In Willing Sacrifice

by GeMerope

When Harry Potter has the opportunity to erase Voldemort before the Dark Lord can resurrect, he finds out that walking a fine line between his own morality and the good of this world is more complicated than Harry could have ever imagined. Slow Burn, eventual HPLV.

71. C71 - Lessons in Humility

I hope that you are all healthy and safe. Thank you very much for the continued support.

Extra thanks to new reader mookiee, who left a ton of reviews. I appreciate it, even though I cannot reply to any of them as you weren't logged in.

Without further ado,
Enjoy!

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Chapter seventy-one - Lessons in humility

As it turned out, Harry would not have had time on Sunday evening himself either to meet up with Draco. It had been so long that Harry almost hadn't expected another, he mused while unrolling the short scroll of parchment with Dumbledore's signature at the bottom. After flat-our refusing another lesson about a month ago, he'd thought that the Headmaster might have given up. Really, what had Dumbledore been thinking, trying to initiate a talk about Voldemort right after finally giving out some info on the Dursley's murder – after everyone else, no less.

Despite everything, it awoke his curiosity. Would this really only be another lesson, or would Dumbledore finally reveal a bit about the ongoing custody case? There hadn't been news about it from any end. Sirius didn't know anything besides what he'd already revealed and Voldemort had been pettily dismissive last night. Even regarding the timeframe where Harry could expect something to happen, there was nothing to go on apart from Sirius' vague guess of 'a month'. Well, that month was already over now… Would it come to a close before Easter? What if not? Would the Ministry employees currently responsible for Harry force him to stay at Hogwarts? That would trash quite a few of his plans. He hadn't actually spoken to anyone personally, hadn't even received a single letter about the whole ordeal. It didn't exactly inspire confidence.

In careful hope of answers, Harry climbed the spiral staircase to the Headmaster's office. It hadn't changed a bit visually, but he somehow had the feeling that it was louder than before. Upon entering, Harry threw a disturbed look at the rows of puffing and whistling instruments.

''My apologies for the noise,'' Dumbledore answered the unspoken question. ''The Dementors are too close to the castle. It disturbs the readings as my apparatuses rightfully identify those creatures as hostile enemies. I can give you a delightful pair of earmuffs?'' he gestured to a basket on the desk with fluffy earmuffs that Harry had last worn when re-potting Mandrakes. That seemed eons ago.

''I can handle it,'' he answered, sitting down on the usual chair while throwing a glance at the empty perch behind Dumbledore. Maybe Fawkes was trying to avoid all the noise. ''You wanted to speak to me… is this about Voldemort? Or the Dursleys?''

The Headmaster sighed and stroked his beard. ''A bit of both, I admit. If you do not mind, I would like to speak first about the issue regarding your guardianship. As the Ministry is involved, Professor Umbridge tried her best to withhold any post sent to you.''

''What?'' Harry exclaimed, sitting straighter.

''It is sadly well within her right to interfere. Whether actively holding the position or not, she's still considered Senior Undersecretary of the Minister of Magic. That gives her quite a few rights over the information sent out by her inferiors. As merely the head of your school, I cannot overrule that decision. No-one explicitly forbade me however…'' the man opened the upper desk drawer and withdrew a small stack of envelopes, ''from making copies,'' he smiled. ''I fear that if I had not, you wouldn't know what you were in for.''

Nervously, he accepted the offered letters. Harry was oddly touched by the gesture. Dumbledore hadn't needed to go out of his way to do this. In fact, the man might have profited from Harry being left in the dark.

The other hummed and peered over his half-moon spectacles. ''You seem to be a popular choice for a family addition. I wonder why,'' the man joked. ''As you may see from these letters, there are two viable parties who wish to take guardianship over you. So far, the Ministry could not be convinced that one has a significant advantage over the other.''

Despite his nerves, Harry expected the letters to contain very little information he didn't know already. The first few proved him right. He acted shocked nonetheless. It would be easier if he could pretend in this case as well that Sirius had told him everything, but as post was much too unsafe nowadays and his godfather didn't want anyone to know of the two-way mirrors, that excuse wasn't useable. After some informative writing about his current rights regarding legal custody and physical custody came an impossibly long list of all families who'd expressed an interest. The most uplifting thing that Harry had seen all day was that the Weasleys had apparently been among the first few to ask. It looked like the Welfare Office had had more than a couple of field days. The list ended with 'Tonks' and 'Malfoy'. They clearly hadn't even bothered to note down any further candidates after. The third letter contained a statement that all but the Tonks' and the Malfoys had been disqualified. Harry thought the wording was a bit odd, as if this was a tournament of sorts.

What bugged Harry most, was that all of this was written as set statements. ''They're not asking for my opinion, are they?''

''Children are hardly ever involved in their own rights and duties,'' the Headmaster sagely spoke.

You would know, Harry sourly thought, yet kept from voicing it.

''What is your opinion?''

A bit confused, the teen looked up into worried blue eyes, careful to keep his Occlumency shields up with full force. Either Dumbledore was an outstanding actor, or was genuinely feeling sad. Harry didn't like either option, nor was he willing to take a gamble. Maybe it was due to guilt of putting a baby on the Durlsleys' doorstep of all families to choose from. Yes, that might be it. ''I… don't know,'' he answered, looking down at the letters. ''With 'Tonks' I assume they mean Andromeda, not Nymphadora? Sirius told me about his cousin. She seems… nice. However, I've never interacted with her in my life, nor with her husband. And the Malfoys… Draco turned out better than his dad at least, having a brother wouldn't be too bad. I can't imagine what living with Lucius is like though, and I don't know Narcissa.'' Granted, he'd met the woman before, but one could hardly call a few exchanged sentences at a party 'knowing' someone.

''Do you know why these two families especially are being considered?''

Fidgeting a bit, Harry decided to tell the truth. That he'd needed to have his nose pushed on the fact by Sirius didn't mean that he couldn't – or shouldn't – have known after seeing the Black family tapestry. ''Both are related to me, and I guess that fits with the Ministry's ideals of a perfect custody option?''

''More or less. It's not the only criterium being considered, but they are equal when it comes to the other criteria. Harry… I also wanted to talk to you about this as you may not be aware of all the facts. Within Hogwarts, it is easy to forget what is out there.'' Right, of course there was a plan behind this. Dumbledore would not have simply copied these letters for Harry's benefit alone. ''Voldemort has returned, as much as the Ministry denies this. The Order and I are absolutely certain that this is the truth, as Sirius may have told you over the holidays. You as well should have realised latest after your unfortunate visions of his familiar.'' The teen tensed up at the memory, balling his hands into fists. Uncut nails stung sharply into his palms. ''Your friendship with Draco Malfoy is good for him, but his parents are… a lost cause. Bluntly spoken, they are firmly loyal to Voldemort and I would not be surprised if they've already been called to his side. Even the thought of them gaining custody over you makes me fear for your safety. There is no guarantee that they will not instantly hand you over to their master instead. Do you understand that?''

Harry didn't reply, unable to muster up enough fake hatred for either Voldemort or the Malfoys.

''Harry, do you understand?'' the old man asked again. ''I realise that you might be tempted to spend the holidays with a friend instead of strangers that you've never met, but this is a matter of life and death. Voldemort's followers are fanatics, always were. They will stop at nothing to fulfil his plans, which includes going after you.''

''Why?'' he asked suddenly, taking the other aback. ''Why do you think he'll go after me? For he hasn't until now. He went after my parents and… and I guess he tried to kill me to get rid of everyone there, but that was it. In my first year, I was unlucky enough to unknowingly go after him, and even with the whole debacle involving the Chamber with Secrets, I wasn't in danger until I decided to search for Ginny. She was the one who was in real peril there.''

''You may recall that this danger was smuggled into Hogwarts by none other than Lucius Malfoy,'' Dumbledore calmly replied.

Damn, Harry should probably not have mentioned that. He tried to adjust his arguing: ''Nonetheless, it was not a case of Voldemort being after me. Yes, there was a crazy Death Eater who tried to get me killed last year, but there's no evidence that he did so on Voldemort's orders. I haven't seen the man since I was eleven. So… so I don't know what we are doing here. Why you insist on showing me memories of his past, or say that I cannot get involved with certain people in fear of them dropping me at his feet. I have no evidence that he's at all interested in my life.''

''Lily's sacrifice connects you,'' Dumbledore said, looking even a bit more worried now than before. ''Why do you think that you could see into the mind of his pet? Or why your scar hurts?'' This explanation made Harry angry in turn. Would it absolutely kill the Headmaster to finally explain the real reason? What was so horrible about Harry knowing of the Prophecy that had been made?

''It hasn't hurt in years,'' he dismissively spoke. Without waiting for a reply, Harry scraped every bit of exhaustion from the previous months together and let it show on his face. Who needed acting skills when living such a stressful life? ''Professor, I appreciate your concern, and I'll take your advice about the Malfoys to heart,'' he agreed. ''I'm sorry for being stubborn before. It's just… a lot. Everything. At the start of this year, Fred and George warned me about getting ill and fainting from the pressure of the O.W.L.s. I hadn't expected having to deal with Professor Umbridge, after-class hours with Snape, extra lessons about Voldemort to save me from impending doom and the death of my relatives on top of that. Honestly, the Triwizard Tournament was nothing compared to this,'' he chuckled weakly.

Concerned, Dumbledore reached out and patted the back of his hand. ''I apologise for burdening you so much, my boy. I wouldn't if I did not consider it of the utmost importance.'' He appeared to hesitate for a moment, then withdrew one more envelope. ''This one arrived this morning. It's not entirely true that the Ministry is not considering your opinion, although they don't appear to hold it in highest priority.''

Frowning, Harry accepted and opened it. There was no need to fake shock when reading the contents now. ''A court order?'' he asked.

''It's become a civil dispute. Neither candidate was willing to concede their case, so they'll have to battle it out in front of the Wizengamot. You are called upon as a witness. One of many. From what I gathered, it was Dolores' intention that you would only find out after the event had taken place as she disagrees with minors having a say in such important matters. I don't share that view.''

If he fundamentally disagreed, Harry wondered why the Headmaster hadn't placed this letter with the others, instead only handing it over once fishing for Harry's opinions and getting a say in them to attempt to sway him. Would the letter have remained locked away if Harry had shown less cooperation? It was a worrisome thought. Nonetheless, he did owe Dumbledore, as infuriating that was.

''I appreciate it,'' he spoke, reading the court order over once more. It was set for Wednesday the 27th of March, half past ten in the morning. ''This is in ten days!'' he asked in shock, stomach turning. How was he supposed to prepare with everything else going on? Ten days! Trying to control his breathing, the teen tried to think of more practical aspects rather than only his fears over how close it was. ''Erhm, this will be in London, right?'' he asked hesitantly. ''How will I be able to attend? Can I use the floo or…'' Another concern was that Umbridge would not be very happy upon finding out that he was leaving the castle against her wishes, and that he somehow had gained wind of being called upon as a witness. Was she even allowed to hide that from him though? Sure, she was high up in rank and had power over the Welfare office, but the Wizengamot was a separate organ.

''I will personally accompany you there and see to it that you arrive timely and safely,'' Dumbledore spoke. ''I'm afraid that I am not allowed to be present, since my position as Chief Warlock was revoked. Cornelius still refuses to believe my theories about Voldemort are anything more than fearmongering… However, I have a few people I'd like to visit in London that day. If you need any advice, do ask.'' Harry mutedly shook his head. He'd need to come up with a strategy for sure, but doubted that listening to Dumbledore would help in that regard. ''Then moving onto different matters… Voldemort. Whether you can see it or not, I am certain of his ill-natured intentions regarding you. He is not a man who would let a failed murder slip by, nor one to let go of revenge. You were the cause for his demise, for having to live as a spirit for years in an excruciating existence while all he'd built up crumbled.''

Dumbledore's words didn't have the effect they most likely were meant to, as all it made Harry feel was the need to crawl in a hole and die of shame for doing that to the Dark Lord. It was truly miraculous that Voldemort had forgiven him and wasn't hell-bent on enacting vengeance.

''In short, you have to be wary nonetheless. Sooner or later, he will no longer leave you in peace,'' he predicted. ''I wish to give you as much information about him as I can right now, for I fear the day is fast approaching that I cannot stop Professor Umbridge from advancing anymore. I'd like to ask you to be brave and delve at least once more into Voldemort's past with me. As you know, finding people willing to open up about Tom Riddle at any point in his life are rare. But I did find some more after thorough searching during the past months. A positive point about Professor Umbridge's dislike for me is that she doesn't question my lack of presence,'' the man spoke with a hint of cheeriness.

Knowing that he was unable to deny it without becoming suspicious, Harry tried to concentrate on the positive aspects of this. As much as it felt like intruding, he couldn't say that gaining insight on Voldemort's previous life was not interesting. At his affirmative nod, the Headmaster went to get the Pensieve.

Harry fell through the silver substance, landing in a cramped room. In it sat an old woman on a wicker chair. The rest of the room held a bed, a small sink and some medical equipment. Plus, two identical Dumbledores.

''I thought I'd do us both a favour,'' the one closest whispered with a smile. ''Her memory is rather difficult to navigate when not knowing where to look, so I'll simply show you our talk. This is Ms Hetty Kellis, she went to the same orphanage as Tom did. She's two years younger than him.''

Harry had preferred not to know that. She looked much, much older, with a face full of wrinkles and shaky hands. It was rather confrontational to see what had become of a Muggle around the same age as Voldemort, compared to the man himself.

''He always talked about going back to that spot,'' Ms Kellis spoke, her voice sounding floaty. ''That one trip fascinated Tom more than everyone else, I think. The raw force of the sea, the idea of dark caverns underneath… Two of my friends claimed that he took them down to one of those caves, but I didn't believe them. How could he have? It was a steep drop of two-hundred feet.''

''How often did he talk about it?''

''Oh, hard to say. He did mention it more often than other topics for certain. He always had this way of speaking where you could never be sure if what he said was interesting or threatening, you know? It was difficult not to listen when he spoke, but it felt almost sinful. Because of that, I tried not to interact much if I could help it. No-one did. But we listened… he told tales of people throwing themselves off those cliffs and returning as drowned men, and of moving earth that could swallow an unwitting human. He always spoke so distantly of humans, now I mention it… almost as if he didn't count himself as one of us.'' She shivered. ''But enough about Riddle, I sometimes prefer to pretend he was never there. Now good old Eugene, that was a lad I'd like to talk about some more...

More confused than anything, Harry abruptly emerged from the Pensieve as the memory was cut off. At his look, Dumbledore explained: ''Ah, I tried searching out a few Muggles who'd attended the same orphanage during that time. Whenever I asked about Tom Riddle, they simply shut down. Ms Kellis was the only one who said a few enlightening words, but only during an extensive conversation about every single child who'd stayed there during her time at Wool's. I thought I'd spare you the remaining two hours of talking. Unsurprisingly, she had much more to say about everyone else.''

''And what was so… enlightening about this?'' Harry asked.

Dumbledore folded his hands and stared into the Pensieve. ''This was the second time that this trip was mentioned. You may recall my first visit to the orphanage, when Mrs Cole warned me about Tom Riddle's odd behaviour. She mentioned that two children had followed Tom into a cave and weren't quite the same afterwards. That was the same summer outing as Ms Kellis referred to. As much as Voldemort tries to distance himself from his past, he also hangs onto it in a way. The diary was one indication for that. The visits to his family another. If this trip fascinated him so much as a child, don't you think that he would have returned if having the chance later in life? Caves are… an interesting hiding place, perhaps.''

Harry could see where Dumbledore was going, and it was frightening how correct the Headmaster was. A cave at the seaside… talks of people returning as drowned corpses. Harry could not be completely sure, but this sounded very much like the dreary, dark place with a room full of corpses that Kreacher had described to Regulus as the hiding place of the Locket. Naturally, it wasn't there anymore, and neither was the fake one as Barty had removed it when trying to gather all of the Horcruxes. That did little to ease his mind. ''Did Ms Kellis say anything about where this cave is?''

''I only have a rough location,'' Dumbledore admitted. ''She was a young child and it was a very long time ago, but I doubt the orphanage would have had a large budget for these summer outings, especially during such difficult times as the years leading up to another war. It shouldn't be too far from London. The main challenge in finding it is that most of the eastern and southern coast nearby have steep cliffs, from Kingsdown near Dover to Saltdean. Not all two-hundred feet high of course, but whether we can trust Ms Kellis' estimations is questionable. Now, do you have an idea as to what he could use a cave for?''

''You mentioned a hiding place… and during our previous talk, you said that you didn't think Voldemort would have put the prized possessions he stole in a trophy room.'' Dumbledore nodded encouragingly. ''But why?'' Harry asked, finding it a more than reasonable question. Without any background knowledge, none of it made sense.

''I have one more memory, which may clear some details up. I had a version of it before already, but that one had unfortunately been tampered with. It was a stroke of pure luck that I obtained the full memory, considering that the owner of this died more than a year ago.''

''But you said that you only obtained these memories recently,'' Harry mentioned, truly confused now.

Dumbledore nodded slowly. ''I did. Even before Horace's death, I asked him, begged him to give me any memories of Voldemort that could be important. At first he refused, said there was nothing. After much convincing, he gave me a poorly modified version back then. Barely useable. Horace always was rather scared of hurting his image. Afraid of his own shadow, that man, yet fierce in jumping to his own defence if anyone tried to show him in a bad light. Unbeknownst to me, my old friend was smart enough to follow through on my request after all, at least in the sense that he made a copy of the true memory. I found it during my most recent travels, when tracking down a few places where he used to stay at in a blind hope of finding anything useable. He was one of the few people that I believe Tom Riddle looked up to at one point. Enough to use him for information at least, which could be considered a form of compliment when it comes to Tom. Enough talking, let's get to this.''

He poured 'this' into the bowl, gesturing for Harry to go ahead, who delved into the memory with a healthy amount of wariness.

Once again, they landed in a small room, yet this one was far less sterile and Muggle as Ms Kellis' had been. They were at Hogwarts, in an unfamiliar office filled to the brim with expensive paraphernalia. In its middle lounged a large man in a comfortable armchair, feet up on a pouffe and a glass of wine in his hands. Around him sat various students, all Slytherins judging by the colour of their ties. Harry's eyes were drawn instantly to the most handsome of them all. Voldemort was leaning in close to the older man – one of the professors, surely – a smile playing on his lips. Harry had to fight himself to not try to get a closer look.

Apart from that devilish smile, Harry noticed one more detail, a black and gold ring on Voldemort's finger, an indication as to what year it was. He'd visited Morfin already then, which had been during the summer before sixth year... Indeed, Voldemort strikingly resembled the diary-Horcrux, which had been created not long after. Harry listened in silence to the exchanged conversation about the retirement of a certain Professor Merrythought and watched the admiration on the faces of the other five boys each time Voldemort spoke.

The praise that this Horace gave and Voldemort's rebuttal made Harry think. Minister of Magic within fifteen years huh… It would have been a very different path indeed. Would the current Dark Lord have fit in that role? He certainly was cunning and charming enough, but the man would have missed out on all of the experience he got after Hogwarts. The travels abroad, studying under different masters, was a major aspect in creating the gaping rift between Voldemort's level and that of the average mage. It could not all be chalked up to being Magic's Chosen. The Dark Lord had worked himself to the bone to dig up every little secret within grasp. Caught up in politics, especially when constantly having to battle against his own background, Voldemort wouldn't have commanded nearly as much respect from the people he thought worth saving.

The other students left, only Voldemort staying behind with a burning question.

Horcruxes… The moment that the word left the lips of this memory-Voldemort, Harry turned towards his Professor, having mixed feelings. After all this time, the Headmaster had finally revealed a piece of crucial information that Harry hadn't thought he'd ever receive. As Voldemort and Horace kept speaking, Harry listened rapidly to each word. The only surprising news was that this method of immortality was apparently not such a well-kept secret as Harry had always imagined it to be if a Hogwarts Professor knew of them. Somehow, the teen had envisioned Voldemort coming across the ritual in some ancient Necromancer tomb, not during an after-dinner party at school.

Grudgingly, Harry admired the way that Voldemort perfectly manipulated the Professor with his stance and tone of voice. Just enough hesitation and carefully controlled expressions that only hinted at mere professional curiosity instead of the true drive that lay behind. How difficult had managing that been, with the promise of uncovering such coveted knowledge hovering just a few sentences away? The Locket-Horcrux had been years older than the version in this memory, yet had been far less subtle. Perhaps it was due to splitting his soul that some of that ability had been lost…

A knot formed in his chest when the number of Horcruxes was discussed. So, Dumbledore really had found all the pieces to Voldemort's secret now. His method of immortality, the number of his vessels, most of the objects that had been turned into them, and lastly hints at the locations several of them had been kept in. Although it had taken decades to figure out, Voldemort had not covered his trail well enough. Gathering the Horcruxes and keeping them close really had been the best call that the Dark Lord could have made, who knew how many Dumbledore might already have found otherwise.

As they emerged from the Pensieve, he mulled on what this meant. The teen hadn't expected that it would ever come to this anymore. When Dumbledore had started showing memories of all the items that Voldemort had gathered in his past, yes. But with the passing of time, Harry had thought of many different explanations why Dumbledore did not wish to open up about this information.

Why now? And why with this? It was no secret to Harry that the old man had already known of the existence of Voldemort's Horcruxes. They'd started viewing these memories over a year ago. So what did this prove? Did Dumbledore think that his word was not enough to convince Harry? More importantly, could this endanger the Horcrux latched onto his own soul? So many questions… the only one who could surely answer them wasn't known for being forthcoming.

At Dumbledore's expectant look, Harry carefully summarised: ''So clearly, Voldemort made these Horcruxes… multiple of them. It explains why he was able to survive after the Killing Curse backfired. I doubt that the 'horrible price' deterred him after killing the Riddles. When he is talking about splitting his soul into seven pieces… that means he made six Horcruxes?'' he asked, knowing full well that wasn't the case.

''That was likely his intention,'' Dumbledore smoothly responded. ''Whether he managed it so often or not remains to be seen, but all evidence points towards it. I suspected for a while that he went so far as to tear his soul up, but could only guess as to the number of times he did so. Each time I found memories that pointed towards more, I grew more concerned. At first I theorised he'd made three, then five… it is good to have certainty now, yet it is also terrifying to realise how much of his own soul Voldemort was willing to sacrifice in this insane quest for immortality.''

''When you talk about evidence, you mean the objects these memories centred around?''

''Exactly.''

Recalling which memories Dumbledore had already shown, Harry counted: ''So there is Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup, which he got from Smith, and the Gaunt family ring he stole from his uncle… that makes three so far.''

Dumbledore gave an acknowledging nod. ''Those are not the only ones you have seen. If you can recall, you have encountered an object before, which claimed to be Voldemort. Something which could think on its own and stole the force of life itself for power.''

''The diary.'' So that was why Dumbledore had mentioned it before.

''Catching on quickly. Exactly, the diary. And that particular one also gives me hope.'' Dumbledore leaned forward, robes rustling as he did so. Peering over his spectacles, he spoke in a hushed tone: ''For you see, after you brought back that book from the Chamber of Secrets, I had plenty of times to study it. However much soul it used to contain… it is nothing more now than a destroyed diary with blank pages. Not a trace of soul left. Fighting an immortal man is an endless, hopeless fight, but we now know that what ties him to this earth is not indestructible. It is like a cobweb that holds a spider up in the air. Right in the middle of its web, it is in an ideal position of power. Snap enough threads and it tumbles to the ground, vulnerable. Of course, after destroying the various Horcruxes, there is still Voldemort himself to worry about and facing him is no mean feat. Even as a mortal man, he is a relentless foe. Yet I firmly believe that it is possible. There is truly no point in trying to stop him before ridding the world of these abominations beforehand. He'd rise again as long as even a single one remains.''

Harry looked away, feeling strangely distant. Throughout all of Voldemort's and Barty's talks, after all the second-hand evidence gathered and logical conclusions drawn, there was still a part of him that hoped he'd been wrong all along. That all of this had been a great misunderstanding. But here he sat opposite Dumbledore, who told him straight to the face that all Horcruxes had to be destroyed without batting an eyelash, while knowing what Harry was. There was no doubt about that for certain, with all the hushed talk among the Order about Harry's strange link and the curse scar.

He wouldn't go down without a fight.

''So is that why I am here?'' the teen heard himself mechanically speak. ''To draw up a plan to hunt down these Horcruxes?''

''Essentially. I do not have final evidence yet as to all objects that were used, which is why the specific number is still a mystery even if we can generally assume he meant to create six.'' The wording was once again not lost to the Gryffindor. ''The best lead we have for a possible hiding spot at this point in time is the cave which the people from Wool's orphanage mentioned. As there is nothing that Voldemort values over his own life, the security and spells in place to hide and protect it must be massive, so I will carefully attempt to uncover further information. In the meantime, I wish to give you a task…''

''One moment, you did not mention the other possible Horcruxes, Sir,'' Harry pushed. He needed to figure out how much Dumbledore knew about the other Horcruxes. The man was definitely aware of Nagini, that had become crystal clear after what happened during the Christmas holidays. The teen doubted that the Headmaster would mention her though, as she was a clear link that could lead Harry on the track of living Horcruxes and his own connection to the snake. However, there was still one last Horcrux that Dumbledore had never breathed a word about nor shown any memories of. Perhaps Harry could try to steer the other on a wrong path regarding the last Horcrux, keep him busy…

''Your task is related to that. You see, there is a pattern in these objects he used. All of them so far were related to important events in his own life. The diary he entrusted his thoughts with, two family heirlooms, and another object that tied in with his obsession of Hogwarts. Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup are not the only objects that belonged to the Founders of Hogwarts however. I have the feeling that he would wish to complete the set. The only known heirloom of Gryffindor is still safe and untarnished, but Ravenclaw… I wish for you to find out as much as you can about Ravenclaw's diadem.''

Great, so Dumbledore even knew about that one then, Harry inwardly cursed. Why was this man so impossibly good at guessing people's motivations? At least he would not have to pretend about his lack of knowledge regarding this. He'd seen the Diadem only once, back when he didn't even know what Horcruxes were. Voldemort had confronted Harry with objects that appeared to have been drenched in dark magic and made him connect to them, right after Harry had finally given in and agreed to be put through several rituals. Merlin, that was ages ago… Afterwards, that particular Horcrux had never even been mentioned again. Harry hadn't known that it used to belong to Ravenclaw, for one. At least he knew that it was safe with Voldemort, like all others.

Without further ado, Dumbledore bid him goodnight, looking much younger, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Harry could only resent him further. So, sharing the news about having to murder a man seven times over with the teenager he expected to do so made him feel better huh?

With a head that was far too full of conflicting thoughts, worries and anger, he returned to the common room. It was earlier than he'd expected, barely after eight. All in all, the talk with Dumbledore hadn't even taken an hour. It surely was a short period to be slammed with this much emotional turmoil. The only bright spot this evening had brought was having a set date now for the guardianship case. It brought a much-needed feel of stability.

Trying not to get noticed, he quietly ducked out of the way and hurried upstairs to the still-empty dorms, letting himself fall on the bed face-first. What a mess… Dumbledore was hot on the Horcrux trail and would be expecting results. If none would come, then what? Harry wasn't even sure if he should instantly dump this information on Voldemort himself, the man was jumpy enough as it was when it came to his mortality. On the end of the Dark Lord, all endeavours were going rather smoothly right now as far as Harry knew. Not much news reached Hogwarts due to Umbridge, but Voldemort's pleasant mood during their tutoring dreams spoke volumes. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause for Voldemort dropping all his current plans to stop Dumbledore instead. Harry was the only vessel that was currently not safe out of sight and it looked like the Headmaster wanted Harry's help to gather some of the others before turning on him.

Then again, the Dark Lord was not very forgiving about keeping secrets, either. It truly was a dilemma, one Harry didn't even want to think about before solving some of the other problems already on his plate. Gathering strength, the Gryffindor sat up. ''No time like the present,'' he muttered, eyes drifting to one mystery he'd vowed on solving. The scrap of white fog was just as visible as it had been the first day he'd laid eyes on it. Carefully, Harry slid off the bed and opened his trunk, withdrawing the invisibility cloak. Clutching the fabric in both hands, he approached the feeble, pearly sliver that was tauntingly dancing in non-existent wind. Without breaking eye-contact with it, Harry slowly covered himself with the cloak.

Just like last time, as soon it was thrown over his face, the white shape was gone. He hesitated for a while about taking the cloak off again, vividly imagining the soul showing up right in his face as soon as the protective cover was gone again. Bravery won out, and with a decisive tug, he uncovered his eyes. The piece had moved, but further away, in its usual path through the glass of the window. Exhaling slowly, Harry stood there, trying to think of ways to experiment further with this. Peverell's book hadn't been helpful at all in this regard. The author did not seem to be bothered by anything that hadn't at least reached the Black Cosmos before. With most Necromancers considering these visions mere side effects they had to rid themselves of, Harry doubted he'd find any source mentioning them. Slipping out of the cloak entirely, he held the fabric up and tried to peer through. It had the exact same result as when wearing it. Gazing through would make the remnant of soul disappear, whereas the surroundings would be as solid as ever.

A crazy idea came to him, one he patiently waited to put into action until the fog entered the dorms again. It moved ever so slowly, back and forth until it was about a foot off the wall – he struck, throwing the cloak over it. As the heavy, gleaming fabric floated to the ground, nothing remained in the air above it. With a pounding heart, Harry gazed at the crumpled-up cloak. Nothing seemed to happen, but he knew for sure that his invisibility cloak must have affected the sliver. Ever so slowly, the teen knelt down with the intention of lifting the cloak. Right before taking a hold of it again, a strange detail caught his eye that made him halt, fingers hovering barely an inch away. Usually, Harry did not study the invisibility cloak itself in detail. He was either under it and looking through, or busy stowing it quickly from his trunk into his backpack. He didn't make a habit of having such a priceless item lie around for everyone to gawk at.

Only now that it lay on the floor and the sconces on the wall cast flickering light on it, did Harry notice that something about it was different from the very first time he'd received this as a present and let the supple cloth slide through his hands. Back then, he had gazed at it in amazement and marvelled about the material's resemblance to liquid silver. Now, the colour was off. Just a touch, but noticeable enough when staring at it for long enough.

It was brighter somehow. Whiter.

All thoughts about the remnant of life he'd attempted to trap underneath were gone as the teen carefully took hold of the cloak's edge and brought its hem closer to his face. When light was shining from the other side, the cloak turned so transparent that the change wasn't visible anymore, but when holding it from such an angle that he only stared at the floor through it, he finally noticed why the way he perceived the cloak's colour had changed. In between the fine silver fibres was something else. Shreds of familiar white fog appeared to be stitched in with the rest, impossibly pinned down into thousands of ringlets so it didn't evaporate. With a feel of growing numbness, Harry's eyes were fixated on the family heirloom he'd treasured for so long.

An heirloom that turned out to be drenched in death.

And no-one had seen it, he realised. No one could have. Even Dumbledore, who had safeguarded the cloak and possibly studied it over those years, would never have been able to notice this, not without ever dabbling into Necromancy. With a wild gesture that bordered on panic, Harry flipped the cloak around entirely to see what had become of the spirit. In greatest relief, he watched as it slowly whirled upwards into the air and continued its regular pattern. For a second, he'd had the horrible thought of the cloak absorbing it to join the other trapped ones.

Unable to unclench his hands, Harry sat down on the bed and eyed the cloak for a while longer. No wonder that this worked so well as a protective Veil if it was partially made of spirits that couldn't cross over to the Black Cosmos. What sick mind had come up with this? Why was it in the possession of the Potter family? His heart beat at the speed of a hundred miles an hour while mulling over what to do with this new insight. The first instinct was to bring it to Gringotts to lock it up. He realised immediately that doing so would be a waste of such a precious and useful item. This thing had saved his skin more often than he could count and gave a freedom that was otherwise impossible to obtain.

Plus, keeping Necromancy in mind, finding another method to protect his own body while crossing over would be bothersome. Finding out that invisibility cloaks worked had been a breath of relief, as all other described methods had been either too complicated or didn't align with his ideas of ethical magic.

Not that he was entirely sure if using a cloak with captured spirits did either, but the invisibility cloak had already been created. There was nothing he could do about that now. At least they were neither alive nor sentient like ghosts were, they simply existed. As they'd been processed like common thread, Harry also doubted that he could restore their original form. Touching the freely floating spirit near the window had given him flashes of death. He'd never had a similar experience with the cloak. Whatever magic had manipulated these pieces into the shape they were today had also affected their very nature.

Were all invisibility cloaks like this? It might truly be that the reason they turned invisible was linked to it, just like the invisibility of Thestrals was linked to whether or not a person had seen death. On the other hand, Voldemort had mentioned something about Harry's being specifically manufactured for use in Necromantic magic. So maybe not. He was itching to find out more, surprising himself with the sudden burst of fascination and energy that welled up when thinking about the topic. He'd never admit it out loud, but Voldemort had been right… this was an area of magic that came naturally to him for unknown reason. There was no use denying it, especially not now. After reading quite a few of Madam Pomfrey's books, Harry had often found cross-sections between Necromancy and Healing too that had captured his attention. The possibilities were endless, if a bit dodgy.

With a heavy heart, Harry folded the fabric up as neatly as possible and put it back into his trunk. At least some of his questions had been answered, even if many more had popped up in their place.

With a thrill, Harry picked up Peverell's book once again and selected another tome: 'Green Witch: all-natural remedies' as it held interesting theories about regeneration and life cycles that might line up with the other book. When working with corpses, having them in good shape would help maintain stability.

He could not wait for Voldemort's help with this. Harry had been on the fence for a while now, pouring over theory after theory since the Dark Lord had mentioned completing a Necromancy ritual by himself. Having the more experienced wizard keep watch was surely safer, but he still felt uncomfortable with the thought of starting out by doing a ritual that Voldemort had picked. From what he'd gathered, their styles and preferences didn't quite match up. They'd both been chosen by Glory, yet the Dark Lord was obsessed with soul magic, whereas Harry felt far more pulled into the texts when reading about working with pure life. It was no wonder that he'd almost drifted towards Ruin if not by his sheer stubborn willpower. Had Voldemort not been on the back of his mind even then, Harry certainly would have embraced the light of the red moon instead, leaving him only able to work with bodies, life and artificial souls. It was also what he had most experience in after the ritual which had pulled Sirius back. He'd repaired the damaged body and replenished its life, nothing more. Voldemort had been the one to do all the work on mind and soul.

In the span of hours, a plan was forming. If Harry was really going to do this on his own, he'd do it well. There was a certain spell that might be useful very soon… if he could pull it off.

Harry barely noticed when the other boys entered the dorms, long having shut the bed hangings, completely engrossed in the material. It was nice to keep his mind busy enough to forget about most of his stress for once.

XxX

''You don't have the full picture, you know?''

Draco shoved one of the girls away from the bench and sat down next to Pansy, calmly scooping up some peas to load them onto his plate. From the corner of his eyes, he saw that she was struggling to choose between yelling at him and asking what he meant.

''Who told you that you could sit here?'' she finally snapped at him, brushing her long bangs away to throw him a better glare.

''I'm a Prefect, I sit where I want,'' he casually mentioned, inspecting the dessert spoon, shoving it aside with slight distaste when noticing there was a spot on it. Damned House-elves were far too cosy and lazy here. ''Speaking of which, we have to do rounds together after dinner. I thought I'd use that opportunity to… discuss some matters. It's been too long since we caught up, dear cousin.''

''I have nothing to say to you.''

He hummed. ''Of course you don't. I, however, have quite a lot to say to you.'' Finally, he made eye-contact and gave a tight smile. ''You're really being kept in the dark. It doesn't have to be that way.'' Turning away, he dived into dinner with a victorious smirk, knowing that she was dying right now to understand his cryptid message. They didn't exchange another word during dinner, didn't need to. They were familiar enough with each other's non-verbal communication to know that an agreement had been made. If no-one else on the table was any the wiser, better for both of them.

As they finished up, Draco was unconcerned about his chances to talk to her. Indeed, when he was walking out of the Great Hall with everyone else, he noticed that Pansy was following only a few steps behind. He didn't slow down, confidently striding towards the dungeons. Several twists and turns later, they stood alone in a rarely used dead-end corridor where once an impressive statue of Slytherin must have stood, going by the tales of his grandfather.

''Did your new friends set you up to this?'' she asked, folding her arms over her chest. ''Someone going to jump me while Professor Umbridge isn't looking?''

He clacked his tongue. ''Pansy, I thought you knew me better than that. No, we simply have to wait here for a bit until most of the castle is clear and our dear professors are in their offices. What I have to say concerns my family – our family - and shouldn't be discussed in a castle with eyes everywhere. I'm planning on taking a trip across the grounds instead.''

She gave a short cackle. ''The grounds? Has your brain turned to pudding? It's dark and cold and not to mention, off-limits.''

''We're Prefects,'' he reminded her impatiently. ''Doing our duty thoroughly by patrolling everywhere. Surely, Professor Snape won't see that any differently.'' For the first time, he saw her confidence waver a bit. ''Pansy, I truly wish to talk to you. You've picked up on the latest rumours, no doubt?''

''It's true then? Potter becoming a Malfoy?'' Her raised eyebrows subtly showed the exact amount of discontent she felt about the topic. ''I don't even know where to start with my questioning there. What are your parents thinking?''

He took a threatening step forwards, speaking in a low voice: ''They are using their brains and looking past personal grudges to peer at opportunity. As did I. As should you.''

Stubbornly, she refused to answer in any different way than pursing her lips. Knowing that he wouldn't get through here and couldn't say too much yet if he still wanted to have enough information to fill the trip towards the Forbidden Forest, Draco did the same. They stood in silence for a good twenty minutes. Still without saying a word, Pansy suddenly turned on her heel and marched out of the dungeon. This time, it was Draco who trailed after her. She was smart enough to not return to the Entrance Hall, instead weaving her way through dark corridors until they ended up on the ground floor of the clock tower. Perfect. Adjusting his cloak, Draco stepped outside, suppressing a shiver at the cold. The Greenhouse exit might have been a better choice, but they would pass Potter's hiding place one way or the other. He'd already gone ahead.

''So?'' she asked expectantly as they made their way away from the school. ''Being seen with you isn't very favourable nowadays with the company you keep. This had better be good.'' His first instinct was to protest, but Pansy was stuck in her own little bubble right now. She indeed had most of Slytherin behind her. His cousin had always been one to count the worth of praise in numbers rather than quality. It would not matter to her that the few people who did stick by him were all on a whole other level, like Adrian or the Greengrasses. Of course, the first time he'd seen Crabbe and Goyle letting themselves be commanded around by Pansy had stung, but it was their loss more than his. And what she was unaware of as well, but which Draco held in high value, was Snape's opinion. Even his godfather was on Potter's side, and he'd hated Potter's guts from day one. Him pretending to condone any of Umbridge's actions was all a grand act. Pansy wasn't making herself very popular with her Head of House by supporting their hated Defence teacher. It had to stop.

''As you have figured out already, it's true. My parents will gain custody of Potter. The date for the court has already been set and I have every confidence in them winning. Which by extension means that he'll be your cousin too.'' As he spoke, Draco tried to put as much distance between them and the castle, going in a wide arch towards the Gamekeeper's hut. It was probably a fifteen-minute walk from here.

''A blood traitor like Potter will never belong,'' she harshly judged. ''So he used a couple of dark spells during a Tournament and now everyone is hailing him to be the next Dark Lord or what? He still hangs around with Mudbloods and gets called to Dumbledore's office for mysterious lessons, he even went to the press with his sob story in order to protect other Mudbloods.''

She took a deep breath and stopped to stare Draco down. It looked like finally, Pansy was letting loose all of her frustrations. ''Inviting him at the start of the year was a grave mistake. Your attempts to befriend him reflected poorly on all of Slytherin. And what was it based on? Some flying rumours about him maybe having connections to the dark side, as if none of us do. By Circe, it came out that a Death Eater had put Potter in the Triwizard Tournament to get him killed, shouldn't it be clear as day that he's bad news for our family's future? If the Dark Lord has returned like some claim – and from what I gathered, some of the sources are very reliable, including Rosier - then the best thing you could do is distance yourself from that arrogant Gryffindor brat! All the better if one of our Professors finally has the guts and the means to stand up to Potter's crap and punishes him instead of treating him like a poor orphan boy all the time. Even Professor Snape hasn't been as harsh on him since he became a Hogwarts Champion and it's so frustrating!''

In all honesty, while having expected an outburst, his attempts at figuring out her reasoning had been way off. ''I thought you had a personal grudge against him?''

She laughed. ''Oh, I do. He made me look like a fool in front of my admirers. It was worse that he used a sneaky method to do so. Who uses mind-tricks like fear hexes in duel? That's just underhanded! Where are we going anyways? Wandering around aimlessly could raise questions if any Aurors are around.'' She looked around uncomfortably, probably realising that it was only going to get darker as they moved further away from Hogwarts itself. Lighting up their wands wasn't a smart move either. Draco dearly hoped that she would pretend not to be affected by her fear of the dark in order to not lose face.

''Only one of them is usually on the grounds, and I happen to know that he always starts at the Lake with his flock of Dementors. Like this, we can avoid him. There's something I need to show you, something which is kept far from the castle,'' he lied, moving again. ''Look, we both appear to have entirely different intel. Potter surely is not the next Dark Lord and I was sceptical too. However, we cannot ignore that he openly used dark magic, both while representing our school and in his private affairs. It may have been against common etiquette, yet you have to realise that a Fear Hex is not something any regular light wizard could pull off without intense practice. I've seen another side of him altogether. There's a bit more to the story than the claims of excited first-years. Did he make bright choices in sticking with Weasel and Granger? No, but Potter is still idealistic to a fault, something I'm sure he will grow out of when finally entering the Pureblood scene with help of my parents.''

''Do I understand correctly that you have been trying to manipulate him?'' she warily asked. ''I thought-''

''What, you thought that my name was the next one to disappear off the family tapestry?'' he scoffed. That truly was the most ridiculous idea ever. ''Please. You know that my father belonged to the Dark Lord's most trusted. Two years ago, it would have been unthinkable to ask him to foster the Gryffindor golden boy. Circumstances have changed considerably.''

Resolutely, Pansy shook her head, short black hair flying around her pale face. ''Perhaps it is you who is being deceived, as well as your family. Your mother was rather quick to get chummy with her long lost cousin, wasn't she? Someone who has the blood of our own on his hands! My parents celebrated when he got thrown into prison. At last, some vengeance. When he escaped, my mother was furious. Even more so when seeing him show up at your house, invited. Neither of my parents spoke up, of course. Causing a scene would have been unsightly. Still, the name Malfoy has fallen a few times at the dinner table afterwards. Unfavourably I may add. I didn't wish to mingle before as I value family, but contrary to your belief, I do grab an opportunity as soon as I see one too good to pass up on. I have the power to right this wrong, get the black sheep into Azkaban again while also getting Potter into trouble.'' Her smile was full of sharp teeth.

Draco tried not to snap at her impudent accusations. ''While jeopardising my parents' security,'' he pointed out, anger still getting the better of him despite his efforts. As if Pansy was one to talk about vengeance! Neither of her parents had had the guts to climb the Dark Lord's ranks, unlike his own father.

She merely sniffed, raising her chin. ''When I crack these silencing spells, I won't go telling anyone else, who do you take me for? In the long run, this is just as much going to benefit your family as it will mine, Drakey.'' He clenched his jaw. It was so tempting to shake her shoulders and shout into her face that the Dark Lord was back for sure and had very different ideas as to whom belonged at his side than she thought. Unfortunately, he'd finally seen that Potter was right. He'd already told too many people and it had backfired before. In only a few weeks, He would make His first public appearance, which both Potter and Pansy would be present at. Then was the time to rub it in her face. Right now, he only needed to guarantee her silence for a while. A few minutes later, they passed a moss-covered rock that Draco stopped to look at. The forest was still a while away, but peering into the darkness, he could see the line of trees already.

''So, you're going to keep insisting on blackmailing Potter, no matter what I say?''

''I didn't work this hard to be talked out of it. You know how I am. All that work shouldn't be for nothing.''

Before Draco could say another word, a red jet of light shot through the night and hit Pansy square in the back. The Slytherin barely managed to catch his cousin before she hit the cold ground. Damn Potter, according to their plan, he should have stunned Pansy. If she was actually hurt, he wouldn't be very forgiving…

''So much for threatening her. Didn't sound very convincing.''

Draco watched as the other appeared in mid-air. He'd been aware of Harry owning an invisibility cloak for a while now, but hadn't seen it being used before. The mystery of Potter's head turning up in Hogsmeade had been solved at least. That had boggled his mind for a good while.

''That was me trying to reason with her and give constructive critique,'' he retorted acidly. ''Or are you really so unfamiliar with the concept of civil conversation that-''

''Worked out wonderfully. Can you keep a levitation charm stable enough to carry her to the forest or should we do so by hand?'' the other interrupted. Draco cast a wary glance at the Gryffindor. Harry looked tetchy and more than a bit tense, so different from his usual nature. Draco gauged that this wasn't the best moment to protest, so pulled his wand and lifted his cousin in the air. Harry casually threw the invisibility cloak over her. ''I know it's unlikely that anyone sees us here, but if there are patrols, a floating body might attract too much attention,'' he explained. ''Come on, we still need to find a good spot.''

Trying to levitate something invisible was about as hard as one could imagine. Draco kept praying that he didn't accidentally drop Pansy, now and then waving one hand in front of him in order to bump into the girl to ensure she was still hovering in the air. Potter marched forwards fast, as if he had absolutely no qualms strolling into the Forbidden Forest. Maybe he didn't, enough rumours had racked up during the past years that Draco was reasonably sure about the Boy-Who-Lived having broken the Weasley Twin's record. He himself had only been here once, a terrifying experience that he wasn't eager to repeat. But he wasn't eleven anymore, the Slytherin tried to keep that in mind whenever a wave of fear threatened to constrict his throat. He wasn't helpless even against the monstrous creatures that hid in here. Potter had also explicitly chosen a spot that was neither Centaur nor Acromantula territory. Here was to hoping they wouldn't stumble across something much worse instead.

''What is in that?'' he quietly asked when noticing that the other had brought some kind of pouch.

''Venomous Crickets,'' was the confusing answer. ''Dead venomous crickets,'' was the even more confusing clarification.

''Dare I ask where you got them and why?''

Potter slowed down a bit so they were walking next to each other, rather than him following. ''Snape happened to get a new batch today, a whole barrel full for the sixth-year class to brew various weak poisons with. He made me sort through the entire heap as some had already decayed too far and were unusable for brewing. As you undoubtedly know due to Snape wishing to announce my incompetence to every person in this castle, I have remedial potions every Monday and Wednesday evening. I figured he wouldn't notice if I nicked the crickets I sorted out instead of chucking them in the bin. I'd originally wanted to steal some beetles or lacewing flies as I know he keeps a large stock of those, but this was even better.''

''Wait, you actually have remedial potions? After your performances in other areas of magic, I thought it was some sort of cover-up,'' Draco admitted. He'd seen Severus and Potter interact a few times this year and it looked like his godfather had found some reluctant acceptance. Draco didn't think that would be possible if Potter was still as crap at potions as he used to be.

The other shrugged. ''It actually was supposed to be a cover-up. Ironically, both Dumbledore and Voldemort wanted me to learn something that Snape was qualified to teach. His methods were less than ideal though, so I found a different teacher by myself and got it down pretty fast. While Voldemort knows about that, Dumbledore doesn't, and I don't plan on letting him catch wind of it as I would then need to explain several other things that I don't want to. To not entirely waste my time hanging around Snape's office twiddling thumbs, I decided that actually getting some more potion practice in wouldn't hurt. Not going to lie, it'll never be my best subject, but I have noticed an improvement. Snape and I don't agree on most things and he makes me prep a lot of ingredients instead of teaching me, but the lack of other people and noise enables me to concentrate better. Plus, I have even wrung some useful tips out of him. Did you know that sopophorous beans can produce loads of juice if you squash them with the flat end of a silver knife instead of trying to cut them? Magical ingredients are weird.''

Draco frowned at that, trying to come up with a potion that used that ingredient. It was one of his own stellar subjects, yet he couldn't recall ever using beans of any kind. Was Severus teaching Potter N.E.W.T. level potions? That sounded highly unfair to everyone else, meaning particularly to himself, Severus' godson.

Mood soured at that thought, he sulked in silence until they reached the border of the Forest, not even interested anymore in finding out why Potter was dragging a pouch of dead insects with him. Not wanting to bump into anything, Draco lifted the cloak off Pansy and lowered her to the ground. They weren't planning on going in very far, so he might as well drag her in from this point instead of trying to levitate around trees while also watching his own feet in this inky darkness. Maybe they should have done this during daytime, when lighting up their wands would not have been be a visible beacon. He blamed Potter.

He shuffled slowly after the other, who'd gone ahead again. ''Hey, didn't you say that we wanted to stay near the edge?'' he mentioned after a couple of minutes, hating how his voice had gone up a notch.

''There should still be enough trees in the way that Pansy doesn't realise we aren't far in. I also need a bit of space where the underbrush isn't so thick. Give me a couple of minutes, I am sure that I came across a suitable spot last time I fled the forest from this side. Was in a bit of daze then after spotting dragons-''

''Dragons?'' Draco hissed, looking around wildly. Not that it mattered in this darkness. He could barely make out the silhouette of his peer.

Potter only chuckled at his distress. ''Those were for the Tournament, there are no dragons living in the forest as far as I know. Not that I'm an expert, of course.'' That last, cheerfully spoken line did nothing to ease the worry gnawing at his stomach and the instinct to flee this cursed place. There was a distinct reason for why the Sorting Hat had never even considered Gryffindor for a millisecond. Draco actually had some self-preserving bones in his body, thank you very much. No wonder that only idiots from other Houses were caught breaking essential rules like 'don't walk into the death trap corridor or man-eating forest'. Usually. If one wasn't affiliated with one Harry Potter by some flukes of cruel fate. Once again, the realisation hit him that Potter would be his brother in all but blood only a few weeks from now. He still balked at the idea, although at the same time, his brain was trying to work out how to get most opportunities from this arrangement. In the confines of the web of spells that encased Malfoy manor, he could probably bully Potter in showing him all kind of wicked spells that came straight from the Dark Lord himself. It was entirely unjust that the one who'd killed the man by accident was the one who held his attention, but Draco would make the most of it.

''Here is a good spot,'' the other spoke, slowing down. Narrowing his eyes, Draco tried to make anything out. The trees were scarcer here, an open patch of space revealing itself. Unlike the lush clearings in the woods behind his own house, this one was barren and felt even colder than the rest of the forest. Shivering, he hoisted Pansy up to lift her over a large root. ''Just put her down on the ground in a sitting position. I'll tie her hands and feet so she can't grab her wand or run.''

That sounded surprisingly sensible and Slytherin. He'd expected Potter to spout some nonsense about fair fights or so. As Pansy was still family no matter how annoying she'd been recently, he put her down gently and summoned the ropes himself, ensuring they were of a material that wouldn't chafe. ''We are not actually going to hurt her, right?'' he asked once again.

''For someone who wants to become a Death Eater, you're rather squeamish about that aspect,'' Potter commented with a grin. ''Which, don't get me wrong, I find a very positive trait. No, all I am after is a good scare if you threatening her fails. Best get your arguments in order while I make some preparations in case I need to resort to magic. Considering how stubborn she was before, I probably will.''

Indignance over the offending lack of confidence in Draco's argumentative abilities was outweighed by his knowledge of Pansy's personality. It would be necessary. She was far too proud and their previous conversation had already shown that she wasn't budging. His cousin appeared convinced in being righteous. If only her motivator had been hate for Potter alone, threatening with family relations falling apart would have been enough. As she thought that her actions would benefit everyone on their side in the end and Draco wasn't allowed to tell her any of the real reasons why it would not, nothing short of a demonstration was going to cut it. Still, if only for the sake of courtesy, he owed it to Pansy to try. Sitting down on a rock, he watched Potter go around and sprinkle crickets around the clearing. Was the lunatic trying to attract wild, hungry animals? If anything larger or more dangerous than a jackalope showed up, Draco would be ready to get up and sprint the everloving fuck out of this place.

A couple of spells were muttered that he'd never heard of before. With his decent background of Latin, Draco was able to piece together that Potter was mumbling about 'empty space' and 'reversed earth', though he could not imagine what type of magic something like that fit into. At last, the Gryffindor was done.

''Ennervate.''

Pansy awoke with a shock, eyes open wide as she came to her senses and realised where they were. Even the darkness could not conceal the terror on her face as the girl became aware of their surroundings. ''Draco, what…'' she tried to get up and stumbled forwards as the roped prevented it. ''You… This isn't funny!'' she yelped, voice shooting up. ''I will scream!''

''The only thing your screams will attract are unknown monsters around here, so you'd better not,'' Draco replied with thudding heart. ''You're the only one of us who can't run away, after all.''

''Us?'' she hissed, looking around until she caught Potter, who'd been standing behind her. ''Of course. I should have known.'' Within an admirable span of time, she went from confused and scared to furious, spitting at the Gryffindor's feet. ''Do you really think that this will help your case? The second I am back at Hogwarts – and you will bring me back unless you want people asking uncomfortable questions – Professor Umbridge will expel both of you, I'll make sure of that.''

Draco took a deep breath and crouched down in front of Pansy, reasonably certain that she wouldn't spit at him too. ''There's a problem with that, you see,'' he said, trying to hide how nervous and out-of-place he felt. ''As I said before, you don't have all the facts and are doing more harm than good. No matter what you think or saw, my parents are neither traitors nor easily misled. Everything - from your support of Professor Umbridge, to your antagonization of Potter here, will blow up in your face like a badly brewed potion. I don't care for whatever misinformation your parents have, I can't let you continue. If you are going so far as to break the security on my home and betray my mother by ratting out what you know of our connections to Sirius Black, then you and your entire line will be dead to the Malfoy family. No favours, no relationships, no aid.''

She went entirely still, staring straight at him. ''You don't have the power to do that.''

''I am the sole heir to the name of Malfoy,'' he spoke in dead seriousness. ''Of course I do.''

''Whomever you wed will need to agree.''

Ah yes, there was that, but Draco smiled as he'd long anticipated that argument. ''Good thing that the person I will wed is already on my side, not on yours,'' he retorted. Pansy's wide-eyed look was worth having revealed even a hint of his plans for the future. Betrothals were usually kept entirely secret to the rest of the world until the ink on the contract was dry. Draco had nought but a vocal agreement right now, but he was reasonably sure that their families would find no fault in keeping it the way it had been arranged already. And unless the unlikely event would happen where he'd fall heads over heels in love with someone, Draco had nothing against it either. He knew very well that sometimes politics came first. At least he'd had veto rights. His parents' original choice had been an alliance with the Bullstrodes as it had been over two centuries since their lines had crossed. He still shuddered at the thought of walking Millicent Bullstrode down the aisle.

''Wait, you are in a relationship?'' Potter spoke in shock. As he came closer, Draco saw that the previous harsh lines on his face had been replaced with utter disbelief. ''When did that happen?''

Annoyed at his threats having been interrupted, he glared upwards. ''I'm not in a relationship, I am engaged,'' he said with a hint of impatience. It only took a few seconds of meeting Potter's blank stare that he realised once again just how little Potter had cared to learn of Pureblood customs. ''I'll explain to you later.'' Merlin, taking Potter into their family was going to be even more messy than expected. At the very least, someone respectable was interested enough in Potter to have given him a plus-one invitation card for the Ostara ball. Maybe he should drop a hint about it to his parents so they wouldn't frantically try to set up arrangements for Potter before exploring that option. Though it didn't look like his soon-to-be-brother had any clue as to the meaning of that invitation, nor did he wish to reveal who'd given it, so who knew…

He shook his head to clear it. This was no time to be wondering about Potter's mysterious admirer. ''Pansy, we can stay here all night,'' he growled. ''You cannot tell me in all honestly that you'd jeopardise our family ties over a revenge plan that has more holes in it than Weasley's robes?'' he ignored the indignant hiss from Potter in favour of staring his cousin down.

''You think I am risking family bonds? You've crawled so far up Potter's arse that you are the one threatening to ruin those right now over a blood traitor who was cast from his family tree decades ago. By Circe,'' she laughed in disbelief. ''You truly think that Potty is on our side, don't you? How blind are you? He surrounds himself with people who practically kiss the hem of Dumbledore's robes! Weasleys, Mudbloods, Black, I shouldn't even need to go on! The handful of Slytherins that are still friends with you are those whom you convinced somehow that he's on our side with no proof. It's ridiculous!''

As much as he disliked it, when explained like this, he understood Pansy's perspective. Potter hadn't exactly made it easier by refusing to cut ties with his friends. And it wasn't even as if he was pretending to be friends with these people. Oh no, that was too much to hope for. After being part of so many D.A. sessions, Draco could see the appeal of being close to people from all walks of life, but this was school. Out in the real world, away from such a sheltered life, it would never work. Even from what Potter himself had told him about the Dark Lord's vision of a separated world, he'd gathered that everyone would have a certain role to play. He just could not imagine someone like Granger being allowed to run for high positions or the Creevey brothers getting respectable jobs at the press like they wanted to in a world with the Dark Lord on top.

Draco exhaled slowly and threw Potter a look. The other gave a nod in return. With cramped-up calves, the blond got to his feet and sauntered away to watch from a safe distance, wondering what would happen. By now, his eyes had thankfully accustomed as much as they could to the lack of light, so he could still observe what was going on.

''If I understood correctly,'' Potter calmly spoke, gazing down at Pansy. ''You believe that I am hiding my true intentions and misleading people into thinking I agree with the ideals of dark families?''

''Yes,'' she answered strongly.

''You are… partially correct, I suppose.'' At that admittance, Draco raised his eyebrows. Really? This was not going to help anyone here right now. ''I don't agree with most traditional Pureblood beliefs. However, I agree on most points with the visions of the Dark Lord.'' The Slytherin noticed how the other had switched back from using the man's name to his title. He hadn't yet been able to pinpoint why Potter did so at certain points in time. Usually, he was perfectly content to disrespectfully throw the name 'Voldemort' in the room without caring how it affected anyone else. ''And that is all that should matter to you and your family, isn't it?''

''You are not even worthy of speaking of the Dark Lord,'' Pansy growled. ''Like all sensible Slytherins, I feel in my guts that he has truly returned like Evan Rosier claimed. It is only a matter of time before he shows himself to those who are worthy, and he'll crush you under his boot like an insect, Potty. You caused his demise in the first place, you're the reason why he didn't achieve victory before and dark magic has to be covered up to this day. Flashing a couple of spells you learned behind old Dumbles' back doesn't make you one of us!''

''Insects, huh? Funny you would mention that. Not going to lie, I'm rather relieved that you appear to be loyal to the Dark Lord instead of the Ministry. You almost had me fooled by how you trail after Umbridge like a puppy.''

The girl scoffed. ''She may not belong to any respectful dark family, but Professor Umbridge is the only one in this castle who isn't afraid to put Dumbledore in his place. She's the best option anyone who cares for our cause has got now and as soon as our Lord returns, I'm certain that she'll do the smart thing and join him.''

Draco had to admit that Pansy made a point he hadn't thought of before. She may represent the Ministry now, but it was clear that Umbridge had no qualms about using dark magic. Furthermore, he judged her to be an opportunistic witch who would not turn up her nose for a chance of power. What would Potter do if it turned out that she wanted to join their side? Once the Dark Lord took over the Ministry, which was bound to happen eventually, Umbridge might actually keep her position and simply work for the one in power then.

Potter's unexpectantly cold chuckle woke him from those musings. ''Whatever Umbridge wants does not matter, she's destroyed any chance of joining our side. But since I see that nothing we say will convince you to either believe where my allegiance lies nor to keep your mouth shut about Sirius, you leave me no choice. You will not mess with me any longer, Parkinson. The moment that even the thought of trying to screw me over enters your mind, your life will turn into a nightmare.''

Before he'd finished his threats, Pansy was already laughing, a high-pitched cackle that betrayed a hint of fear. ''The only nightmare I see here is your face. Think that leaving me in a dark forest will shut me up? Think again!''

The other didn't answer at all, picking up his invisibility cloak from a nearby branch. Draco blinked once, and Potter was gone. He looked around startled. Had Potter just ditched him? Had he really left them in this unknown part of the Forbidden Forest?

A rumble, the ground trembled ever so slightly beneath his feet. Draco only noticed as he was so hyper-aware of the unfamiliar surroundings. He jumped as lines were cut into the ground without a visible cause, forming a geometric pattern that vaguely reminded of Arithmancy, yet which was far more complex than the diagrams used in that form of magic. For a single second, the entire clearing lit up, the light's origin coming from the ground beneath, hundreds of silver pinpricks glowing up into the night. Darkness descended again, but it was not the same, silent darkness as before. Draco listened in horror as the chirping started, an irregular orchestra that filled the air.

And then, its conductor appeared, with glowing purple eyes and a raised wand. All wind was knocked out of Draco's lungs as several realisations hit him at once. The chirping grew louder, came closer. A moving cloud rose up, darker than the rest of the forest, descending upon Pansy. Her surprised screams were instantly muffled. The ropes he'd tied her with must have been too loose, for she got an arm free and squashed several of the animals. Draco had the feeling that that wouldn't help much to keep them still. Pansy's panicked yelling told him that assumption had been correct.

Potter said nothing, only watched his work in silence. The glow in his eyes slowly faded, but the effects of his spellwork did not. Minutes went by before he moved at all, swinging his wand to the side, the swarm following, leaving the girl alone as long as he allowed it.

''If—if you think that you can scare me into silence-'' she said in a trembling voice. With her free hand, she summoned her wand out of the pocket of Potter's robes and shot a large flame at the insects. Potter's arm moved once more, the crickets flying straight through the fire and landing on Pansy again. The only difference now was that they were glowing, the contours of their half-burned bodies sharply visible as they kept flying, wriggling, chirping. Pansy's composure was finally lost entirely as she tried to crawl away and scream, as no spell she fired at the things stopped their movement. No matter how often she tried to crush the insects, as long as they had even one working leg or wing, they kept coming at her. Draco felt like he was going to be sick, and he was safely out of reach of the hundreds of mini-corpses. What the actual-

''I don't think you quite understood before, Parkinson'' Potter patiently spoke, directing the insects away from her for a moment again. ''I did not 'learn a few dark spells' behind Dumbledore's back in my spare time by reading a forbidden book or two. I have more knowledge about dark magic than you can hope to gain in the next ten years. Hexes and curses are useful, sure, but no book could ever hope to thoroughly teach the point of this type of magic. Whether you like it or not, you cannot hope to beat me. Not in a duel, not by leading me into a trap and certainly not by reporting me to teachers. If you blab to Umbridge, I will haunt your mind, infest your room and destroy your life so utterly that-'' he halted mid-sentence, jerking his head up. Pansy tried to mumble something that sounded spiteful, but he shushed her.

The Forest had been unnaturally cold before, but it didn't compare at all to how rapidly the temperature had dropped now. It was as if Draco was frozen from the inside, unable to move. A shadow loosened itself from the trees, a spectre-like creature floating towards them. Even before hearing its rattling breath, Draco knew they were screwed. All thoughts of hope or positivity were sucked out of him. In the back of his mind, he knew the theory on how to produce a Patronus. In practise, all willpower was lacking to do so. His only relief was that the creature didn't appear to target him, circling around Pansy instead, who crawled away. Potter's wand dropped down and hundreds of crickets rustled as they fell down, lifeless once more.

It was enough. He had enough. As soon as the Dementor turned its back and Draco's legs started working again, he made good on his promise to himself and bolted.

---

An: Ah Draco, you little coward.. But can you blame him?
Here's to all of you who were itching to see more Necromancy! Also, Dumbledore is not slowing down in his hunt...
What do you guys think of Pansy? Let me know!

Next up, D.A. lessons, Harry getting closer to one of his friends again and we get to see a bit of what Sirius and Barty have been up to ;)

Please read and review!
xx GeMerope.