A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 11

"Defence"

"What do I do to ignore them behind me?

Do I follow my instincts blindly?

Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams

And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?

Do I sit here and try to stand it?

Or do I try to catch them red-handed?

Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness,

Or do I trust nobody and live in loneliness?

If I turn my back I'm defenceless

And to go on blindly seems senseless.

If I hide my pride and let it all go on

Then they'll take from me till everything is gone."

Linkin Park, "By Myself"

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"... making friends with Potter and his Muggle-loving mates, mouthing off to Nott, and now hexing Vince," Goyle yelled. "You're turning against your own house, Malfoy."

Harry was stunned at the scene before him. Goyle was holding Malfoy in a standing position with his hands pinned behind his back, while Crabbe pounded his face and torso with his fists. Malfoy's wand was lying uselessly on the ground near Harry's feet, yet Harry could see that Crabbe's face was covered with painful-looking boils; Malfoy had obviously managed one good hex before he lost his wand.

The Gryffindor had been sneaking down to the Potions classroom for Occlumency under his invisibility cloak when he heard the voices. He instinctively reacted without really thinking about whom he would be helping. Harry extracted his own wand from his pocket and started pulling off his invisibility cloak, but he froze when he heard his own name, groaning inaudibly as he realized he was partly the cause of Malfoy's troubles. He had already caused his friends grief, now he had progressed to causing problems for people he didn't even like. He knew if he revealed himself and helped Malfoy, he would only make things worse. But he couldn't just stand there and let the Slytherin get beaten to a pulp, either.

Malfoy spoke, managing to sound defiant despite his slurred speech. "Nott told you to rough me up, didn't he? You two never could think for yourselves."

In response, Goyle threw him to the ground, and the two burly Slytherins continued the attack on Malfoy with their feet. But Malfoy's hands were no longer pinned behind his back, and Harry suddenly had an idea.

He crouched down close to Malfoy's wand and whispered the banishment charm, hoping the Slytherin would react before his attackers did. He held his breath as the wand skidded toward Malfoy and watched the Slytherin's eyes widen as he caught sight of it. In one fluid movement, Malfoy grabbed his wand, rolled to his back, and hexed both of the other Slytherins. Harry wasn't sure what hex Malfoy used, but they both appeared to be unconscious.

Malfoy painfully pushed himself into a sitting position, looking up and down the hall, presumably wondering how his wand had suddenly appeared. Harry felt it might be better if he didn't reveal himself, so he just watched until the injured Slytherin had dragged himself to his feet and started to limp down the hall, hopefully toward the hospital wing. Only then did he continue quietly to Snape's office, musing about Malfoy as he went.

For the most part, Malfoy seemed to be avoiding Harry and his friends, but when they did encounter him, he acknowledged them politely, if a little bitterly. The Slytherin had come to the last DA meeting, and this time, no one had objected. Nonetheless, no one would partner him when they practiced duelling, so Shacklebolt had stepped up to work with him while Harry walked around observing the others.

He was still thinking about Malfoy when he reached Snape's office, and by the time the Potions Master had deducted points for his tardiness, insulted his messy hair, and raised his wand to start their lesson, Harry had an idea. When Snape shouted, "Legilimens!" Harry deliberately filled his mind with images of Malfoy's beating.

"Ten more points from Gryffindor for failing to clean out your brain before you came, Potter!" Snape barked. "What is that? A fantasy of yours?"

Harry opened his eyes wide and slowly shook his head, trying to communicate the reality of the images without words. Snape's eyes widened almost imperceptibly as he stared at Harry for a moment. "You know, Malfoy wouldn't thank you to meddle in an internal Slytherin House matter, and neither do I."

"I haven't said a word, sir."

The Potions Master stared at Harry with an unreadable expression for a few moments. Harry fully expected him to take house points for his interference, but the thought didn't bother him. He knew what it felt like to be the punching bag, and he refused to ignore it the way everyone had when Dudley and his friends had beaten him.

After staring defiantly at his professor for what seemed like several minutes, Harry was surprised when Snape simply raised his wand and resumed their lesson. Harry put the images of the Slytherins out of his mind and concentrated on defending himself against the spell.

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Ron insisted the team sit together at the first Quidditch match of the season, though he allowed Hermione to join them. Harry found himself wedged between Ron and Ginny as he watched the Slytherin and Hufflepuff teams take the pitch.

"I heard Daphne Greengrass was commentating," said Ginny, leaning across Harry to address Ron. Harry got a whiff of something sweet and familiar as her hair whipped by his face; it smelled like apples.

An expletive slipped from Ron's lips, and he ignored the familiar glare from Hermione that his language earned. "She's bound to be biased toward Slytherin."

"Well, Lee was always biased toward Gryffindor," Hermione pointed out.

"He was not!" Ron protested, turning toward his girlfriend with an outraged expression.

Harry caught Ginny rolling her eyes and grinned at her. He agreed with Hermione, but decided it would be best to distract Ron before the row escalated. "Oi - they're starting," he said with an elbow to Ron's ribs.

Madam Hooch tossed the Quaffle into the air, and it was immediately caught by a Slytherin Chaser who didn't even pause as he sped toward the Hufflepuff Keeper. The three Slytherin Chasers were very good, working in concert to get the Quaffle to the goalposts while avoiding the Bludgers and the opposing Chasers. The Hufflepuff Keeper, on the other hand, seemed to need a little more time to warm up, and Slytherin scored easily within the first two minutes.

"... and Pucey easily gets the Quaffle past Stebbins - Slytherin scores!" rang out the clear, precise voice of Daphne Greengrass. She sounded jubilant that her house had scored, but Harry had to admit that she was being much less biased than Lee Jordan had been.

Harry used the time while the teams were regrouping after the goal to observe the Seekers. Matthew Summerby, the Hufflepuff Seeker, was flying in lazy circles above the pitch, his head in constant motion as his eyes sought the Golden Snitch. Malfoy appeared to be flying more slowly than usual, favouring his left arm, and turning his head cautiously, presumably still sore from his beating the night before. Harry guessed that he was actually waiting for the other Seeker to make a move instead of looking for the Snitch himself. This didn't seem like a very wise move to Harry. If Malfoy was really as sore as he was acting, he would certainly have trouble out-flying Summerby.

Harry's attention was drawn back to the Chasers when the Hufflepuff section of the stands exploded into cheers.

"... and Hufflepuff scores, tying the score at ten-ten!" said Daphne, sounding slightly less enthusiastic than she had when Slytherin had scored.

Slytherin took possession of the Quaffle again, heading toward the other end of the pitch. The Hufflepuff Keeper seemed to be more alert this time, and Slytherin was unable to score before the ball was intercepted by a Hufflepuff Chaser. Crabbe wasted no time in hitting a Bludger toward the offending player, who dropped the Quaffle while trying to dodge. But one of the other Hufflepuff Chasers ducked underneath her, grabbing the ball before Slytherin could react.

Harry attempted to watch the action surrounding the Quaffle while keeping an eye on the Seekers. Both sets of Chasers were good, but the Slytherin Chasers seemed to anticipate each other's actions. The Keepers were evenly matched, but Crabbe and Goyle were clearly superior to Hufflepuff's Beaters, hitting the Bludgers with frightening force and accuracy.

The Quaffle travelled up and down the pitch several times over the next twenty minutes, but the score remained unchanged. The Hufflepuff Chasers seemed to be tiring slightly under the constant barrage of Bludgers from Crabbe and Goyle.

"... and there goes Summerby - has he seen the Snitch?" called Daphne. Suddenly everyone's attention turned to the Seekers.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was slightly ahead, but Malfoy was gaining on him. Harry could barely see the small, golden ball darting just out of Summerby's reach. There was no sign of soreness in Malfoy's movements as he caught up to the other Seeker and stretched out his left arm. Harry could almost feel his determination to win at all costs, having experienced it himself.

"Slytherin scores!" shouted Daphne, "bringing the tally to twenty ... wait ... Draco Malfoy catches the Snitch! Slytherin wins - one seventy to ten!"

Harry watched as Malfoy drifted toward the ground, the Snitch held high above his head. He nodded slightly and said, "Well done," earning an amazed stare from Ginny and an angry one from Ron.

"What are you on about?" Ron spat.

"It was a great catch," Harry said with a shrug. "As a Seeker, I can appreciate that."

"Look!" shrieked Hermione, pointing toward Malfoy.

Harry looked up just in time to see a Bludger smash into the left side of Malfoy's head, knocking him off his broom. Fortunately, he had almost reached the ground and didn't have far to fall, but the blow had clearly rendered him unconscious.

Harry looked around wildly, muttering, "Who hit it?" He couldn't believe either of the Hufflepuff Beaters would do something so clearly unfair. Then he saw Madam Hooch rushing toward Crabbe and grabbing his arm, obviously telling him off.

"Crabbe did it?" Hermione said, disbelief evident in her voice. "But that doesn't make sense - Malfoy just won the game."

"Well, no one ever said he was smart," said Ron. Harry looked around for Goyle, but didn't see him. Crabbe looked odd without his constant companion.

Snape levitated Malfoy's limp form and left the pitch, accompanied by several professors. Madam Hooch exited in another direction, dragging Crabbe with her. Once the drama was over, the students began filing out of the stands.

As Harry made his way back to the castle with the other Gryffindors, his mind kept wandering to the hospital wing. He found himself hoping the Slytherin Seeker was alright, but then shoved the feeling aside, reminding himself that he didn't like Malfoy and didn't care what happened to him.

Harry wasn't surprised when Malfoy didn't show up for dinner that night or for breakfast the next morning, but when he still hadn't shown up for a meal by dinner on Sunday, he began to get concerned. No, not concerned, he corrected himself. Curious. Was the Slytherin hiding in his dormitory taking his meals from Dobby or was he still in the hospital wing? He couldn't bring himself to ask one of the teachers, and asking a Slytherin was out of the question.

After dinner, Harry tried to study with Ron and Hermione, but his mind kept wandering between the Slytherin dormitory and the hospital wing. Finally, he decided to find out. He waited until his friends were spending more time looking at each other than studying and told them he was going to take a walk. As he expected, they only barely acknowledged his leaving the common room.

Madam Pomfrey looked up from administering a potion to a Gryffindor first year when Harry walked in. "What have you done to yourself this time?" she asked with a sigh.

"I'm fine," Harry answered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "I was wondering - I wanted to see ..." His eyes flickered over to the first year; he didn't want all of Gryffindor to know he was asking about Malfoy. "Is Malfoy okay?" he whispered, but the girl obviously heard, because her eyes became as round as biscuits.

"His skull has healed nicely, but I'm keeping him one more night to ensure he sleeps well." The Healer gave him a long look, and Harry shifted a little, wondering whether she knew he and Malfoy were enemies. Finally, she jerked her head toward the back of the ward and said, "Go on - he might enjoy having a visitor."

Harry groaned inwardly - he knew this had been a bad idea. He stood there stupidly for a moment before he started babbling idiotically. "Er ... I ... well ... no ... I didn't ..."

Madam Pomfrey set the potion vial down impatiently and stalked toward the screened-off corner. "Mr. Malfoy, you have a visitor," she said, peeking around the barrier.

"Bully for me," came the familiar voice from behind the screen.

Harry couldn't think of a way to escape easily, so he leaned toward the first year and whispered, "Please forget I was ever here," before hurrying after the healer.

Malfoy was propped into a sitting position with pillows on the bed, a Daily Prophet in his lap. His eyes looked tired, but they widened in surprise when he saw his visitor. He recovered quickly and spoke, which was fortunate since Harry had no idea what to say.

"What do you want? Come to gloat, did you?"

"No, I ..." Harry stammered. He looked at the floor, shrugged, and said, "I just wondered if you were okay."

Malfoy was silent for a moment, and Harry chanced a glance at him. He looked even more surprised than when Harry had first entered. But then he scowled and said, "So now you're the 'Boy-Who-Cared'?"

Harry hated his nickname, so Malfoy's mutilation of it riled his anger. "I knew this was a bad idea," he said as he turned to leave.

"No, you're the 'Boy-Who-Has-To-Be-The-Hero', aren't you?" Malfoy snarled at Harry's back. "Or what about the 'Boy-Who-Meddled'?"

Harry could feel the fury spreading from his stomach to his chest as he turned to face the Slytherin. "What are you on about, Malfoy?"

"It was you in the dungeon hallway the other night, wasn't it?" Malfoy accused, looking as angry as Harry felt.

Harry was shocked that the Slytherin had figured it out, but tried to school his features into a puzzled expression. Malfoy didn't need to think he owed Harry any more favours; Harry was getting tired of those discussions. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Let me refresh your memory. I was ... in need of my wand and ... couldn't get to it. Someone got my wand to me, but oddly enough, I couldn't see them. Let's see ..." Malfoy tapped his head with an exaggerated gesture, as if pondering a puzzle, "... who do I know that has an invisibility cloak and a constant wish to be the hero?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about," Harry repeated. "That Bludger must have hit you pretty hard."

"And Snape," Malfoy continued, ignoring him, "you were the one who told Snape, weren't you?"

"Oh yes," Harry said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. "Snape and I discussed it over tea - we have tea quite often, you know. Next week he's going to adopt me."

"It had to be you," Malfoy protested, looking at the ceiling as if pondering. "You're the only one outside Slytherin who ..."

"I haven't said a word to Snape about you," Harry interrupted, relieved to be speaking truthfully. He waited, but Malfoy remained silent, staring at the ceiling as if it had the answer to the puzzle, his expression a mixture of confusion and anger. After a moment, Harry said, "Well, I can see that you're okay, so if you're finished accusing me of good deeds, I'll be off." He exited without giving the Slytherin a chance to speak.

On the way back to Gryffindor Tower, he thought about how uncomfortable he felt that he couldn't tell his friends he was curious about Malfoy's health. But he knew they wouldn't understand. He didn't understand it himself, and he certainly didn't want to risk Ron's anger again.

As he gave the Fat Lady the password, he suddenly remembered the first year girl and had a moment of panic, imagining that the common room would be filled with angry Gryffindors demanding to know if he had taken leave of his senses. But Ron and Hermione still looked glad to see him, and Harry relaxed. It appeared that the girl had kept quiet, at least so far.

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The following evening the common room was full of odd noises and whimsical bubble shapes. Apparently the twins' Halloween prank had inspired a rash of orders to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. After an hour spent trying to write a nasty essay for Potions that was due right after breakfast the next morning, Harry gave up and went to the library for some peace and quiet.

It was easy to find a table alone since most of the Gryffindors were cavorting in the common room, and the prefects were having their weekly meeting. Harry grimaced as he reflected that Ron and Hermione wouldn't be back until curfew, if not later. They almost always disappeared together after prefect meetings, and he didn't care to think about what they were doing.

Harry was so focused on his essay that he didn't realize someone had approached the table until the voice startled him. He jumped and made a gurgling sound in his throat.

"Potter?" The voice sounded so uncertain that Harry didn't know who it was until he looked up into Draco Malfoy's face. The hesitancy in his expression disappeared quickly into a smirk, however, and the Slytherin continued, "Are you always this jumpy?"

"Only when evil gits stalk me in the library," Harry said, but his tone was missing the usual venom. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

The uncertainty returned to Malfoy's expression, but he met Harry's eyes and asked, "Can I look at your DADA notes from this morning? Pomfrey kept me too long, and I missed class."

Harry almost jumped again, but managed to restrain his surprise to a dumbfounded expression. "S-sure," he said with a shrug. "Why not?" He pulled his bag into his lap and rummaged through it until he found the parchment with his notes. He started to hand them to Malfoy, but pulled the parchment back and said, "Wait - you're not going to incinerate them, are you?"

The smirk returned to the Slytherin's face and he said, "Not until after I copy them." Harry realized his face must have registered a bit of fear, because Malfoy continued, "Come on, what are you risking? If I destroy them, you can always copy Granger's." He held out his hand, and Harry reluctantly gave him the parchment.

Malfoy looked around, shrugged, and sat down across from Harry. After digging in his bag for a moment, he pulled out a piece of blank parchment and two quills. Harry watched, fascinated, as the Slytherin positioned one quill atop his notes and murmured a spell. The quill stayed poised to write by itself while Malfoy charmed the other quill. Then he waved his wand over both quills with a second spell, and the quills began writing, one tracing each word of his notes, the other writing on the blank parchment. The Slytherin leaned back in his chair in a relaxing pose and watched the quills work.

"Useful charm," Harry commented, "but a photocopy machine is faster."

"What's that?"

"Muggle technology. Used to make copies. It sort of takes a photograph of the paper ... or document ... and prints it," Harry explained, still staring at the quills. "It wouldn't work here, though - it runs on electricity."

"A photograph, huh." Harry looked up at the Slytherin; he appeared to be pondering this. "Well, this might be slower, but it's better. A copy made the Muggle way would be in your handwriting, and I wouldn't be able to read it. I've charmed this quill to write in my handwriting. Your penmanship is horrible, Potter!"

"I can read it," Harry said sullenly.

"You can?" Malfoy asked, his face showing mock surprise. "Too bad - illegible notes would explain a lot - I thought I'd just discovered the reason you're such a dunce in class."

Harry started to get angry, especially since he was getting fairly good marks this year, but then had a thought. "You asked to borrow my notes," he pointed out. "I must not be too stupid."

"True," Malfoy conceded. "I guess you're not too bad in DADA. Anyway, you're just about the only person in the class who will speak to me, so who else would I ask?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but closed it before the words came out. He was beginning to realize Malfoy's insults were only a defence mechanism. If the Slytherin didn't respect his defence abilities, he wouldn't be participating in the DA.

When the quills stopped at the bottom of the parchment, Malfoy scooped them up and stuffed them in his bag, along with his copy of the notes. Then he stood up, said "Cheers" with a nod, and stalked out of the library. Harry watched him go, wondering what had just happened. Aside from a couple of weak insults, he and Malfoy had managed to have a civil conversation, and the Slytherin had actually thanked him. Odd.

Harry stuffed his Defence Against the Dark Arts notes back into his bag and put the incident out of his mind, forcing his thoughts back to Potions.