly but sent a blistering glare at the hospitalised man.

"We shall leave you," Dumbledore said to Slughorn. "If you do not want to come, you won't come," he continued. "Good luck in the future."

The man muttered something in reply and we left through the door.

"That went well," I remarked.

"I think it did," my headmaster replied calmly. "His owl should come within a week."

"You think he will change his mind?"

"I know he will," Dumbledore answered. "Mr. Slughorn is many things, but stupid isn't one of them. Your offer is more than advantageous for him." The old headmaster smiled warmly. "Although I must remind you that you do not hold any authority over who is employed at Hogwarts and not."

I inclined my head. "Yes, sir." I paused. "So what subject will he teach?"

"Potions," Dumbledore said. "Snape takes defence."

I chuckled and shook my head. "That ought to be fun."

Dumbledore smiled serenely. "If I have understood Professor Snape correctly, he will make sure that you return back to earth next year."

"Good luck to him," I said nonchalantly.

The headmaster hummed. "Snape would beat you in a fight, Harry, don't forget that."

"I'm sorry sir, but what will he teach next year? Stupefy? Both of us know that I am far too good for that class."

"But you still don't have a single OWL," the headmaster reminded me. "You never did the exams, on paper, you are the worst student in the year."

"But in reality, I am better than the rest of them combined."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Be careful to not grow too arrogant."

I chuckled, remembering my own master's words. "It's not arrogance, it's confidence."

"Some would argue that those two are the same thing."

"Then they are idiots," I said simply. "I am better than my peers at fighting, that's not an opinion, that's an indisputable fact."

"Perhaps that is the case," Dumbledore conceded. "Yet you remain ineligible to attend Hogwarts as a sixth year student, you have not taken your O. ."

"You won't let me attend? In that case, I'll just do them over the summer or something."

"I'd recommed that you do, but I won't force you to, I am merely pointing out that your future is looking darker and darker for every moment."

"I've prioritised living over grades," I said. "Would you have wanted me to do otherwise?"

"I can't fault you for putting all your time towards improving," he responded sadly. "But I fear for what consequences it will have in the future."

"If I have a future."

The headmaster stopped. "You will win, Harry. You must believe it to be true."

I shook my head. "No, I must become good enough for it to be true."

-()-

-Hermione-

Greengrass and Harry. An image of the two of them together had been stuck in my mind.

Were they…dating?

"No!" my mind would scream afterwards. '

There was no way they were together. Yet something must be between them, that would be the reason Harry humiliated her in their duel. But what?

And how had the situation gone from bad to good after the…incident in Umbridge's office. It certainly didn't seem like they were on good terms then.

I didn't know who to talk to. Realistically, there was no one who was closer to Harry than me and Ron. Sirius perhaps, maybe Dumbledore.

That girl would know, the infamous girl who had been a great topic of discussion since an article was posted in 'Witch Weekly' where the two of them were seen together.

Harry had even spent a short time of his Christmas holiday with her.

That raised the question, are Harry and she dating?

Or rather, were they?

It wasn't possible that Harry would go from one to the next that quickly, right?

That American girl had died. I hoped I knew Harry well enough to know that he would be affected by that.

I wished I could have spoken to that girl, if only once. She had been with Harry for the better part of the year, if Harry had some relationship with Greengrass, she must have noticed. Unless she was the one dating Harry.

The whole situation left me confused, it was like trying to piece a puzzle together with pieces that were snarky and twisting. I came to realise I knew nothing about Harry.

I had no idea how he became so incredibly good at magic, for he was. I studied hard and wasn't even remotely close to him.

I had no idea about his social life either.

He must have someone he put his trust in, right?

Was that, now dead, girl his confidante?

It was possible, but Harry had knocked her out of the tournament. It wouldn't explain how he learnt so much.

And Harry showed signs of improvement during the Triwizard Tournament the year before.

Everything began when he went down into the chamber, then he started slipping away.

A chilling sensation came upon me. No one except Harry had been in the chamber.

Apart from one person, one person I could ask.

How hadn't I thought about this before?

If there was some grand secret Harry had used down in the chamber she would know.

She was the only one who could know.

-()-

-Harry-

America was supposed to be the land of dreams, the land of opportunity.

Yet I felt the complete opposite from the second I set foot on the new continent. Walking inside the floo station, checking in to the hotel, trudging towards the church, I felt nothing but constricted. It felt like I was walking in one huge prison; a prison for those who never were able to go anywhere, a prison for those who should, but couldn't. Every bush, every lamppole, ever street I wandred, I couldn't help but ask if Alice had done the same. Had she ever looked on one of these bushes and liked it?

It was insignificant, I shouldn't matter, but for some reason it did. Everything was naught but a reminder of everything Alica had lost, everything Alice had been robbed.

Sirius and Remus led me around the Church, making me wish condolences to the distraught father. All of it went by as if in a flash, I couldn't remember a single face; the only face I could remember was the abscense of one. Her father was shaking by the cascet, tears streaming down. There was no trace of a mother.

I had no idea why there was no mother.

Another thing I would never know, another thing about Alice i would never find out.

I wished I was like her. I wished that I asked as many questions as she did. Then, I wouldn't be sitting like a complete stranger during the ceremony, I wouldn't feel like an intruder.

I refused to let myself cry. I didn't deserve.

Her father had lost, her grandmother had lost. I had decided to leave her; I couldn't cry when she left me too -I didn't deserve it.

A single, small part of me wanted to forget her, just to be rid of that void inside of me. A void that hadn't even existed a year ago.

Yet every other ounce of my being refused to forget her. If I forgot her, I would forgot what it felt to lose someone.

I deserved to feel pain for what I did.

But more importantly, I needed to feel pain for what was to come.

-()-

Four days after the ceremony, when the casket was safe in the ground, I found myself standing by her grave, staring at the stone like her face would emerge from it any moment.

It never did, the stone didn't smile, the stone didn't joke and the stone didn't ask any questions. The stone felt disrespectful, sitting there with her name. How could something so blank and bland ever wish to encompass her.

I heard someone clear their throat behind me.

I whipped around, my hand clutched around the warm wood of my wand.

Alice's grandmother was standing a few metres behind me, a boqouet of flowers in her hands. I stepped aside quietly and allowed her some peace. I sent one last look at the stone, knowing that I would be back at this place; to remind myself of the pain, to remind myself of what I had to prevent in the future.

Not for the first time, I clenched my fist and had to fight the urge to get to Nanshu and get justice.

Those three who killed her were alive, but imprisoned hundreds of metres under the tree, inside the thickest roots. I had dreamed about tearing their limbs off, flaying them slowly but surely, then chopping their head off like they were nothing.

But every time my thoughts strayed down that path, Alice would return to the grave with her last words. She would tell me that I should put myself first, that I should try to be happy.

Killing wouldn't make me happy, so I didn't do it.

If there was one thing in this world in which was important, it was keeping that promise. She had given her life for it.

As I closed the gate to the cemetary behind me I looked back one last time.

My eyes didn't stare at the gravestone, but into the past. That was where I would have to look.

That was the only place I could look.

-()-

-??????-

The small shack in the woods didn't look like much. Yet I could feel the magic radiating off like it was a dying star. There was a dead snake pinned to the door, staring at me with a Basilisk's fervour.

I opened the door with a flick of my wand.

No one was inside. The mold was running rampant and a thick layer of dust covered everything.

My eyes were subconsciously drawn to a small box on the table.

This should be the next one.

I opened the box with another flick of my wand. The protective enchantments died in an instant.

It was empty.

I stared at the inside, feeling around for any trickery.

In the end, I concluded that it wasn't there.

Someone had come here before me. Who?

I sighed. There was only one person who could have done it.

Hogwarts' headmaster.