Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Harry Potter and the Triangle Prophecy

Chapter Ten

Asylum

It may seem a strange principle to enunciate as the very first
requirement in a hospital that it should do the sick no harm.

--Florence Nightingale

The lunatics have taken charge of the asylum.

--Richard Rowland

The wind howled.

Harry shouted in Hermione's ear, hoping she would be able to hear him. "What's going on? She's only one-quarter Veela!"

"What do you mean, Harry? She's not just part Veela. She's a witch! A very powerful witch who's part magical creature. And Veelas are obsessed with vengeance when they believe they've been wronged. Her emotions are augmenting both her magical powers and her Veela powers!" Hermione cried in his ear.

"But--but they managed to subdue the Veelas at the World Cup--"

Hermione shook her head. "I know you love Quidditch, Harry, but it is just a game. They were hired to do a job and they did it. This--this isn't a game or a job to Fleur. This is her life."

Snape and Maggie appeared behind them with Remus Lupin, all of them shielding their faces from the flying debris and the scouring wind. Percy and Katie staggered outside as well, followed by Lee and Fred. Harry wasn't sure whether Ron had heard what Hermione had said; his best friend turned to Remus and yelled above the wind, "What do you reckon? Between the two of us, could we calm her down?" Harry assumed he intended to use some of the calming techniques Remus had been teaching Ron.

The older werewolf looked at the fierce creature before them. "We need to be very careful," he shouted back at Ron. "Don't antagonize her further." Ron nodded and Harry wasn't sure what they planned to do, but he hoped they would do it soon.

But before any of them knew what was happening, Alicia screamed, ducking, as a ball of flame hurled by Fleur narrowly missed her, hitting instead the curtains hanging just inside the French doors that opened onto the balcony where she and Roger stood. Roger sprayed water at the flaming curtains with his wand, screaming to Alicia to get inside.

"No!" Alicia responded rebelliously. She joined him in putting out the fire, her carefully-arranged blonde hair flying free, grim determination on her face.

"It's you she's after!" Roger bellowed at her. Alicia responded by pointing her wand at Fleur.

It was Roger's turn to scream, "No!" He tackled Alicia and pushed her to the floor of the balcony; they were out of sight now, behind the heavy stone balustrade. Harry couldn't decide whether Roger had been protecting Alicia or Fleur. Hermione was biting her lip, looking up at the balcony. Ron turned to Remus.

"We'd better move quickly!" Ron said.

Remus looked at Fleur, swallowing. "Don't startle her!" he warned Ron. Harry had thought Hermione and Maggie had heard what Ron and Remus had been discussing, but when the two werewolves--or more specifically, Ron--started toward Fleur, Harry and Snape had to restrain them. Percy and Fred looked poised to dive after their brother as well; they wavered, evidently torn between trusting in his abilities and continuing to treat him as their baby brother.

Both Hermione and Maggie were crying, "Ron!" Snape held his date around the waist to restrain her; Harry had his arms around Hermione's torso, pinning her arms to her sides.

He shouted at Snape, "Maggie should get inside. We need someone to distract the Muggles and keep them away from the windows and doors."

Percy's jaw was clenched. "I'll go to the Ministry for help."

"I'll go with you," Katie said unexpectedly. They Disapparated with a double pop! Harry saw Ron and Remus moving their lips, speaking to Fleur, their faces pleading, but he couldn't hear any of it. His head was buzzing with the champagne he'd had earlier.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked Snape. "I thought I saw him somewhere in the back of the church--"

"He had--business to attend to," Snape said clearly above the now-constant howl of the wind. "I know where he is. I'll go." He too Disapparated. Fred and Lee dragged Maggie inside, glancing over their shoulders at Ron, who stood tall and determined, facing Fleur Delacour. Harry heard Fred and Lee close the front door with some effort, because of the wind; he continued to hold Hermione, but he was having a very hard time keeping her in check. His muscles were feeling the strain. He tried to calm her down before she broke free and did something brave but stupid.

"Give them a chance!" he shouted in her ear. "Please!" he begged her now. "You know they're safer than the rest of us. It's harder for her to hurt them."

She sagged against him, sobbing. He turned her to face him, holding her tightly as she buried her face in his chest; he patted her back and attempted to smooth her wild hair with his other hand. It was very difficult, however, to calm someone else when his own heart was going a mile a minute, and when he could see over her head that Ron and Remus did not seem to be having any luck.

Fleur rose into the air, her enormous wings moving effortlessly. She flung a ball of fire at Remus Lupin, who stepped nimbly to the side, avoiding it. Harry thought he said, "I can do that too! Look." It was hard to tell; Harry had to read his lips. Suddenly, Remus was also holding fire in each hand. Harry remembered him casually conjuring up fire at a moment's notice the first time he met him, on the Hogwarts Express.

But although Remus Lupin's face was not angry and he wasn't hurling the fire at her, she recoiled and pointed at him with the hand that had hurled the fire at Alicia. Suddenly, he was flying backwards at a tremendous speed, disappearing into the night, over the hedges and paddocks, his hands still flaming....

Harry caught his breath and the sound made Hermione turn. Ron faced Fleur alone now. Evidently, he decided that talk wasn't enough, having seen what happened to Remus, and he pulled out his wand. Harry couldn't hear the spell, but a crackling red light was emitted from the wand, only to be deflected by the Veela wings, which evidently were a great deal like dragon wings.

Fleur now turned on Ron, who still stood his ground. She pointed, and now, he too was flying backwards over the landscape, the banishing charm quickly making him disappear from sight.

Hermione screamed his name and broke loose from Harry, running in the direction Ron had gone. Harry stood alone on the steps, facing Fleur. He didn't know if Roger and Alicia were still up on the balcony. I have to get this right, he thought nervously, remembering the gang of dragon-handlers that had been necessary to subdue the Hungarian Horntail; then there was the conjunctivitis charm which Krum had used on his dragon in the Triwizard Tournament, hitting it where it was most vulnerable: the eye. At least her entire body doesn't have dragon scales, he thought. As long as I miss the wings I should be fine.

His head throbbed as he cried, "Stupefy!" He pointed at her mid-section, trying to keep his hand from shaking, but behind him, someone else had simultaneously called out a warning.

"Watch out!"

She moved even as Harry's spell was traveling toward her, the wings again deflecting the spell. Harry swore, turning to see who had shouted the warning.

It was Roger Davies.

"You!"

"Get out of here, Potter! This doesn't concern you!"

"I think it does, when she starts attacking my friends!"

"They shouldn't have tried to--"

"What the hell is going on?" Harry demanded of him, interrupting. The magical storm swirled noisily around them. Roger Davies set his jaw and did not reply. Alicia stood behind him, Harry saw now. He didn't know whether they had Apparated down from the balcony, and he didn't care. This doesn't make any sense. "She tried to kill your wife!" he screamed at Roger.

"Harry!" Someone to his right had called his name, the sound almost disappearing in the storm. He turned to see Ginny and Draco tearing around the corner of the house, fighting against the buffeting wind. Evidently, they hadn't been inside when Fleur had arrived, so they weren't shut up with the rest of the guests. Draco Malfoy was the one who had screamed his name.

"What's going on?" Ginny cried, when they had reached the steps; she looked at Fleur fearfully, shivering. The wind whipped her hair and the skirt of her dress; Harry immediately shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Ginny's bare back, thinking that Alicia obviously hadn't reckoned on this happening when she selected halter dresses for her bridesmaids. Draco grimaced, as though he wished he'd thought of giving her his jacket, but he didn't say anything. Ginny slid her arms into the sleeves and then wrapped her arms around her middle while Harry told them what had happened to Ron and Remus. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, without warning, Ginny turned and ran toward Fleur, her hair completely undone now, flying wildly around her head like a russet storm cloud. She pulled her wand from a holster on her leg and pointed it at Fleur, but she had no time to utter an incantation before a ball of flame was flying toward her.

"No!" Harry cried, running and diving for her. He knocked her to the ground, but the ball of flame hit him in the back, instead; she screamed as she fell, the sound filling his brain as the pain from the ball of fire exploded within him. He felt like a hundred Cruciatus Curses were being put on just his back. The pain was mind-numbing, but with an enormous wrench, he focused, and then he was rising up, up and out of his body, away from the pain, and he could look down and see himself, see his shirt burning away, see Ginny's mouth open in a silent, horrified scream. His body was atop hers still, shielding her.

Harry could see everything with perfect clarity. Draco Malfoy was slowly pulling out his wand and Roger Davies was dragging on his arm and shouting at him soundlessly, all in slow motion. As if moving underwater, Draco pulled his fist back, then moved it forward again, excruciatingly slowly, his knuckles finally smashing into Roger Davies' jaw. Inch by inch, Roger flew backwards, colliding with Alicia, who was knocked down very gradually, her new husband on top of her, holding his jaw and glaring at his attacker.

Harry saw that his shirt was in burnt tatters and that his back was covered in ugly burns. There were no longer flames on his back, though, and his kilt was intact. Still, Ginny knelt by his side, tears streaming down her face, so slowly, so slowly, that he could see each one. It all seemed to be happening so slowly....

He saw Draco Malfoy's face then, saw the raw fury as he pointed his wand at Fleur, his eyes grey as steel and yet afire. Fleur's hand held another ball of fire, and she was once more aiming at Harry. If she hits me again.... Harry wondered how long it would take for him to die....

As the fire left her hand, Draco Malfoy blasted it out of the air, and corkscrew tongues of fire came showering down from the sky, very small and relatively harmless now. Malfoy had prevented the fire from reaching Harry.

Draco's lips were moving, and at first Harry thought he was saying his name again, but then he realized that it was that curse. Roger Davies was slowly getting to his feet, but he disarmed Draco Malfoy too late; the spell was cast. The blond boy went slowly flying back against a porch pillar as his wand floated toward Roger. However, he only seemed to be winded, and promptly launched himself at the groom, and the two of them tumbled languidly down the steps, locked together, even as Draco's spell was having its effect on Fleur. Harry looked down on the shriveled skin that was his own back, thinking, No, Draco. Not that....not that curse...."

For Draco Malfoy's aim had been true. Fleur convulsed when the curse hit her, and, in mid-air, she changed to her human appearance again. Roger and Draco could not see it, as they were rolling over and over on the ground. But Harry could see it; like film being run slowly backwards, her face metamorphosed back into the woman he had first seen three years earlier, her wings folded and diminished until they were completely gone, and then he saw her fall, fall, fall....

She seemed to lie there forever, and Harry feared the worst, but then she lifted her head, her eyes still utterly blue, and as she knelt, Harry had a horrible premonition of what she was going to do. He remembered what this was like, the sensation of being appalled by his own actions, even as he was unable to stop himself....

She knelt and, with a slow grace, raised her small, white hands, positioned to hold an invisible knife-handle; she brought her hands down, as though the blade on her unseen knife had sliced into her abdomen; she moved her hands across her body, performing a perfect pantomime of the grisly ritual, her face dripping with perspiration, and every movement slow, so agonizingly slow and drawn-out--although Harry knew that for her, it was happening impossibly quickly. She put down the imaginary blade and continued the pantomime, pretending to remove her own insides, to disembowel herself, continuing the morbid play....

Then she started screaming. She opened her mouth wide, her eyes horrified; she hardly seemed to have a moment for breathing. Harry was not sorry he could not hear her. She looked to be in more pain than anyone Harry had ever seen, her face reddening as the screaming went on, and on, and on....Finally, she stopped and collapsed on the ground, and Harry remembered that Karkaroff had blacked out when Draco Malfoy had put the same curse on him.

Roger Davies and Draco Malfoy were still locked in their slow-motion combat, occasionally landing blows on each other, no wands in sight, while Alicia stood nearby, pointing her wand at the pair of them, but casting no spell. Gradually, Harry saw Roger escape from Draco's grasp, and, as though moving underwater, run to Fleur. He held her limp body in his arms, while Alicia lowered her wand and stared at him, her husband, crying over his former girlfriend. Her face was inscrutable.

And then all at once, there were people: Snape, and Dumbledore, and Percy and Katie and some Aurors he didn't recognize all suddenly appeared. A wizarding ambulance popped! into existence on the Spinnets' lawn; it seemed sudden even to Harry, so he knew it was in the blink of an eye for the others. Ron and Remus and Hermione came running around the corner of the house and headed straight for him and Ginny. People were suddenly everywhere; milling in groups; talking to Draco Malfoy, who was waving his arms wildly; hovering over Fleur, who was still in Roger's arms; looking at the burnt skin on his back, trying to revive him. He looked down at the chaotic scene dispassionately, thinking about what to do next.

Go back.

It was a very logical-sounding voice, like the voice at the back of his head that had questioned why he should jump on the desk, the first time the Imperius Curse had been placed on him.

No, he thought at the voice. It will hurt.

Life is pain. You know this. You can't refuse to go back much longer.

Why?

If you wait too long, you won't be able to go back....

Not go back.

In some ways, it was tempting, so very tempting....He felt light and free and utterly without pain, emotional or physical. He could never feel pain again, could he? Or have his heart broken....

He looked down at Ginny, crying and shouting at him to wake, he assumed. Not true, he thought. I can still feel enough to not want to hurt her that way, to not want to abandon her....

He made himself sink down again into his body, knowing that the pain that would greet him would be astronomical, knowing that it might be too much to bear. I've borne the pain of Cruciatus, he reminded himself. I've received the Dark Mark. He wasn't ready yet to give up, ready to say that he was too tired to continue, to shoulder on. He still had so much to do....

The second his mind and body and soul were one again, the messages being sent to his brain from the nerve-endings in his back caused him to howl in pain so loudly that it made his throat raw, but he could see, even in the midst of his pain, that Ginny was smiling and laughing hysterically through her tears.

"He's alive!" she screamed to whomever was nearby, clearly having doubted it. The ambulance workers pushed her away, as well as Ron, Hermione and Remus. He saw Draco Malfoy take Ginny in his arms, while she sobbed on him uncontrollably, still wearing Harry's jacket, and the pain continued to push on Harry's brain relentlessly, regardless of the ministrations of the mediwizards; the burns turned every neuron he had into a pain receptor, lighting up his entire mind with more agony than he'd ever experienced. He looked up at Ginny and Draco again, gasping when he saw that Draco Malfoy had transformed into an enormous black dragon, breathing fire at Ginny...she would be engulfed in flames....But a second before the flames reached her, he blinked, and saw that they were both human again, holding each other desperately, and that reasonable voice in the back of his mind said, You're just hallucinating from the pain.

Right, he said to the voice. So make it stop.

His mind was too overwhelmed, and he couldn't withstand the temptation to escape again, through more conventional means this time....

Everything went black.

* * * * *

Harry thought that he had perhaps made a mistake; maybe he had died. Was this heaven? he thought. It looked like no other place he'd ever been.

He had awoken to find himself lying on his stomach in a huge bed with an elaborately-carved headboard and heavy-looking brocade hangings. Raising himself slightly and looking around the room, he saw lush Persian carpets, gilded cornices and picture frames, brocade-upholstered sofas and chairs around the walls, a crystal chandelier and huge French doors which seemed to open onto a balcony; it all came into focus when he put on his glasses, which someone had considerately left on a marble-topped table next to the bed.

It was an overcast day, but candles in sconces all around the room cast a warm glow on everything. He'd never been in such a rich-looking room in his life. Since the illumination was candles, not electric lights, he assumed that he was in a wizarding house. The artwork was all still-lifes and landscapes, so there were no moving people, but when he squinted at a painting above the mantel, opposite the bed, he saw that a light breeze was blowing the marsh grasses depicted therein, and that the clouds in the painted sky were drifting ever so subtly across the expanse of blue. Now this, he thought, is my idea of a room in a castle. He actually liked the homespun simplicity of Ascog Castle, but this room definitely seemed to be more deserving of the "castle" moniker. It might even be a room in a palace, he realized.

He tried to turn over onto his back, and immediately discovered why he'd been sleeping on his stomach; the pain made him sit bolt upright, sweating profusely. Mental note, he thought; don't do that again.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and landed on a soft carpet, his toes sinking into its luxurious depths. In a far corner of the huge room was an oversized mirror, as big as the Mirror of Erised; Harry walked to it, his knees shaking. He saw immediately that it was an ordinary mirror and that he was the same as ever, for the most part. His chest was bare and he wore striped silk pajama trousers which were a couple of inches too short. He ran his fingers through his hair and over the stubble on his cheeks and chin; there would be time for grooming later.

"If you need a shave, the en suite bath is on the other side of the room," the mirror informed him helpfully. He blinked, having forgotten that wizarding mirrors spoke, after spending a week back in the Muggle world. How soon we forget. He turned and saw an open door on the far side of the room; the limited view he had of the fixtures within made him think it was probably on a par with the prefects' bath at Hogwarts. All he could see was beige marble.

"Thanks," he said to the mirror. "Maybe later."

Then he turned and looked over his shoulder at the reflection of his back; there was one enormous piece of cloth somehow adhered to the skin. He assumed that there was some kind of poultice under it, but while the poultice may have been generating new skin for him, it was certainly doing nothing for his pain. He turned again to face his reflection, wondering, Where am I?

Harry touched his scar tentatively; it hadn't hurt since the day Diagon Alley had been attacked and he'd gone down in the pool at Ascog. He'd seen in the news that there had been some scattered Death Eater activity, but nothing in which Voldemort himself had been directly involved. He moved his hand down to reflexively to finger the basilisk amulet hanging around his neck, feeling a warmth and calmness seep into him as he did so. He closed his eyes and saw Ginny in the kitchen at the Burrow, kissing her mother on the cheek and then stepping toward the fireplace. Ron stepped into view then; from the mantel, he took down the flower pot where they kept the Floo powder and held it out to his sister....

Wait a minute, he thought, releasing the amulet, then taking it off and holding it by the chain, staring at the silver metal. This was in my pocket. Who put it around my neck? he wondered. In the chaos that followed Ginny's riding accident, and then the wedding and Fleur, he hadn't given it back to her. He'd continued to carry it around, not trusting himself to wear it, waiting for a good opportunity to give it to her. (He'd probably had several opportunities after returning to the Spinnet house from the church, he realized, before Draco Malfoy had arrived, but he'd been intoxicated with her company and had completely forgotten.)

He wandered back to the bed with it, wondering, but just then a tapestry in the corner started moving and a door concealed behind it started creaking open; he dove for the bed, shoving the amulet under his pillow and sitting up in the middle of the mattress (his back not making contact with anything), clasping the blankets around his waist as he waited to see who was entering (without knocking, he thought irritably).

He was surprised; it was two of the doctors he'd seen when he and Hermione had visited the Diagon Alley casualties. He couldn't remember their names. The man had short red hair (he was the one who had been berating his colleague for not reading his monograph). With him was the blonde witch whom Harry had also seen talking to Narcissa Malfoy at the Quidditch match, the Harpies' team physician.

The doctors seemed surprised to see him awake. "Well! You're looking somewhat improved, I see," the wizard said to Harry. "Told you my burn poultice was the way to go," he muttered to his colleague, making notes on a piece of parchment attached to a clipboard. She was carrying an armful of file folders, much as when Harry and Hermione had seen her. Her mouth twisted.

"Yes, yes, you were right," she said, as though admitting this left a very poor taste in her mouth. As before, they were both wearing peach-colored robes and matching pointed hats. This time, however, her hair was down from its bun, resting in golden curls on her shoulders. She took spectacles from her pocket and placed them across her nose with its little jog and looked down at the top file she was holding.

"At six-hundred hours he was still running a slight fever and his pulse was sluggish," she announced. Looking up, she eyed him critically. "Looks like that's probably passed. We shall see."

She placed her pile of folders on an ornate gilded chair and withdrew her wand from her robe pocket. Standing next to Harry, she placed her hand on his brow, which startled him; most people didn't walk up to him and just start touching his scar. Perfunctorily, as though it were in the way, she picked up his right hand. Harry looked down at his arm, but then he turned his head and saw that there was nothing on his left arm, and he immediately panicked.

"My snake!"

She put his right hand down. Both doctors looked at him quizzically. "Excuse me?" the red-haired wizard asked, his round face very pale.

"I--I have a snake. She's green, about twenty inches long. I usually wear her wrapped around my left arm. I was wearing her when--when I was burned--" He swallowed. Sandy had to be all right...

The witch nodded. "The snake was removed in the ambulance," she said, as though Sandy were a boil or an unsightly mole. "If you wish to have it again--"

"Her! She's--I talk to her. She's not an it."

They looked at each other, eyebrows raised. Harry grimaced. Oh, lovely. Now I'm a raving lunatic to them.

"You don't understand. I'm a Parselmouth," he explained. "Sandy and I--her name is Sandy--we have conversations. She's not really a pet. She's a friend."

But if he thought that was going to make them more understanding, he was sadly mistaken. "A Parselmouth!" the wizard said, going even paler. The witch looked at Harry very suspiciously. He was glad he didn't tell them that snakes had the Sight.

"Can we get on with it? Your snake is safe. She will be returned to you before you leave." She lifted his right hand again and placed the point of her wand under his arm, making him recoil and giggle in what he felt was a very undignified way.

"Sorry," he said, trying not to laugh any more. "That tickles."

She frowned at him and he tried not to flinch this time when she placed the tip of her wand in his armpit. To his surprise, numbers began to appear on the handle.

"I didn't know you could use a wand like a thermometer," he said, trying to be conversational. She withdrew the wand and looked at the numbers as though he hadn't said anything.

"Normal," she announced to the other doctor, who was writing with a long green quill that appeared to have come from a parrot. Then she suddenly looked at him and said, "I think I liked you better when you were unconscious."

"Anderssen...." the other doctor said in a warning voice. Harry turned and looked at her again. Seeing her at close range like this, a thought was struggling to swim up from the depths of his confused memories of two lives....That was it! He knew who she was now!

"Nita?" he said to her tentatively. She jerked her head up and glared at him suspiciously.

"How do you know my name?" she demanded suddenly. Then he realized he shouldn't have done that.

"Er, I know Draco. Your cousin."

She looked less suspicious now, but no more friendly. "Ah, yes. The one who knows nothing about family loyalty."

The other doctor was the one glaring now, but at her, not Harry. "I'll excuse myself now, if you don't mind, Anderssen. Don't forget that meeting," he added, tapping his watch and raising his eyebrows. He looked at Harry for a moment as though he was concerned, but it didn't keep him from leaving.

Harry turned to her, bristling. "Draco doesn't know about family loyalty because he helped put his dad away?"

"Why else? And thanks to him, my poor Aunt Cissy is just that--poor. She's been living with me ever since Uncle Lucius went to prison."

"Well, maybe she should ask whoever lives here about making a contribution to the Narcissa Malfoy Rich and Idle Fund," he said, waving his arms at the opulent room. "Obviously no expense was spared in the creation of this place..."

She went red with fury now. "How dare you!"

"What?" he said, truly bewildered. "I appreciate that someone opened his home to me and arranged for doctors from St. Mungo's to come see me and all, but--"

"This is not a private home," she said between gritted teeth. He stared.

"Oh. Are we at Hogwarts?" He wondered whether it was some elaborate, seldom-used chamber for state dignitaries. It turned out he wasn't far off the mark.

"No. We are at St. Mungo's."

He frowned at her now. "No, we're not. I've been to St. Mungo's, and this is definitely not St. Mungo's."

"Oh really?" she answered, crossing her arms, her wand still in hand. She looked over her spectacles at him. "Take a look, if you don't believe me."

He rose slowly and made his way to the door; he was surprised how heavy the tapestry was that he had to push out of the way. When he put his head out of the room, there were the same long, high Gothic corridors he'd passed through when he and Hermione had visited St. Mungo's. He saw the same wimpled nurses and bored-looking orderlies, going about their business. He pulled his head back into his room, looked around and then peered into the corridor again, in case it was some sort of portal, like the doorways at the Ministry of Magic. Finally, he closed the door and returned to his bed.

"I don't understand. Why is this here?"

She waved her hands. "You were brought to the Minister's room. Not my decision, but you know how some people are. Harry Potter is in hospital, we must take him to the Minister's room--" she said in a snide, high-pitched voice.

He frowned. "The Minister's--?"

She rolled her eyes. "The Minister of Magic. Surely you've heard of him?"

He stared around at the opulence. "So, when Fudge comes here, this is where he stays?"

"That's right. It's only fitting that--"

"That's disgusting!" he exclaimed, wondering if he would have dared do this with the other doctor in the room.

"What are you talking about?" she said impatiently.

"What do you think I'm talking about? This--" he waved his hands, "--this is obscene! All those grungy wards and corridors, and that entrance hall that could use a coat of paint, or at least a decent cleaning....How could so much money be squandered on a room for one person?"

She drew herself up and looked very proud. "I'll have you know that my uncle paid for this room himself. No money was taken from the operating budget for the hospital."

Harry remembered Cornelius Fudge saying at the Quidditch World Cup that Malfoy had just made a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's. For this, he thought, his stomach turning. No wonder Fudge was always defending him, he realized, almost wishing that he was back in his other life, where Fudge had never advanced further than being an Inquisitor. Even Barty Crouch, for all that he had the poor judgment to break his son out of jail, would never have approved something like this, Harry thought, looking around again, frowning.

"If it weren't for my uncle, I wouldn't be a doctor!" she continued vehemently. "When they didn't want to take me in the training program here, he was the one who convinced the board to accept me, even though I'm not a wizard! And other witches have been accepted since then. I was the first. So don't you sit there, benefiting from my care, and say anything against my uncle! Now lie on your stomach!"

Harry glared at her for a moment, then did as he was told. She began to peel back the bandage on his back; he winced. It was still incredibly painful. To distract himself, he looked around at the room again, feeling far more disgusted with Cornelius Fudge than Lucius Malfoy, if he were to tell the truth. Glancing at her over his shoulder for a second, he then turned and pillowed his head on his arms, remembering the one time he had met Nita Anderssen in his other life....

It was another Malfoy Christmas party. Harry and Draco were in their third year; Jamie in first. They had grown out of playing Paper Chase, and were no longer confined to the nursery during parties (not that they had ever stayed there), but they

had been warned not to eavesdrop on adults' conversations. This meant, naturally, that they wanted to eavesdrop on as many adult conversations as possible, and flitted about the party trying to do just that.

They finally decided to station themselves in the entrance hall, concealed behind three suits of armor standing in a niche; from here they could see everyone entering the party. Narcissa Malfoy swept into the hall soon after they had concealed themselves; she was greeting her brother and his wife and their daughter, who had just arrived for the party.

"Nils!" she said rapturously to an older wizard whose face was remarkably like hers, his grey and blond hair blending into silver. She seemed like she was going to kiss him on the cheek and then purposefully missed it; the same almost-kiss maneuver was repeated with her willowy sister-in-law, who was also silver-blonde. Then she looked at her niece, who was as tall as her, with golden blond hair pulled back into a tight bun and hard blue eyes behind her spectacles. She was wearing long black robes and carrying a heavy book. Narcissa Malfoy, in contrast, had donned sapphire-blue robes with silver threads permeating the fabric, so that she sparkled as she moved. She looked critically at her niece's attire, which contrasted starkly with the festive holiday decorations in the hall.

"Ah, Nita. You, er, brought reading. And you're wearing black. How--

festive," she said weakly.

Nita grimaced. "I'm sorry, Aunt Cissy. I didn't have time to work on an outfit like yours. I've been revising constantly. After the new year I'm taking my Matron examinations."

Narcissa Malfoy smiled, something Harry rarely saw, and hugged her niece with what looked like genuine affection. "I know, dear. We're all frightfully proud of you, you know. Youngest Matron at St. Mungo's ever! Before you know it, you'll be in charge of the entire nursing staff!" Nita frowned.

"If I ever

am in charge, I am immediately changing the uniform for nurses. I hate wimples," she grumbled. "And even being the youngest Matron ever isn't as good as being a doctor."

"Now, now. Nurses are very important, you know that. And witches don't become doctors; wizards become doctors. You know how proud of you we all are, don't you? I

told Lucius that you would be a worthwhile investment. I plan to be quite smug about that for years to come," she added, smiling at the younger woman.

Beside Harry, Jamie yawned, bored. "After they're gone," she whispered to Harry and Draco, "let's go find the twins and have some fun." Harry knew that she meant "fun at the twins' expense," but he didn't mind that, so he nodded.

However, just as Narcissa Malfoy and the Anderssens left the hall, a tall bespectacled wizard with thinning red hair abruptly Apparated into the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor. His robes were plain and black, quite utilitarian, and it was clear that he was not there for the annual Malfoy Christmas Party. In fact, Harry thought, he knew he'd seen the wizard before, but not at the Malfoys' parties. There were Malfoys nearby, though, he seemed to recall...

Then he remembered; it was at the World Cup in Spain, when he was ten years old. The first time he met Ginny Weasley. The tall wizard was Ginny Weasley's father. Remembering how badly that encounter had gone, Harry shrank back behind Draco and Jamie. He wondered whether Ron Weasley and his brothers had told their father that he was stalking Ginny. He swallowed, trying to come up with a plausible way to explain his behavior in a perfectly innocuous manner.

Mr. Weasley had his wand out, but his face actually looked friendly. Hearing the music emanating from the drawing room, he called, "Hullo! Hullo?" He didn't make a move, but seemed to be waiting for someone to come out and speak to him. Draco's mother returned to the entrance hall, clearly keeping an eye out for new arrivals so that she could greet them, as the hostess. She strode purposefully into the grand hall, her hand extended, saying, "Happy Christma--" but stopping, looking dumbly at her newest visitor. "Oh!" she said icily, composing herself. "It's

you." When she wanted to be cold no one could be as cold as Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry cringed, waiting for Mr. Weasley to demand to see

him; instead, he said, "Hello, Narcissa. Er, Happy Christmas. Sorry to burst in on your party this way, but it is very important that I speak to Lucius."

She put her hand in her robe pocket, and Harry thought it was quite possible that she was reaching for her wand. Not taking her eyes off the red-haired wizard, she called, "Lucius! Please come to the entrance hall!" She continued to glare at Mr. Weasley, icy fire in her eyes, her jaw clenched. In less than ten seconds, Draco's father was striding into the hall, his deep blue moiré robes swirling around him, his features contorted in abject hatred upon seeing his visitor.

"Weasley! What the hell are you doing here? I know my wife couldn't have been so stupid as to invite

you! That means you must be crashing my party. Finally figured out that it would be a cold day in hell before you ever received an invitation?"

Arthur Weasley gave him a lopsided smile. "Good to see you too, Lucius. No, I'm not here for the party. I'm here on business. I have a warrant to search the premises." He pulled a piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to Lucius Malfoy. Now that he knew he wasn't the reason for Mr. Weasley's visit, Harry was feeling a little braver, as he peeked out under an arm belonging to one of the suits of armor behind which they were hiding. He could see the official seal of the Ministry of Magic on the parchment. "So," Mr. Weasley was saying now, "if you'll please give us your complete cooperation--"

A moment later, it was evident what he meant by "us;" Harry recognized Frank and Gemma Longbottom, who had suddenly Apparated into the entrance hall with a double

pop! They flanked Mr. Weasley. Draco suddenly grasped Harry's arm painfully and whispered in his ear, "Longbottom's parents!"

Harry nodded, not making a sound. He knew all too well who they were. He looked at Jamie, beside him, who glowered at the Longbottoms, perhaps, like him, remembering when they had come to take away Remus Lupin. Harry and Jamie had not told Draco about that; it was too painful.

The Longbottoms' wands were pointing at Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy; Draco's mother was livid.

"Get out!" she screeched now. "Get out of my house!" She had drawn her wand and was holding it with a shaking hand. The Longbottoms stiffened, poised for action. Harry felt like he couldn't breathe.

"Aunt Cissy!" Nita Anderssen said in surprise, returning to the entrance hall, clearly having heard her aunt cry out. "Whatever--?"

But her question was drowned out by the furious argument now being waged by the Malfoys, the Longbottoms and Mr. Weasley. Harry looked at Draco's cousin Nita, surprised to find her looking right back. She edged over to the suits of armor and glanced into the space behind them, grinning.

"So," she said softly. "What are you lot up to?"

Draco hushed her and she nodded conspiratorially, speaking to them now while surveying the scene before them.

"Are those Aurors?" she asked quietly, nodding at the three intruders, who took no more notice of her than the Malfoys did.

"Not all of them," Draco told her in a low voice. "The red-haired prat is Weasley's dad."

"You mean Percy Weasley? Head Boy at Hogwarts?"

"Nah. Well--I mean, Percy Weasley's Head Boy, all right. More's the pity. But I don't mean him. Ron Weasley. In our year. To call him an insufferable git would be to insult insufferable gits everywhere."

She frowned, then looked up at Mr. Weasley; Harry could see her in profile. Extreme loathing was etched on her face.

"Well, I know

Weasleys. Wouldn't trust one as far as I could throw it. I hope Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissy give him what's coming to him for crashing the party." Her voice shook slightly.

"Yeah, we feel the same way about Weasleys," Draco said. "Well, except for Harry's crush on the little sister. He's always haring after her..."

Harry smacked Draco's arm. "Shut up, you!" he hissed. Nita's eyes narrowed as she turned to look at Harry. She seemed about to say something when Harry's elegantly-attired mother and stepfather suddenly appeared in the entrance hall doorway, interrupting the argument between the Malfoys and their uninvited guests.

"Lucius! Narcissa!" Lily Evans said in that clear, ringing voice which never failed to get her Potions students' attention. "What is going on here?" Her long red hair was laced through with gold strands falling from a simple gold circlet, glittering in the candlelight, and her robes were evergreen brocade.

"Lily," her husband said slowly; "don't you think we should let--"

"What

I think is that I need to talk some sense into my former colleagues!" Harry's mother said sharply, looking daggers at the Longbottoms.

Lucius Malfoy definitely looked like he didn't want a woman fighting his battles for him. "Now, Lily. This is my house--"

"Please, Lucius." She glared at the Longbottoms. "Consider it my Christmas gift to you and Narcissa and Draco," she said between gritted teeth. Severus Snape hurried forward before the Malfoys could change their minds (no one had noticed that Nita had joined the younger children in their hiding place). His bottle-green velvet robes belling out behind him, he herded the Malfoys out of the entrance hall, looking over his shoulder at his wife, then shooting hateful glances at the Aurors flanking Mr. Weasley.

"So, who's that?" Nita whispered to Draco.

"Our mum," Jamie told her softly. Nita nodded. "Right. You look like her. Except for your hair color."

Jamie's mouth was very thin. "Our dad had dark hair." Her response was almost inaudible. Harry looked at her; her large green eyes were shiny with tears, her usual response to any mention of the father she'd never known.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Lily Evans said to the Longbottoms and Mr. Weasley now. "It is

Christmas tomorrow! You know that this is when Lucius and Narcissa have their annual party! And yet you come in here, with your warrant--"

Frank Longbottom lifted his chin. "I don't see why we should show any consideration for You-Know-Who sympathizers."

Harry's mother threw up her hands. "I'm

not a sympathizer, you dolt! As if I could be!" She didn't remind him of how her first husband had died, and from the look on his face it was evident that she didn't need to. "But thanks to the way you and too many other Aurors do their jobs, there are a huge number of people who are somewhere in the middle, not sympathizing with Voldemort, but not terrifically sympathetic to the Ministry either. And I wonder why that might be, eh? Raids during Christmas parties, perhaps?" she said to Mr. Weasley, whose ears turned bright red. She turned on the Longbottoms. "Dragging away a werewolf, who also happens to be a man, in the middle of the night from a house where he is a welcome guest? A house where my children, who adore him, were sleeping? Do you know how difficult it was to explain to my two youngest children in the morning what had happened to Remus? He was going to take them to Diagon Alley. They'd been looking forward to it for ages. But you--!" she cried, her fury making it impossible for her to put more of her emotions into words.

She looked back and forth between the three of them, who looked distinctly uncomfortable now. "May I remind you," she said now, the imminent threat quite clear, "that my husband and I both teach your children?" She looked at Mr. Weasley. "I believe right now that I am teaching

five of yours, Arthur. One of whom is hoping to do well on his N.E.W.T.s and two of whom are slated to be taking their O.W.L.s at the end of the summer term." She turned to the Longbottoms. "And you; I'm teaching two of your three sons right now, and the third one is coming to Hogwarts in a year or two, I believe. Do you feel it is wise to antagonize two of your children's professors in such a manner?"

Harry thought it was mostly his mother, not his stepfather, who was antagonized, but the four of them behind the suits of armor didn't dare let even a whisper pass their lips at this point.

"Get out!" Lily Evans said to the three of them now, her voice echoing off the hard limestone of the floor and walls. Arthur Weasley turned to the Aurors and nodded.

"Go. I will talk to Lily for a moment and join you back at the office."

The Longbottoms hesitated, but Mr. Weasley looked at them again with one eyebrow raised, exerting a surprising influence over them by doing this. They Disapparated with a double

pop! and Arthur Weasley turned to Harry's mother.

"It's--it's good to see you again, Lily. It's been some time," he said quietly. She looked disturbed by his lack of anger toward her, but nodded all the same.

"I think the last time was when Sam and I came to that village where--"

"Yes," he said, clearing his throat, interrupting her. He looked unspeakably sad. Next to him, Harry heard Nita make a small skeptical noise in her throat. He glanced at her, frowning. She was still glaring at Mr. Weasley. Turning back to look at his mother, he saw that she appeared to be a bit sorry now for the way she'd been speaking to Mr. Weasley, and her face softened.

"How is Bill? I heard he's with the Ministry."

Arthur Weasley nodded. "Yes. Transportation. He complains that it's just a lot of forms to fill out--you know, fining people for Apparating without licenses, sorting them out when they splinch themselves, all that--but I daresay they couldn't function without him, what with the labor shortage and all." Lily Evans nodded grimly. "You know," he added, "he was--he was quite broken up about--I mean--when James--"

She lifted her head, looking like she was trying to be brave now. "He sent me a lovely letter."

Arthur nodded. "He had only been serving as Head Boy for two months, at the time. All summer he'd said that if he could be half as good a Head Boy as James Potter, he'd be the second-best one Hogwarts had ever had." Harry thought he saw his mother quickly run the back of her hand across her eyes now. It was very fast; afterward she was standing and speaking to Arthur Weasley in a very dignified manner again.

"We always knew Bill would do well. And Charlie. It's a pleasure to have him on the teaching staff. Harry and Draco are really enjoying Care of Magical Creatures with him."

Arthur nodded. "We're just glad he's closer to home. Romania was so far away...." He cleared his throat and looked at her very seriously. "I'm sorry if those of us who work for the Ministry sometimes come across as martinets, Lily. I wish you could see Lucius Malfoy the way I do--"

Harry knew that she did. She opened her mouth as if to say this, then shut it again quickly and swallowed; perhaps she didn't think it wise to say this in Lucius Malfoy's own house. "I just think--I think the Ministry should spare a little concern for its public image. One must consider how something like this looks, Arthur. A raid on Christmas Eve, during a large party? It's not going to make most people very avid supporters of the Ministry, is it? I mean--Draco is here. And Narcissa's niece. And my four children. And the Parkinsons' daughter, and the Notts....Do you think we want our children seeing this? Seeing the way we adults cannot get along, the way we try to blindside one another and sneak around and--" She seemed to be having trouble breathing suddenly, putting her hand on her chest; Harry clearly saw the tears running down her face.

Arthur Weasley stepped forward, concerned. "Are you all right, Lily? You seem a bit--stressed."

She looked at him, eyes glistening. "You have no idea." She sighed deeply. "Please, Arthur. Come back the day after tomorrow..."

He patted her hand. "Of course. You're right, you're right. I shouldn't have listened to Frank. 'Surprise him,' he said. 'I can't wait to see the look on his face,' he said." Mr. Weasley grimaced. "Well, I for one could have waited."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "And now you shall. But Arthur--"

"What?"

"I--I didn't mean to threaten your children. Before. It's just--ever since I married Severus, Frank and Gemma have been so impossible--"

He smiled at her. "You know how they are about Slytherins. And I'm not saying they're my favorite people. As it is, what with Neville and Ron being best mates, we see them far more than we'd like to." Lily looked sadly at him.

"My condolences," she said, before breaking into a smile. He still smiled back at her.

"Ah, well. You know how it is. We put a good face on it for the children's sake."

She nodded. "Then you

know." She let him think abut that for a moment, before understanding dawned on his face. He knew now how she felt about the Malfoys.

"Ah, ah, I see, I see. Yes. Of course."

She put her hand on his arm and said gently. "Happy Christmas, Arthur. And to Molly as well. And say hello to Bill for me."

"Happy Christmas, Lily," he said with a small smile, before Disapparating.

Harry rested his right cheek on his forearm, trying to remember why that was the only Christmas party where he remembered seeing Nita. He had a vague recollection of Draco's Uncle Nils saying in earlier years that she was at home alone again, revising, and in later years that she had volunteered to work during the holidays. As it was, even though her parents had dragged her to the party he'd just remembered, she had taken a book with her. (Although she had let herself be distracted from her revision by the goings-on in the entrance hall.)

Harry thought about what he remembered; she'd been interested in magical medicine in his other life, also, but in that life she didn't have the opportunity to study to be a doctor, only a nurse. Was that because Voldemort had never fallen? he wondered.

He flinched as she worked. "Can't you just--you know, do a spell or a charm or something to fix the problem?" he said between gritted teeth.

"Hmph! Don't get me started. Clancy is my senior," she said bitterly, continuing to work. "He has set out your treatment. I'm to follow his orders."

As she worked on his back, he had an evil thought. "I didn't know doctors did nurses' work," he said. He turned his head slightly; her eyes were furious now. He had succeeded in winding her up. He didn't look down on nurses; he liked Madam Pomfrey very much. But he knew what her opinion was.

"This is not nurses' work. I wouldn't trust any of them with this." He winced again, wondering whether she wouldn't trust them to cause him enough pain.

"If Voldemort hadn't fallen, you'd probably be a lowly nurse, you know," he dared to say. She stiffened, then continued to work, covering up his back with the bandage again.

"My uncle would have--"

"Your uncle would have killed even more people, given the chance!" he said angrily, rolling over and sitting up, glad she was done. How could she continue to defend him? Even Draco Malfoy didn't do that.

"He didn't kill anyone," she said, crossing her arms, still holding her wand.

"No, he didn't get his hands dirty himself. But he did order the Clearwater family killed. That's his fault."

She was silent, staring at a point over his head. Finally, she met his eyes again. "Fine. I'll give you that. It was wrong. But sending him to prison should have been adequate punishment. There was no reason to make my aunt destitute. She deserves that money far more than--"

"Percy Weasley? I don't know about that. Oh, I don't doubt he'd rather have his fiancée back, rather than the money, but I think it was perfectly reasonable to take the money and give it to him, seeing as your uncle took away his future wife and--well, his future. In that your precious Aunt Cissy never lifted a finger to get him to stop what he was doing or tried to turn him in, I don't see why she deserves to be living in the lap of luxury."

"Turn him in!" she cried. "Like her no-good son! I'll have you know that she has more loyalty than that! I doubt you would ever understand," she added bitterly.

He glared. "I'm loyal to those who deserve it. Loyalty once saved my life, and the lives of three other people." He remembered how glad he had been to see Fawkes flying overhead in the Chamber of Secrets, and to hear the phoenix song....

"Then how do you explain being loyal to the Weasleys?" she asked bitterly, as though this was a contradiction. Harry wondered whether Draco had ever told her about that first time on the Hogwarts Express, when he'd extended his hand to Harry, only to be rejected. "They're practically your adopted family, I understand. No wonder you're defending Percy Weasley getting my aunt's money. If you only knew what the Weasleys really are--"

"What?" he demanded. "What are they, really?" he challenged her. Draco Malfoy and his father must have fed her anti-Weasley propaganda for years before Draco started seeing Ginny, he thought.

Her face had reddened. She didn't answer, but turned on her heel and stalked to the door. When she opened it, she stopped in surprise; four people stood there, about to enter. Ron and Hermione stood looking at her awkwardly, Ginny and Draco Malfoy standing next to them. Malfoy looked very surprised to see his cousin.

"Nita!" he cried.

She glared at him, and then at Ron and Ginny, before pushing past them. They all turned and looked after her for a moment, then gave a collective shrug and entered the room. They quickly forgot about her when they saw the opulent room, their jaws dropping. Oddly enough, instead of questioning the appropriateness of the room, Hermione was the first to recover.

"Harry!" Hermione cried, launching herself at him and throwing her arms around his back to hug him. Harry never knew where the agonized cry he uttered came from; it didn't seem to be from his throat. She pulled back, looking stricken.

"I'm--I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, when the power of speech had returned to him; "but--this really isn't a good time for anyone to be touching my back..."

"Why's that?" Ron said grinning, pulling his hand back as if to slap Harry hard on the back. He stopped his hand a few inches away, as Harry gave him an evil look. Ron laughed. "You know I wasn't going to--"

"Yeah, because I knew you wanted to go on living," he responded, forcing himself to laugh too.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised him. "It's not funny!"

Harry looked at Ginny and Draco. "Hello," he said quietly to them. Ginny swallowed and looked at him, her eyes very wide; he could see she was trembling. Draco Malfoy looked a bit uncomfortable. Harry nodded at him.

"Draco." He forced himself to use the first name. He remembered the fury in his face when he had blasted the fireball out of the air, the fireball which could have killed him; and then cursing Fleur....

"Harry," Draco responded after a moment; Harry thought it was possible Ginny had nudged him with her elbow to get him to speak.

"Thanks," Harry said to him now. Draco Malfoy frowned at him.

"For what?"

"Well, um, you saved my life."

Draco paused. "I guess that makes us even." Then he narrowed his eyes. "Wait--how do you know? Who told you?"

Harry shrugged. "I saw you."

"You did?"

He looked at Ginny now. "The reason why it seemed so hard for people to revive me was that I wasn't really there. Not completely. I used the pain-blocking technique, where I'm sorting of floating above my own body, able to see everything going on around me...."

Understanding flooded Draco Malfoy's face now. "Oh," he said, drawing it out. Ginny's mouth opened and closed several times before she spoke.

"That's why you--you--"

"Sorry," he said softly to her. "I rather got the impression that you--you thought I was dead. I didn't mean to frighten--anyone." He'd been about to say "frighten you" and changed it at the last moment.

She whispered, "I'm just glad you're all right."

Draco Malfoy put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against him, kissing her brow. She looked at him sadly, and Harry wondered how she was feeling about him now; she seemed very solicitous, and frankly, he didn't blame her. Draco Malfoy appeared to be very emotionally fragile suddenly. He turned to Harry again, his voice cracking. "I need to say thanks, too, Harry."

"For what?"

"For saving Ginny," he said, looking down into her eyes again. Now Harry understood; it wasn't that Draco Malfoy was suddenly in the business of being nice to Harry Potter, or even paying Harry back for saving him from the giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest. He had kept Fleur from hurling the ball of fire at him because he had saved Ginny from the same fate.

"How--how is Fleur?" Harry asked now, to change the subject. His four visitors all looked at each other uncertainly; Draco Malfoy looked particularly uncomfortable. Hermione finally illuminated him.

"Oh, Harry--she's very bad. She's in a room upstairs in the mental ward--a padded cell, really. Just sitting in the corner, rocking. The--the pain from the Hara Kiri curse--it was too much for her--" She glanced nervously at Draco Malfoy, then away.

Harry frowned. "So--just having the curse on her the one time--it had the same effect as Cruciatus being put on the Longbottoms for a long time? You're sure she's not just in shock? Maybe she'll come out of it."

"That would be nice, but so far the damage appears to be permanent," she said quietly. "You see--well, first I think Malfoy was very keyed up when he cast the spell. And then there's--"

"--there's the Obedience Charm--" Harry said for her.

She nodded. "Increasing his power. And added to that--" She bit her lip and looked down; she seemed a bit green. He waited for her, but finally he couldn't wait any longer.

"What?"

Ginny finally spoke. "Fleur is pregnant."

Harry's jaw dropped. "What?"

Malfoy finally spoke, very mechanical, as though he was trying to keep his voice devoid of emotion. "When I had that curse put on me by my dad, he wasn't doing it in a life-and-death situation. He wasn't all worked up. It wasn't as strong. And even when I--when I used that spell myself, other times, I wasn't so--so--" His self-control collapsed, and he looked worse than Harry had ever seen him in this life, almost as bad as when the Draco Malfoy in his other life was mourning Jamie Potter. Understanding dawned on Harry.

"Right," he said softly. "And while you were imagining that you were disemboweling yourself, which is horrible enough, you weren't imagining that you were cutting yourself open and removing your own child from the womb--" He swallowed hard. "No wonder it overwhelmed her," he whispered.

"And no wonder she showed up at the Spinnets' like that," Hermione said softly, swallowing, looking like she didn't want to think about what Fleur had imagined when Draco had cursed her. "It also provides another explanation for why she was so powerful. When a witch is expecting a baby--it augments her magic for a while. The power grows at first, then dwindles as the delivery date approaches. Fleur is about twenty weeks along, the doctors said. That's about half-way, so she was at her strongest. That helped her a bit. The doctors say that physically, she's fine and the baby is fine. Well--I should say, from the neck down, she's fine--"

"But her mind--?" Harry prompted her. Hermione shook her head. "She's gone. She's said a word here and there in French, but even that doesn't make any sense. No one can reach her. It was--it was just too much for her to bear."

Harry saw that Draco had dark circles under his eyes; he'd never seen him so adversely affected by something he'd done. Usually he erected a façade of being utterly pleased with himself, no matter what he did, no matter the result. He wasn't even bothering with that now. The self-loathing was emanating from him like heat, and Harry found himself unable to say anything critical.

"Draco didn't know she was pregnant," he said to Hermione. "He--he meant well."

The blond boy brought his head up abruptly, looking suspiciously at Harry for some sign of sarcasm, but found none. "That doesn't change what I did," he said quietly, surprising Harry.

"No," he agreed. "That's true." He couldn't argue with that. Then he thought about what Hermione had said about Fleur's pregnancy. "Hermione--twenty weeks ago would have been--mid-April, roughly. That was--that was after I saw Roger and Alicia at the Hogsmeade school."

Ron frowned. "What?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He was sneaking around with Alicia in March. Possibly before that, but I saw them in March. Fleur didn't get pregnant until mid-April. He must have been seeing both of them at once. And then we all received wedding invitations at the end of July, when Fleur was about sixteen weeks along. At that point, you'd think it would be Roger and Fleur announcing their wedding, not Roger and Alicia, right? I mean, if he was seeing two girls and had to choose one to marry at that point, you'd think it would be the one carrying his child."

He remembered the way Roger Davies had been behaving when Fleur was attacking. He'd been protecting her. He must have known she was pregnant. And he'd told Alicia that it was her Fleur was after. Hermione had been wrong; Fleur didn't have a bone to pick with Roger. She wanted Alicia out of the way....

He looked up at them all. "I thought Alicia was marrying Roger because he was threatening her in some way, or perhaps threatening her family. I'm not so sure about that now--"

Ginny frowned. "You don't think Alicia's threatening Roger, do you? And that's why he couldn't be with Fleur--?"

He shook his head. "No. I still think someone's threatening Alicia or her family, and that's why she married Roger. But I don't think Roger's the one doing the threatening, see. He still seems to care a lot about Fleur. I think he may even have known she was carrying his child. I believe that the same person who's threatening Alicia is also threatening Roger." The four of them looked at him in amazement. "I think that someone is manipulating both Alicia and Roger, and Fleur was caught in the middle. For some reason, someone wants Roger and Alicia to be married, and they don't care what Roger and Alicia want. The question is--who?"

"And why?" Ron said ominously. Then he opened his eyes wide and hit his head. "Oh! I almost forgot! What I heard Roger and Alicia talking about!"

Harry had forgotten about that too. "What did you hear?" he said anxiously.

Ron looked grim. "This may explain a bit. Roger and Alicia--well, they're going to be working to get her father elected to Parliament."

Harry looked at him blankly. "Yeah, I know. She told me already. That's what you had to tell me?"

Hermione swatted Ron with the back of her hand. "That wasn't the important part, Ron. Don't you remember what else you told me? About the whip?"

Ron frowned. "Yeah, but that's the part I didn't understand. They said that once they got her father elected, all they'd need to do was get the whip out of the way, and her dad would have a clear path. And you got all excited about that. But--I don't get it. What's so big about getting a whip out of the way?"

She rolled her eyes. "I didn't realized you didn't know what they were really saying, Ron. The whip is a person. Or rather, two people. There's a majority whip and a minority whip. The whip is the person in the party who gets all of the other people in the party to vote the same way. Or tries to. The whip is a very powerful, important person. Normally, a newly-elected member of Parliament doesn't stand a chance of having any power or influence. But if they're planning to get rid of the people who already have the power and influence, that would change. Although I imagine they'd have to get rid of more than just the current whips...there are probably other people who imagine they'd be next in line if a whip position opened up...."

Harry frowned. "Which means even more people could be in danger. So. Someone made Roger leave Fleur and start seeing Alicia, but he didn't obey, strictly speaking. And even though she seemed to be under the influence of a spell or potion at first, perhaps once she found out that the objective was to get her dad elected and into a position of power, she decided not to fight it....So Alicia isn't as innocent as she might seem. Or she really has been threatened, so she doesn't dare tell her father that if he wins, it might be because of something illegal she and Roger have done. If Roger and Alicia are going along with this because they've been threatened, when you think about it, Fleur is the one who's really been wronged...." He didn't add that she'd been further wronged by Draco Malfoy putting the Hara Kiri Curse on her.

They were all silent for a minute. Harry saw that Ginny and Draco seemed very cozy together, and for once, he didn't mind. He could see that Draco Malfoy was torn up inside by what he'd done. Developing a conscience, Harry thought. That I wouldn't have predicted.

When the awkward silence had stretched for an uncomfortable period of time, Harry quietly said, "Draco, for the past two years people have been telling me that it's not my fault Cedric died. I'll probably always feel responsible anyway."

His mouth twisted. "Yes, but you're not the one who cursed him. And no matter what I've done in my life, until now, I didn't go about attacking pregnant women." Harry grimaced; this was going to take time. He decided not to push.

"Your cousin Nita's one of my doctors. She says your mum has been staying with her." Draco nodded.

"I know. Just because she disowned me doesn't mean I don't feel the need to know where she is."

"Nita's rather down on you, just so you know. And down on Weasleys, as well."

Draco Malfoy shrugged. "What do you think she grew up hearing? My Uncle Nils was in school with your dad, you know," he said, nodding at Ron and Ginny, "and my mum was several years ahead of your oldest brother. And then there's my dad and your dad....No love lost there. There are loads of reasons for her thinking I'm a turncoat," he added, tightening his grip on Ginny.

"When did she start at Hogwarts?" Harry asked.

Draco shook his head. "She didn't go to Hogwarts. Durmstrang." So that's the same in this life, Harry thought. "My aunt's Swedish, works for their Ministry of Magic in Magical Games and Sports. She and Uncle Nils live in Kopparberg most of the year; her biggest job is organizing the annual broom race from Kopparberg to Arjeplog. It's always on New Year's Eve. Father was going to take me in fifth year, as a reward, after--" He swallowed. "After I was initiated. See, the spectators all start out in Kopparberg, then Apparate to Arjeplog to congratulate the survivors. He needed to wait until I knew how to Apparate to take me."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "The survivors?"

"The course goes through a dragon reservation," Harry explained to her. "The trophy looks like a Swedish Short-Snout." He remembered that he and Draco, when they were best friends, talked about the day they'd be able to Apparate so they could go to the race. Harry tried not to laugh at the way Hermione shuddered; if there was one thing Hermione liked less than flying, it was probably dragons. He recalled the way she'd scratched up her own face, worrying over him during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament. And she was definitely glad to see the last of Norbert, the Norwegian Ridgeback.

"So, you speak Swedish?" he said suddenly to Draco, remembering that he'd only pretended to speak Swedish in his other life.

"Nah. My mum does, though. I never did get to see the broom race in fifth year, and I only visited them in Sweden two other times. Usually they came to see us at the holidays. And for years, Nita stayed at Durmstrang during the Christmas and Easter hols. I hardly ever saw her. Mum was big on visiting her brother a lot, though. She was very close to Nita. Treated her like a little sister. They're actually not that far apart in age. Well, they're about as far apart as Mum and Uncle Nils. She's the one who--"

"--got your father to talk people here into taking Nita for doctor's training. I know. She said." Harry thought of pointing out that Lucius Malfoy had also paid for the magnificent room they were in, but he stopped himself. Hermione would launch a tirade far worse than his if she knew about that. There was some awkward silence.

"Anyway," Ron said abruptly, bringing a bag out from behind his back. "I brought you a few things." He started taking items out of the bag and laying them on the bed. "Quidditch Through the Ages, Flying with the Cannons, and your Omnioculars, so you can watch the Cannons/Harpies game again, if you like. Oh, and Hermione thought you might want your N.E.W.T. book," he added, with a sidelong glance at Hermione, to see whether she had detected the humor in his voice. Harry grinned.

"Thanks. But tomorrow's the first. I don't know when they're letting me out of here. I'd hate to miss the feast tomorrow night."

"Oh, before we came in, we saw a Dr. Clancy in the corridor and asked him about you," Hermione said. "He said you won't be able to take the Hogwarts Express, but they'll take you right to Hogwarts tomorrow evening in an ambulance, so you won't miss the feast. You are Head Boy, after all. Can't be missing that."

Harry grinned at her, then frowned almost immediately. "But what about my other things?"

"Don't worry, Harry," Ron told him. "I went to Ascog for this lot and Sirius is going to bring the rest of your things to Hogwarts for you. He's staying for the feast, he said. He wanted to come with us to see you, and Remus too, but--" He hesitated.

"What?"

"Well, the operatives are very busy, suddenly. I think they're worried about something big happening soon. Snape's in on it too. But he and Sirius both say they'll be at the castle for the feast tomorrow night."

"I hope that's not just optimism talking," Harry said darkly, remembering that Severus Snape had been missing most of the previous year.

Hermione looked grim. "That's what we all hope," she said quietly. Harry found himself looking at Ginny, feeling very guilty about this now, as she stood with Draco Malfoy's arm around her. The boy who had saved his life. She'd been very quiet.

"How are you?" he asked her now. He realized now that he'd pushed her to the ground rather violently just before he was hit by the fireball, and just the day before she'd taken a bad fall from a horse. He'd been very angry with Draco Malfoy about that, and even more so when Draco had claimed to not know why the horse had bolted. Unfortunately, Harry had felt he couldn't reveal that he'd seen him slap Ginny's horse when he'd held the amulet. Plus, at the Spinnets', Ginny had told the doctor that the horse had been spooked for no apparent reason, covering up for Draco. Harry had claimed he just happened on her, so that made all three of them lying about what had occurred. And, he remembered, I still haven't given her the amulet...

Ginny gave him a small smile. "I'm fine." She looked sideways at Ron, cautiously, as though he might contradict her. Their visit was cut short, though, when a nurse came into the room with a tray of food for Harry. She told the four that they needed to go and let Harry rest. Hermione leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek, and Ginny followed suit, her lips lingering for just a moment as Harry looked into her eyes, his heart aching. Ron and Draco both nodded at him and then they were gone and Harry was left alone with his food.

He toyed with the mashed potatoes and limp beans with his fork, feeling rather lonely. Pushing the tray away, he fell onto his stomach again, idly leafing through the Cannons book, watching Quidditch players fly about on the pages.

He wasn't sure how long he'd lain there when there was a knock on the heavy door. "Come in," he said, not looking up from his book. He heard the door open and feet walking toward him. He reckoned it was a nurse or an orderly, taking his tray away, but he was completely unprepared for the hands that clamped themselves onto his head, and the all-too-familiar voice, sounding just as it had in the tent in Surrey.

"Believe!" the voice cried.

Harry's head felt like it was going to explode. Then--he saw light behind his eyelids. And there was rain, blessed rain. Suddenly, he was standing in a bright field, naked, and cool, soothing water was cascading over him. He didn't have his glasses on, but he could see everything around him with complete clarity. The rain fell on his face, and he grinned, looking up, holding his arms out, welcoming it. His hair was plastered wetly against his head, he felt the rain rolling in rivulets down his back, and then he felt tongue after tongue of water moving on his back, not just down, following gravity, but up, down, sideways, in circles, soothing the skin, renewing it, and he felt the most amazing inner peace and happiness, and knew that everything was going to be all right....

He slowly opened his eyes; he saw the headboard of the bed and his pillow in the flickering candlelight. It was night; he didn't know how long he'd been lying there, how long he'd been imagining standing in the field, in the rain. His breathing was steady and slow. He felt--remarkable. Rodney Jeffries has healed me. He didn't know how Jeffries had gotten into St. Mungo's, how he'd even known Harry was there, or what room he was in. He knew security was tight since the Diagon Alley attack. A hospital was meant to be a safe place; a sanctuary. He wasn't sure he felt so safe any more. And yet--it wasn't a Death Eater or someone else with evil intentions who had come into his room. He was certain that Jeffries had healed him. He raised himself on his arms and as the muscles in his back moved, he could tell that the bandage and poultice were no longer on it. Harry looked over his shoulder, expecting to see Rodney Jeffries.

The room was empty. Harry scrambled to his feet and ran to the door, looking frantically up and down the high corridor, then turning and looking at the Minister's room again.

Whoever had healed him was no longer there.

Then he saw that, in his haste, he'd caused a parchment to fall to the floor from the bed. He bent over and picked it up.

Dear Harry,

I hope that you are feeling better and that I was able to be helpful. That is all I have ever wanted. You may have already surmised some of the truth about me. As you may have suspected, I was a Squib, before the Westminster attack. Now I am something else. I hesitate to call myself a wizard, as I am not credentialed. I merely have some magical abilities that I have striven to use for good. Whether I have always succeeded is a matter of some debate, I suppose, but that has always been my goal.

After I saw you in Surrey, I was afraid that Aurors might pursue me and attempt to keep me from helping people, since I assumed that you have powerful protectors following you always. I discovered, of course, that that is not the case, but only after I put memory charms on my staff and discharged them. Their disappearances made headlines, but their reappearances didn't, of course. They are all with their families once more.

By the time you read this I will be gone from St. Mungo's. Having healed you, I know that I cannot refrain from sharing this gift any longer. Since I saw you in Surrey, I've been going mad, not daring to help people who need it. I have decided that I will no longer be frightened of doing what I know is right. I'm afraid I have something of a major difference of opinion with the rest of the wizarding world on this subject. I believe that with great power comes great responsibility. (Yes, I'm quoting someone else. I don't remember who. But I believe he was right.) I don't believe that those with magical ability should shut themselves away for fear that Muggles will demand magical solutions to everything, or in fear that the witch hunts of the Middle Ages will be reborn. I believe it is our obligation to provide these solutions that Muggles do not have. I believe it is woefully irresponsible to keep from the vast majority of mankind information that could help eradicate deadly diseases, hunger, poverty, war. I believe it is irresponsible to see someone suffering and refuse to help because of ideological considerations.

I want to be able to live with myself again. I want to know that my life has purpose and meaning and that I have made a difference and changed people's lives for the better. I could have left without telling you any of this, but I felt you should know. Having helped you, I know that I cannot remain hidden away, keeping my abilities to myself. I plan to resume the work in which I was engaged before. I know there will be obstacles, both in the wizarding and Muggle worlds, but I will not let those obstacles stop me. From what I know of you since you started Hogwarts, I believe that if you were in my position, you would do the same thing.

I hope your aunt is doing well and that you have a good term.

Regards,

Rodney Jeffries

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