Disclaimer: Nope.

Author's Note: First of all, I'd like to apologize for my rant at the beginning of the last chapter. Yellow 14 pointed out to me that my disclaimer for chapter 23 said something like: I doubt I look anything like JK Rowling. Obviously, it was an offhand, silly comment I put on a disclaimer because back then, I was trying to think of funny things to put on disclaimers. Notice I don't do that anymore and they only say "nope" now? I honestly couldn't think up any more silly lines to say for them. I suppose I never thought someone would mention my disclaimer. Obviously, that person really doesn't like the story if they find something wrong with the disclaimer. But you know what? That's okay. Thank you, Yellow 14, for pointing it out.

I guess I still am overly sensitive to some comments, especially if it's about someone's looks. I am honestly okay with constructive criticism these days though. Thank you all so much for the lovely comments I received for the last chapter. It warms my heart to know that you're all still enjoying the story, and that you like the fact that I dwell on characters' emotions. To me, it makes them feel more real too. I open up my mind and I can imagine how they feel. Rowling's characters have always just jumped off the page for me. Characters like Harry, Snape, and Draco especially - they stick out. Like I've said before, I literally couldn't stand Draco until book 6, when he became genuinely real to me. His struggle, his wake-up call, his realizing that the Death Eaters aren't the wonderful, exclusive club he wanted to belong to ... it certainly was a rude awakening for him.

I'm glad you liked the dynamic between Dumbledore and Snape, and Draco's perspective. You'll definitely see all three of them go through a lot more growth.

This chapter is ... well ... there have been chapters in this story that have changed everything, but I think this one is the biggest of them all. What happens at the end of this chapter will have enormous ramifications for the rest of the story. This chapter does, literally, change everything.

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Harry honestly didn't know how he'd gotten through the last six days. He'd already been tired and lacking in energy, but since Snape had abruptly informed him that he was required to testify at Blaise's trial, it had taken an effort of Herculean proportions for him to even get up every morning.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville could tell that something was wrong. He hadn't hidden from them that he and Draco had to testify and that Snape was bringing them along, but there was still a lot he wasn't telling them. It didn't matter that all was sure to come out at the trial - even though his friends wouldn't be attending, newspaper reporters would be. It was sure to be a long, sordid tale in the Prophet the next morning - or, they'd probably put out a special evening edition so that it could be covered.

But Harry still hadn't informed his friends of Zabini's entire plan, or Draco's part in it. Upon their confusion on learning that Draco would be going with him to testify, Harry had only told them that he'd learned that Draco had been there when Zabini was caught.

In the dorm on Wednesday evening, Ron had not been happy. He'd pulled Harry in there after dinner while Neville and Hermione were working on their homework. "I know you're lying to me, and I don't know why," he'd said in a tone that had betrayal written all through it. "You know more than you're saying, I know it. You're protecting Malfoy for some Merlin-forsaken reason."

"No, I'm not," Harry had said, all the while feeling guilt flood through him. He was lying to his best friend, and apparently not being subtle about it.

"Yes, you are. What's Malfoy ever done to deserve your protection?" Ron scoffed at him. "Bloody hell, mate. Just because he's not quite as awful as he used to be?"

The uncharitable part of Harry reveled in the fact that Ron had at least realized that Draco was changing. But the guilt still squirmed inside him - what HAD Malfoy ever done?

But it didn't matter. Draco Malfoy looked just as lost and blank as Harry felt. He'd never forget the look on his face when Snape had dropped that bombshell on both of them. He'd been furious on Malfoy's behalf when he'd tried to reach out to Snape, and the man had rejected him. "Draco." Just the way he'd said Malfoy's name caused something to die in his gray eyes, and Harry had seen it. The rage that exploded out of him afterwards was, in Harry's view, completely understandable.

"I don't know, Potter. I just don't know." There hadn't been a sneer in his voice when he'd answered Harry's question of, "What now?" He hadn't looked at Harry with hostility either. For a split second, Harry had seen naked despair in his eyes, and it broke something in him. To see Draco Malfoy so undone ... it was awful.

Harry had continued his refusal to tell the truth despite Ron's cajoling, and it resulted in his best friend being cold towards him. And it hurt, even though Harry knew he had been the one to bring it about. There was a part of him that wanted to reach out to his friends - working on the testimony himself had been excruciating. He didn't want to think about the fact that he'd almost died at Hogwarts again. He didn't want to think about the fact that Dobby, who cared about Harry more than the boy would like him to, had been used to carry out such a vile plot. He didn't want to think about the fact that Snape had been the one to save him, and their relationship had only gotten more complicated since. And he definitely didn't want to think about the fact that Draco Malfoy, a boy Harry no longer knew how to feel about, had almost been murdered.

And Ron had almost been framed for it. Didn't Harry owe him that? Wasn't he being a truly awful friend by not telling him something so vital? If Ron felt betrayed now, it would be nothing compared to how he'd feel after the trial when this all came out.

Harry felt that Neville was the only one who understood. He didn't hound Harry about what was wrong, and he left him alone while he was stuck behind his curtains, working on his Godforsaken testimony. The days before the trial seemed to pass very slowly, with Harry staying away from the school's population as much as was humanly possible.

But finally, Tuesday came, and as he traversed downstairs to the common room, everyone seemed more lively than usual. It was back to the same old looks again as many students wished him luck on his testimony.

"You're at least coming to breakfast, right?" Lavender Brown asked, her eyes alive with intrigue. No doubt she wanted to gossip about all of this with Parvati. "When do you have to leave?"

"Yeah, I'm leaving after breakfast," Harry murmured despondently.

"I can't believe you have to go with that slimy git," Seamus said as the group neared the Great Hall. "What's Dumbledore thinking, making you go with him?"

Harry was not happy with Ron for making it known that Snape would be the one escorting them, but it wasn't like it was a really personal thing to share. It had gotten around the school, too, that Draco would be testifying, but that wasn't Ron's doing. Apparently, Theodore Nott had somehow found out about it and spread it around the school, but it wasn't something that could have remained hidden for long anyway.

"It's just the way it is," Harry muttered as he reluctantly entered the Great Hall and sat down at the Gryffindor table.

"Don't worry," Dean said as he piled some kippers onto his plate. "You'll do fine. Zabini will go to Azkaban for what he did to you. Maybe Malfoy will say something incriminating too."

"Malfoy didn't do anything," Harry found himself saying. "He was just there when Zabini was caught."

"Nah. I bet Malfoy was involved too. Why in Merlin's name are you cutting him slack?" Seamus demanded.

"Leave Harry alone, you two," Neville said. "He's got a big day ahead of him, and he doesn't need your constant questions."

"Why are you Harry's bodyguard all of a sudden?" Seamus sniped. "He doesn't need a protector."

Harry glowered at Seamus, having had just about enough of the other boy's attitude. "Don't speak to Neville like that," he said angrily.

"Fine," Seamus said, an ugly expression contorting his features. "I don't know what's wrong with you lately. Ever since you got back from being poisoned, you've treated us like crap."

"No, he hasn't," Neville protested, his face turning red. "How would you feel if you almost died at this school? And it happened more than once?"

Seamus didn't answer, and Harry felt guilt flow through him again. Maybe Seamus was right. Had he been treating his classmates like crap? He honestly felt like he'd tried to be as nice as he could, but he hadn't felt much of anything lately except negative emotion. And ever since he'd learned that he needed to testify, he knew he'd been more standoffish than usual. But was Seamus just angry, or was he right?

Harry didn't know what to say. He let the heated conversation flow right past him as he buttered some toast and poured himself some tea. He had a difficult time getting it down due to the fact that he felt rather ill this morning, but he knew the illness was nothing to do with any after-effect of his poisoning. It was strictly nerves that were making him feel this way.

After he'd forced down that one piece of toast and a mug of tea, he got up from the table. "I have to go," he said quietly.

"Good luck, Harry," Neville said just as quietly. "We'll see you later, okay?"

"We're with you, mate," Ron said, although there was something in his voice that hurt Harry straight to his core. And when Seamus had said that Harry was treating everyone like crap ... Ron hadn't agreed, but he hadn't disagreed either.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said, and though she had looked at Seamus rather frostily, she hadn't said anything, either.

With a heavy heart, Harry left the Gryffindor table and trudged into the entrance hall, avoiding any other student who stared at him. Sighing deeply, he stood there, waiting for Draco and Snape to appear. His stomach was in knots, and he felt extraordinarily shaky. To make matters even worse, he hadn't slept well the night before.

And he had a very, very bad feeling about today. Something was going to go wrong. His instincts were blaring, blaring, blaring at him like some kind of alarm. He could feel it in every part of his body. You're being ridiculous, he told himself firmly. You're pathetic. Calm down, before you cause a scene.

He heard footsteps coming towards him, and saw Draco Malfoy, impeccably dressed and his hair gelled to perfection, making his appearance. Both boys simply looked at each other, neither of them really knowing what to say.

"Potter," Malfoy eventually said, with no emotion in his voice at all. He briefly glanced at Harry before looking away again.

"Malfoy," Harry replied. He itched to call him Draco, but on a day like today, he couldn't make him even more uncomfortable.

The boys stood in silence for about half a minute, both staring into space. What could they possibly say at a moment like this? It was incredibly strange. Harry had never felt so connected to Malfoy. He remembered hearing once that awful experiences could make for some strange bonds. Harry never imagined that he'd ever feel this bizarre kinship with Malfoy over something horrific that had happened to them both.

"Let's go."

The harsh voice stopped Harry's thoughts in their tracks, and he looked up to see a very irate Severus Snape. His black eyes were glittering, and his expression was as forbidding as ever. "To the front door. Now."

The boys glanced quickly at each other again before following Snape to the front door. Several students had finished breakfast by now, and they stared at all three of them as they walked out of the entrance hall.

"How are we getting there, sir?" Harry asked, almost afraid to provoke Snape. He felt so mixed up around the man these days that he honestly didn't know what to do.

"We will walk through the Hogwarts gates, and then we will use a Portkey," Snape said shortly. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry and Malfoy said obediently. Harry felt rather apprehensive - he had taken a Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup and hadn't liked it at all. Upon landing, he'd felt shaky and rather nauseated. Why did witches and wizards have to travel in such strange ways? He certainly wasn't a fan of Floo travel either.

Sure enough, when all three of them grabbed the shoe that served as the Portkey, Harry hated the feeling of the hook behind his navel as it whizzed him to a destination he absolutely did not want to go - the Ministry of Magic. He was dreading setting foot in there. He did not want to speak in front of a bunch of people who would stare at his scar and whisper about him. He didn't want to talk about how he had almost died at a place he was supposed to be safe.

His landing was just as awkward as when he'd taken the Portkey the last time. As he got to his feet, Snape sneered at him, but surprisingly, Malfoy didn't. Still, Harry was envious of how the other boy seemed to know exactly how to land so that he wasn't sprawled on the ground like a complete dunce.

"How charming, Potter," Snape drawled. "I see that wizarding travel is not to your benefit."

Harry glowered at Snape, but kept his mouth shut. There were all kinds of comments that he could throw at him, but decided not to. Snape was making him feel like he'd committed some cardinal sin by not having a bloody perfect landing.

They walked for about a minute until they reached a Muggle phone box. "Get inside," Snape barked at the boys.

"Er, what?" Harry blurted. "Why?"

"Do as you are told, Potter, and do not waste my time with your inane questions," Snape snapped.

Harry gave Snape another cold glare before entering the phone box, still utterly confused. Malfoy didn't look happy either, but he, at least, seemed to know what was going on. "It's how you enter the Ministry, Potter," he said in a dull monotone. "Visitors often enter this way."

Harry had had just about enough of wizard travel. He simply nodded to Malfoy while Snape dialed a number. "Please state your names, and why you are entering the Ministry today," a cool female voice spoke.

"Severus Snape, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy. We are here for Blaise Zabini's trial," Snape barked.

The next thing they knew, all three of them were in the atrium, all wearing badges that simply said: Blaise Zabini's trial. On any other day, Harry might have been grudgingly intrigued by how that had all worked, but today, he couldn't have cared less.

The amount of people in the atrium was staggering, and Harry began to feel claustrophobic. "This way," Snape growled at Harry and Malfoy as he tried to maneuver them through the crowd and towards the lifts. Harry looked over at Draco, whose face had gone completely blank.

Unfortunately, they didn't make it to the lifts before Harry was recognized. "Oh Merlin!" A woman's shriek made many heads turn. "It's Harry Potter!"

There were many gasps throughout the crowd as the unknown woman pointed Harry out. He felt all the stares fall upon him, and his heart began to race. Anger began to fill up the crevices where emptiness had been. Merlin, he hated the attention. Viciously, he thought of all the times Snape had sneered at him that he was a glory hound, an attention hog just like his father. Look at me now, Snape, and tell me if you think I like it, he snarled inside his head.

Then, Snape was actually speaking, and he was snarling himself. "This is the most pathetic scene I have ever witnessed. Move. Now." His face had gone brick red with rage.

All the gawkers scrambled to get away from the terrifying sight Snape produced. Harry felt so completely out of it that he suddenly had the wild urge to laugh. The whole lot of them were acting like they were nothing more than first-years who were terrified their professor would give them detention.

However, it achieved the desired results, and Harry, Snape, and Malfoy were able to proceed towards the lifts. Harry's heart was still racing a mile a minute, and another almost uncontrollable urge hit him - the desire to thank Snape for getting everyone away from him.

They were almost to the lifts when a horrible, cold feeling began to swamp Harry. It had been warm inside the Ministry building five seconds ago, but now, it felt as though ice were beginning to flood his veins. The sounds around him began to dull, too - he could still hear people talking, but suddenly, other sounds were beginning to take their place.

The familiar sound of someone screaming entered his head, and Harry, with a thrill of horror, recognized Quirrell's terror-stricken howls as his skin burned. Snape's drawl joined the screams as he told Harry what an absolute fool he was for rescuing the Philosopher's Stone.

"You are truly your father's son, Harry." Sirius's quiet voice drifted to Harry as he and Buckbeak took off, Harry's chance to get away from the Dursleys fading before his very eyes - and he was literally watching it fly away. He didn't think he'd ever felt so alone and empty, even with Hermione standing beside him. He heard the screams of the Muggle family as they were turned upside down, the chants of robed, masked figures assaulting the air.

He was watching as Draco Malfoy was literally being tortured - and he couldn't bear it. "STOP IT! STOP IT!" His throat burned as he bellowed at who he thought had been Mad-Eye Moody. He heard Crouch taunting Neville about his parents, Harry's heart full of rage and hatred as he saw what effect the words were having on his friend.

And he was choking, violently vomiting up blood, the pain excruciating as poison racked through his system. He knew he was dying. He was at Hogwarts, somewhere he was supposed to be safe - and he was dying dying dying. And he wanted it over. He wanted nothing more than to join his parents. No more adventures. No more Voldemort. And no more bloody Dursleys.

He heard a horrible rattling sound that was all too familiar, and knew with certainty that somehow, Dementors had gotten away from where they were supposed to be and had invaded the atrium. And they were focusing all their attention on Harry - but Draco and Snape were standing beside him.

Harry was shaky and overwhelmed and filled with despair, but he knew he couldn't give in. Draco. Snape. Everyone who was in the atrium was in danger. And once again, Harry knew he had to dive in headfirst. Draco would sneer at him. Snape would drawl about how he always played the hero, just like his terrible, vile father. But Harry didn't care. If it was the last thing he did, he'd help. And he honestly WANTED it to be the last thing he ever did.

He whipped out his wand, and attempted with all his might to focus on something, anything, happy. He thought of his friendship with Ron and Hermione, and his new friendship with Neville. "Expecto Patronum!" he cried out hoarsely.

Nothing but a silver wisp came out of his wand. More terrible memories, more vile voices from his past, filled his head. He could literally feel Dudley Dursley's meaty fists pounding upon him. He could hear Dumbledore apologizing for Harry having his life threatened more than once in his school. He could hear Uncle Vernon calling him "boy", "whelp", and "freak". He remembered a time when he was five years old, suffering from a nasty 48-hour virus. Though he was shaking and sweating and racked with fever, Aunt Petunia didn't care. "You will do your chores. NOW," she snarled as she forcibly dragged him from the cupboard. Harry's head was swimming and he puked everywhere. But even that felt better than the force of Aunt Petunia's slap as she screamed at him to clean it up.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry was growing more desperate as yet another silver wisp came out of his wand, even smaller than the last one. Why couldn't he produce a Patronus? He'd been able to, last year. But that was because he realized he'd already done it, right? The time travel aspect of it all always gave him a headache. Was that the only reason he'd been able to do it?

The awful memories were growing stronger as Harry felt a slippery, slimy hand clamp down on his shoulder. Everything was growing colder. Harry's wand fell from his limp grasp, and he closed his eyes. After all these years of fighting, he had given up. And he had never despised himself more. What about Snape? What about Malfoy? And all those people in the atrium ... they were all going to get their souls sucked out, and it was all his fault. All his fault. Wasn't everything his fault?

He hadn't realized he'd collapsed to the ground as he allowed the darkness to consume him completely. He was done. Harry Potter was done. There was nothing left to do. Nothing left to say except allow the Dementor to take his soul. Maybe, then, he'd finally be at some strange sort of peace.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM."

The roar of the spell obviously didn't come from him. But for an instant, he was tricked into believing that the Patronus form did.

But his wasn't so beautiful. His wasn't so majestic. This one seemed to be magic personified as it chased away the Dementor. It seemed to be made of light itself as, after it had done its job, it appeared to stare directly into Harry's soul.

It was a silver doe.

Barely believing what he was seeing, Harry allowed its warmth to flow into him, taking away the terrible feeling of giving up. For one truly amazing moment, Harry felt like he was whole. He and the silver doe were connected in a way he'd never felt before. Harry no longer heard the voices that were associated with his terrible memories. There was something so pure about the Patronus that washed them all away.

And then, he remembered that ... dream right after he'd been poisoned. He remembered his parents' arms around him, the scent of the grass and the warmth of the sunny garden, the overwhelming emotion in Lily Potter's voice as she spoke Snape's name. And he would never forget the way her emerald eyes had looked into Harry's as the dream faded, and her last words to him that had echoed on the soft, warm breeze.

"Trust him."

And as the doe vanished, that was the last thing Harry Potter heard before he fell into unconsciousness.