The next two weeks passed in a blur for Harry. He spent a lot of time in the library, catching up on homework and essays—he realized he had pretty much forgotten about schoolwork during the month and a half they'd been back at Hogwarts.
His routine with Ginny was proving a delicious distraction from their duties. Thanks to Demelza, and now even Hermione, they had more time together—the girls provided excuses for their repeated absences from the Gryffindor common room. Because of this, Harry was able to spend a small part of almost every afternoon with Ginny, and with the added bonus of their stolen morning hours, it was almost enough. Almost.
Between snogging Ginny, catching up on schoolwork, and Quidditch practice, Harry and his friends kept a close eye on Malfoy's behavior. His breakdown in Defense class had left a bitter taste in their mouths, and they were expecting some sort of retaliation.
Harry even went to Dumbledore, asking why Malfoy was still at Hogwarts after their discovery of the Vanishing Cabinet. But the Headmaster gave only vague answers—something about Malfoy being young and under a lot of pressure—before excusing himself, claiming he had work to do.
Later in the common room, Harry vented to his friends around the fire, unable to believe that Dumbledore didn't see the danger of a cornered Slytherin as clearly as they did.
"How can he be this… naive? Does he really believe Malfoy will stop scheming? We've already proven he's dangerous, that he had a plan to infiltrate someone here. I thought Malfoy would be sent home the very next day…" Harry ranted.
Ginny laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I, on the other hand, think this is exactly the kind of thing Dumbledore would do. Take last year, for example—he knew something was going on with you, but instead of helping you through it, he spent the year sitting on his arse, waiting for things to unfold."
Hermione pressed her lips together. She still struggled with criticism toward authority figures, but she didn't say anything—Ginny wasn't nearly as quick to forgive her for hurting Harry as the others had been, and Hermione didn't want to spark another argument.
Ron nodded in agreement with his sister. "It's mental, that's what it is. He should be doing something. Malfoy looks more unhinged every day. Like he's going to explode—and Merlin knows who he'll take down with him."
Harry was just as unhappy with Dumbledore's inaction. It had been weeks since their discovery in the Room of Requirement, and no further word had been spoken about the incident. Dumbledore hadn't even kept his promise to explain what the terrifying diadem was, and there had been no additional private lessons.
The silence was maddening.
Harry had hoped to start preparing for the future—to learn how to fight more effectively, maybe even train under the Headmaster himself. He had finally begun to make peace with the prophecy and the weight it placed on his shoulders… and just as he did, Dumbledore pulled away again.
Malfoy had stopped showing up to most of the lessons, and Pansy always covered for him with excuses—fevers, colds, or some other imagined health problems—but even she was running out of steam, her excuses growing weaker by the day. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had taken to watching Malfoy's dot on the Marauder's Map, anxious for his next move. His behavior was still erratic, and the breakdown in Defense Against the Dark Arts had only added to the mystery surrounding him.
For the most part, Malfoy's movements were disturbingly mundane, almost boring. He spent nearly all his time holed up in his dormitory, lying still or pacing the room in agitated bursts. There were no more taunts or insults thrown at Harry in the hallways—just eerie silence. Sometimes, when Harry glanced at the Map, Malfoy's dot would be still for hours, and Harry wondered if he was refusing to leave his bed. He stopped showing himself at meals. Had he stopped eating, or was he just having food sent to him by the house-elves?
The few times Malfoy had been seen outside of his room were unsettling. He'd made two brief trips to the Owlery and a few more to Snape's quarters late in the afternoon. It didn't take long for Harry to suspect that Snape was somehow involved in Malfoy's plan. The closeness between them was undeniable, and Snape's complete lack of punishment for Malfoy's absence from class only confirmed Harry's suspicion.
Furious and confused, Harry considered going to Dumbledore. But his frustration with the headmaster was reaching its peak—Harry couldn't understand how the old man could be so passive, especially after everything they had uncovered. Instead, he turned to Remus, hoping that he might provide some much-needed advice. He wrote to Remus about everything that had been happening lately, except for the new relationship with Ginny, of course. He knew that information couldn't be shared in a letter. In his message, Harry aired his frustrations about Dumbledore's refusal to act, wondering if anyone in a position of power would listen to him before it was too late.
It was Friday night, just before the weekend's Hogsmeade visit, when everything changed. Harry was walking back from the library, lost in thought. He wondered if he could sneak in a visit to the Room of Requirement with Ginny before curfew. But as he walked down the dimly lit corridor, he forgot the first rule of safety—being vigilant. It was in that moment of distraction that he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned around just in time to see Malfoy closing in on him, his wand drawn and shaking in his hand. Malfoy's face was gaunt and pale, with dark circles under his eyes, and his usual arrogance had been replaced with something far more dangerous—a desperate kind of madness.
Harry quickly drew his own wand and took a defensive stance, preparing for a potential attack. Malfoy's crazed expression made it clear that he wasn't thinking straight, and Harry knew this could go either way.
Malfoy stopped a few meters in front of Harry, his wand still raised but trembling in his hand. His voice was low, hoarse, and full of venom. "Do you even know what you've done, Potter?"
Harry's heart raced as he watched Malfoy, trying to gauge whether he was about to strike. "I don't know what you're talking about," Harry said coolly, keeping his wand aimed at Malfoy, prepared for whatever might come next.
Malfoy let out a bitter, hollow laugh that echoed eerily in the empty corridor. "You think you're so perfect. Little orphan with a sad story, and everyone just sits back and lets you have your way. Everything's been handed to you, Potter. You've never had to work for anything, and still, you act like you're the righteous one, the chosen one."
Harry frowned, confused by the direction the conversation was taking. He considered stunning Malfoy and walking away, but the sheer intensity of Malfoy's words made him hesitate. The Slytherin seemed like he was unraveling before Harry's eyes, and it was unsettling to watch.
"I know it was you," Malfoy continued, his voice bitter and accusing. "You always stick your nose into things that aren't any of your business. And don't think I didn't notice how smug you looked the days after. Do you even realize what you've done?"
Harry's grip tightened on his wand, and he narrowed his eyes, still unsure of where this was heading. Malfoy stepped closer, his face drawn with frustration, his wand lowering slightly.
"You've signed my death sentence, Potter," Malfoy said, his voice barely a whisper. "I hope that thought eats you alive while you've still got time left."
With a final glance at Harry, Malfoy spun on his heel and walked away, his footsteps echoing down the corridor, leaving Harry stunned in the silence.
For a moment, Harry could do nothing but stand there, trying to process what had just happened. Malfoy's words lingered in the air, and the sense of dread in Harry's chest grew heavier.
….
The next day, when they left for Hogsmeade, Harry was still preoccupied with the unsettling encounter with Malfoy the night before. The Slytherin's words kept echoing in his mind. Harry kept replaying the conversation, trying to make sense of Malfoy's cryptic statements and the dangerous desperation that had clouded his face. His friends, however, were more concerned with Harry's safety than his mental turmoil.
When Harry explained what had happened, the response was immediate and overwhelming. Ron, his face pale with worry, insisted that Harry never walk alone on the school grounds again. Hermione agreed, her eyes wide with concern. They both came up with a plan that Harry knew was born out of love and concern but felt more like a prison sentence than protection. He didn't want to be babysat. But he also knew they weren't going to back down, so with a reluctant sigh, he agreed.
The plan for the day seemed simple enough. Harry would go to Hogsmeade with Ron and Hermione, and they'd visit the shops together. The trip was a welcome distraction, even if it was hard to concentrate on the quaint little stores when his thoughts kept drifting back to Malfoy. They had plans to meet Ginny, Demelza, and Colin for lunch at Three Broomsticks, which would give Harry a moment to breathe away from the prying eyes of the village.
Ginny had made sure to arrange the meeting carefully—Demelza would casually invite the Trio to join them at their table. Hermione, always eager to socialize, would gladly accept. It was the perfect setup, an unassuming way for Ginny and Harry to share a moment in the crowded pub without raising any suspicion.
After lunch, Ginny would lament about having to visit the apothecary, and Harry would, of course, offer to accompany her. The pretense would give them a reason to slip away from the crowd, under the Invisibility Cloak, and head toward the forest near the Shrieking Shack. They hoped that the area would be deserted, providing them a rare moment alone. It would be their time to escape from the constant watchfulness of their friends and the rising tension that hung over Hogwarts.
The first part of the plan went without a hitch. Harry actually enjoyed the time with Ron and Hermione, throwing jokes like they used to. He realized he hadn't spent nearly as much time with them as he used to before. He promised himself he would hang around them more again, not wanting to distance himself from his first and closest friends.
When it was time to go for lunch and they made their way inside The Three Broomsticks, everything went smoothly too. Soon, Harry was (totally by chance, not because of careful scheming) sitting next to Ginny with their friends around a small circle table, awaiting lunch.
The minute he sat down, he found Ginny's thigh and pressed it with his hand under the table, looking the other way. Ginny, in response, pressed her knee against his leg.
Harry was enjoying her closeness and, like many times before, regretted that they couldn't enjoy days like this openly. The small secret touches and lingering glances in public places were driving him mad. How could he stay unobtrusive when everything he wanted right now was to kiss her?
He was looking around the pub in hopes of thinking about something else when he saw him.
Malfoy was sitting at a table in the poorly lit corner of the room. He was alone, holding a cup with both hands and staring at it with unblinking eyes. His hand swayed slightly from side to side as he took a long gulp from the cup and made a face that told Harry it wasn't tea he was drinking—it was something much stronger.
Harry looked at Madam Rosmerta with surprise; to his knowledge, she never served anything alcoholic to underage students. But as she saw Malfoy and noticed his cup was empty, she filled it again with Ogden's Old Firewhisky and brought it to him without a second thought.
"Since when does Rosmerta serve alcohol to students?" Harry asked, still looking in Malfoy's direction.
"She doesn't. Why would you say so?" Hermione responded, but Harry just nodded toward Malfoy.
"He's drunk. And I just saw Rosmerta bring him another cup."
Everyone around the table looked at Malfoy at the same time, which probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, because Draco must have felt their gazes and lifted his eyes to meet theirs.
He looked over the group with disgust, his gaze stopping directly on Harry. The two boys stared at each other in a silent battle to see who would break eye contact first, but neither budged. Finally, a cruel smile curled on Malfoy's face as he smirked and downed the whiskey in his cup.
He stood up slowly, spilling some coins from his pocket across the table, still maintaining eye contact with Harry.
Then he started walking toward them on slightly unsteady legs.
"This obsession of yours is getting out of hand, Potter. If you spent the time you waste on me with someone else, maybe you'd get a bird. Maybe even get a leg over... But probably not. Who'd want to shag your scrawny self?" he slurred slightly.
"If you're done checking me out, I've got better things to do. Bye."
And with that, Malfoy left the pub, still surrounded by a silent aura of madness.
Demelza and Colin, who hadn't been informed about Malfoy's attempts with the Vanishing Cabinet, looked at the others curiously.
"What the hell was that?" asked Demelza after a moment of silence.
"That was… weird, right?" said Ginny.
"No weirder than his breakdown in class. This was just… Malfoy being Malfoy. Just drunk on top," said Ron, thanking Madam Rosmerta as she brought them their ordered food.
"That's the weird part, though," Harry said once she left. "He was about ready for another breakdown yesterday. And today he's almost… like his old self. I don't like this development at all. He's planning something."
After that, everyone turned their attention to lunch, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Harry enjoyed a butterbeer after the meal, and when the others ordered another round, Ginny delivered the rehearsed line about needing to go to the Apothecary.
Harry quickly offered to go with her—after all, no one wanted her walking around Hogsmeade alone with drunk Malfoy on the loose, did they?
They left their friends in the pub and headed in the direction of the Apothecary but then turned into a deserted side alley, where Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over them both.
"Hello," he said once they were safely hidden.
In response, Ginny greeted him with a long kiss that left Harry weak in the knees and then they headed off toward the Shrieking Shack.
The forest near the Shrieking Shack was quiet, save for the crunch of leaves under Harry and Ginny's shoes. They had walked a bit deeper into the trees to make sure they were truly alone, and finally stopped at a small clearing dappled in sunlight.
Harry threw the Cloak off them both and dropped it carefully onto the mossy ground. Ginny immediately pulled him into another kiss, laughing softly against his lips. Harry smiled into it, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her slightly off the ground, just to make her squeal.
They fell into the grass together, limbs tangled, stealing kisses and exchanging whispered jokes. Ginny plucked a twig from Harry's hair and teased, "You'd think with the hair of yours you'd learn how to brush it."
"And lose my trademark charm? Never," Harry replied, grinning as he rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. "Besides, I'm fairly sure you like it."
Ginny raised her eyebrows. "That's a bold claim, Potter."
He leaned closer, eyes twinkling. "Prove me wrong."
She kissed him again, slowly, and for a moment the world was just birdsong, sunlight, and the soft rustle of trees around them.
Then the scream came.
It tore through the woods like a knife—high-pitched, raw, and unmistakably human. Ginny froze against him, eyes wide. Another scream followed, louder this time, full of pain and fear.
Harry was already grabbing the Cloak and pulling it over them both, heart pounding in his chest. "That's not far," he whispered urgently.
Ginny nodded, her face pale but determined. "It sounded like it came from just beyond the hill."
Without another word, they began moving through the trees, careful and silent under the Cloak. The warmth and joy of the moment were gone—replaced by dread that tightened in Harry's chest like a fist.
They followed the path the scream must have come from, hearts racing, Ginny's hand gripping Harry's tightly under the Cloak. Every rustle of branches and snap of twigs made them freeze, eyes scanning the woods.
Then the screams stopped. The silence that followed was even worse—it felt wrong, heavy, like the forest itself was holding its breath.
They reached a small dip in the land where the trees opened slightly. At first, it seemed empty. But then Ginny gasped and pointed.
Behind a fallen tree, half hidden by leaves and roots, was a puddle of blood.
A lot of blood.
Harry pulled the Cloak off them with trembling fingers and knelt down beside it, his heart hammering. There was no sign of a body, no trail leading away. Just the thick, dark stain soaking into the earth.
Ginny crouched beside him, her voice barely a whisper. "Harry… who the hell was screaming?"
Harry shook his head slowly, eyes still fixed on the blood. "I don't know. But someone was hurt. Badly."
"Maybe we shouldn't be here," Ginny said, and only now did they both realize how exposed they had become. Someone had been hurt badly here just minutes ago, and they had no idea whether the attacker—a Death Eater, a lunatic, or even a dangerous creature—was still nearby. Harry quickly pulled them under the Invisibility Cloak again.
"Let's get out of here. We'll find a teacher in the village and bring them back."
They ran hand in hand towards Hogsmeade, every sense on high alert, constantly glancing over their shoulders.
"But should we go to the teacher together?" Ginny asked. "I don't know how we'd explain being completely alone out here without raising questions."
Harry had to agree. Depending on which professor was in charge of today's Hogsmeade supervision, their secret could easily slip. Professor Sprout, for instance, was a terrible gossip. If she saw them together, she wouldn't keep it to herself.
Luckily, the first adult they came across wasn't a professor at all—someone even better. Standing at the corner of the street, looking glum and tired but dressed in Auror robes, was none other than Nymphadora Tonks.
"Brilliant! Should we go together?" Harry asked hopefully.
"No way. Tonks is friends with Mum—if she sees us together, she'll definitely say something. Harry, go back to the Three Broomsticks. I'll talk to her—it's always you in these situations, and people already find that suspicious. Let me handle it."
Harry reluctantly agreed to let her explain the situation but adamantly refused to leave her alone. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay under the Cloak, yeah?"
They ducked into a deserted alleyway where Ginny slipped out from under the Cloak and immediately ran towards Tonks, urgency in her voice as she explained what they'd seen.
"No!" Tonks stopped her sharply when Ginny offered to bring her to the site. "Aurors have ways to trace your steps. You are not going back there—we don't know if it's safe. Do you know where Harry is? If there was an attack, he could be the next target."
Ginny answered with a white lie, saying she saw him at the Three Broomsticks, while Harry stood right beside her, hidden and resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Good. Go find him and head back to Hogwarts immediately. Bring any other students you see with you. I'm starting the investigation now."
Without another word, Tonks turned and sprinted towards the woods, conjuring not one, but four silvery wolf Patronuses. They darted off in different directions, likely carrying messages to other Aurors.
Harry waited until Tonks disappeared from sight before taking off the Cloak. Then, high on adrenaline, he and Ginny ran back to the Three Broomsticks.
Their friends were still sitting around the same table as before. Demelza looked up as they burst through the doors and smirked, clearly misinterpreting the energy they carried.
"We need to leave. Now," Harry said, his voice sharp with urgency.
Everyone at the table turned to look at him. Ron and Hermione immediately recognized the seriousness in his tone. They'd been through enough with him to know when something was wrong, so they stood without question.
Demelza and Colin looked confused and worried, glancing at Ginny for an explanation.
"Not now," Harry snapped. "Pay the bill—we have to get back to Hogwarts grounds. Right away."
Hermione dashed to the bar to pay, accidentally bumping into Professor Slughorn in her haste. She muttered a quick apology, then hurried back, and together the group left the pub in a rush.
The walk to the Hogwarts gates was tense and silent. More and more Aurors were flooding the village streets now, and even Demelza began to understand that something serious had happened.
Just as they were nearing the Gates to Hogwarts grounds, a familiar voice called out, panicked and breathless.
"Oi!"
They turned to see Leanne, a Gryffindor student year above Harry sprinting towards them, her eyes wide and filled with tears.
"Leanne?" Ginny called out. "What's wrong?"
"It's Katie! Something—something's happened to her. She's—she's hurt! We were walking back from the Three Broomsticks and she opened a package, there was a necklace—she touched it—and—and she just started floating, screaming in pain—"
Her words came out in a rush, and she doubled over, clutching her side as if she'd run the whole way without stopping.
Hermione stepped forward. "Where is she now?"
"I ran for help. Lavender is with her. She's just around the corner —please, we need to do something!"
"Come on," Harry said, already taking off at a run. "We'll find someone on the way!"
They sprinted toward the spot Leanne had described, their minds racing. Another attack? Could it be connected to the blood in the woods?
They found only Lavender when they arrived, sitting on the cold ground and crying hysterically. Leanne dropped to her knees beside her and wrapped her arms around her, both girls trembling with fear and shock.
Harry stepped closer. "Lavender, what happened to Katie?" he asked gently.
Through her sobs, Lavender managed to explain that just moments earlier, Hagrid had come out of the woods, seen what had happened, and taken Katie in his arms to carry her to the hospital wing.
On the ground nearby lay a black package, the necklace peeking out from inside like something poisonous and alive.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry cast, and the necklace rose slowly into the air. None of them wanted to touch it.
They began walking back toward the castle in scared silence, the cursed necklace floating ahead of them.
In the Entry Hall of the castle, Professor McGonagall was waiting for them. She strode toward the group the moment they entered through the gates and immediately separated Lavender, Leanne, and Ginny—the students directly involved in one of the day's incidents.
Harry considered stepping forward, maybe telling McGonagall he'd been with Ginny, but Ginny gave a subtle shake of her head. So he let it go. They exchanged quick goodbyes, and then he, Hermione, Ron, Demelza, and Colin continued on toward Gryffindor Tower.
The moment they climbed through the portrait hole, Hermione and Ron turned to Harry, cornering him. Demelza and Colin hovered nearby, still visibly shaken and clearly waiting for answers.
"What happened before you came back to the pub?" Hermione asked sharply.
Harry walked over to one of the couches near the fire and sank into it. He gestured for the others to sit as well. Colin looked surprised to be included but joined them nonetheless.
"We went for a walk in the woods near the Shrieking Shack," Harry began. "Then we heard someone screaming—screaming bloody murder. We ran toward the sound and found… a pretty big pool of blood. No person, no sign of who was hurt, just blood. So we ran back to the village, found Tonks, and then came straight to you."
Hermione frowned, deep in thought. "So Katie's incident wasn't the only attack that happened today?"
"Well… presuming they were attacks, yeah," Harry said grimly.
The group fell into stunned silence—until Ron broke it with a sudden question.
"Wait a minute… I thought you went to get some potion supplies at the Apothecary. What were you doing by the Shrieking Shack?" He was eyeing Harry with suspicion again.
"Er… Ginny wanted to take a walk," Harry said, avoiding Ron's gaze.
At that, Ron smirked. "So… did you perhaps have time to tell her something?" he asked, clearly referring to their conversation a few weeks earlier, when he had coaxed a confession out of Harry about fancying Ginny.
"Is that really important right now, Ronald?" Hermione interrupted sharply. "We don't even know if Katie's all right, or who the other victim was."
Harry gave her a tired but grateful smile.
Not long after, Ginny arrived in the common room with an update. "Lavender and Leanne are both staying in the hospital wing overnight. Madam Pomfrey gave them Calming Draughts—they were really shaken."
The Gryffindor Tower gradually filled with students, all buzzing with speculation about the Aurors swarming both Hogsmeade and the school. But no one seemed to know what had really happened. The group exchanged uneasy glances and silently agreed not to say anything—for now. Surely someone would tell them more at dinner.
Their assumption proved correct.
Before the feast began, Professor Dumbledore stood up at the Head Table. His expression was unusually grave.
"It is with deep regret," he began, his voice somber and clear, "that I must inform you of two serious incidents that took place earlier today in the vicinity of Hogsmeade. Two students were attacked by unknown individuals. Miss Katie Bell of Gryffindor has been transferred to St. Mungo's for treatment we could not provide here. She remains in a coma caused by a powerful curse."
Gasps and horrified whispers rippled through the Great Hall. At the Gryffindor table, the seventh years looked around at each other in growing dread, all clearly shaken.
Harry's eyes flicked up to the staff table, scanning the faces for answers. The professors all looked solemn and tense—except for one. Severus Snape looked terrified. His skin was pale, his eyes wide and glassy, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His hands, barely visible under the table, were trembling.
After a beat of silence, Dumbledore went on.
"There was a second victim," he said quietly. "Though the student has not yet been found, Aurors were able to identify him based on witness testimony and evidence at the scene. That student was Mr. Draco Malfoy."
A strangled shriek rose from the Slytherin table. Pansy Parkinson burst into sobs while the rest of her housemates sat frozen, glancing at one another in disbelief.
Dumbledore's expression darkened even further.
"It is my solemn duty to inform you that, based on the scene discovered by Aurors, Mr. Malfoy is presumed dead."