A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 16

"From the Edge"

I find the answers aren't so clear
Wish I could find a way to disappear
All these thoughts they make no sense
I find bliss in ignorance
Nothing seems to go away
Over and over again
Just like before

Everything you say to me
Takes me one step closer to the edge
And I'm about to break

"One Step Closer" by Linkin Park

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Harry sat across from Dumbledore in stunned silence. "I'm sorry, Harry," said the headmaster in a gentle tone.

Harry opened and closed his mouth several times, then finally managed to stammer, "B-but th-they were under th-the F-Fidelius Charm!"

"They were under a form of the Fidelius Charm, yes. They insisted on being allowed to interact with their Muggle neighbours and co-workers. They were only invisible to magical folk."

"Aunt P-Petunia? D-Dudley?"

"Remus is with your aunt now. She is being relocated, of course. There is some debate as to whether Dudley can safely remain at school."

Harry slumped back in his chair, his thoughts in a whirl. Uncle Vernon was dead. Murdered. He couldn't seem to wrap his mind around it. "Tell me what happened," he whispered.

"His secretary says he left his office at the usual time. About an hour later, his body was found in an alley near his office building with one gunshot wound to the head. His wallet was missing."

"Then it might have just been a random mugging," Harry said hopefully.

"No, Harry," Dumbledore said gently, shaking his head. "Voldemort is not above hiring Muggles if it serves his purposes."

"But you're not sure it was him, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I am."

Suddenly, Harry felt as if it was too much effort to keep his head up. "It's not fair," he murmured toward his shoes. "They had nothing to do with this."

"They chose to protect you, Harry. They knew the risks."

"No!" Harry's head snapped up and he glared at the Headmaster. A sudden rush of anger brought him to his feet. "NO! THEY COULDN'T HAVE POSSIBLY UNDERSTOOD THE RISKS! They were MUGGLES!"

"Petunia's sister was murdered by Voldemort. She understood what could happen."

"THEY HATED ME! THEY RESENTED HAVING TO KEEP ME!" Harry was starting to feel light headed and he forced himself to take deep breaths. "They never wanted anything to do with our world. IT'S NOT FAIR!" Harry's knees suddenly felt very unstable. He allowed his legs to collapse beneath him and fell back into his chair.

"I am sorry for your loss, Harry."

"Don't be," Harry said bitterly. "We hated each other."

"But you are sorry he's gone."

Harry looked into the headmaster's unreadable eyes for a moment before answering honestly. "No, I'm not."

"Yet you feel guilty about it."

"Yes," Harry granted, thinking hard. Why did he feel guilty? Why was he so angry? "It's like ... he was an innocent bystander," he finally said. "I mean, he wasn't a nice bloke or anything - in fact, he was a right bastard. But he didn't deserve to die just because he happened to marry into my family. It's just ... wrong."

"It's very wrong," Dumbledore agreed, "but it can in no way be perceived as your fault."

After a moment of hesitation, Harry nodded. Even though he disagreed with the Headmaster, he knew it would do no good to argue. "What was the point of it, though?" he asked. "Why kill someone I hate?"

"From Voldemort's point of view, your uncle's murder accomplishes two things. First, it upsets you greatly. He would not know of your enmity with your uncle and would assume you would be devastated. Secondly, since he knows we will no longer allow you to live with your aunt, it effectively destroys the protection from your mother's blood. My guess is that your aunt and cousin were meant to be killed as well."

To his surprise, Harry found himself feeling glad Aunt Petunia and Dudley were not physically harmed, though he wasn't sure if he genuinely cared about their well-being or if he was glad that their deaths weren't an additional weight on his conscience. "Will you let me know what happens with them?" he asked. As Dumbledore nodded and opened his mouth to speak, Harry suddenly thought of something else. "Will this be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow?"

"We will delay it as long as we can," Dumbledore assured him. "At the moment, the Muggle police are investigating the crime and the Ministry is refusing to get involved in what they see as a Muggle matter. It should be a few days before the Press realizes what has happened."

Harry was glad for that small boon; maybe he would be spared from talking about it until he was able to get his emotions under control.

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Harry told Ron and Hermione about his uncle's murder, but he left them with the impression that it was simply a Muggle robbery gone wrong. He didn't want them to know how far Voldemort was willing to go to hurt those he was close to. Ron had already had a taste of that during the summer, and Harry didn't want to worry either of them further.

Two days passed, and there was no mention of the murder in the Daily Prophet, much to Harry's relief. Ron and Hermione knew enough about his relationship with his uncle to avoid the topic, but Harry was afraid the anger constantly bubbling below the surface of his consciousness would be in danger of erupting if his classmates started bombarding him with questions and expressions of sympathy.

The effort of tightly controlling his anger made him feel like a caged hippogriff. Time spent alone with Luna forced him to contemplate his feelings and motivations toward her, which only frustrated him further. He was relieved when Thursday evening's Quidditch practice arrived with its promise of a physical release for his aggravation, but the hope died quickly as he continued to fly badly throughout the entire training session.

As they landed at the end of practice, Harry noticed a familiar figure waiting on the pitch, but Ron reached him first. "Get out! This is a closed practice!" The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team advanced upon the Slytherin Seeker, who stood his ground.

"According to the schedule, you're already five minutes over," drawled Malfoy. "I'm standing on an unscheduled pitch - anyone has the right to be here." The Slytherin clamped his mouth shut as if he was restraining himself from saying more.

"Go on, Ron, I'll take care of this," Harry said in a tone that implied he was going to clean up something very nasty. He was frustrated from the unfruitful practice, and Malfoy was the last person he wanted to see. Ron gave Harry a blatantly doubtful look. "Go on," Harry repeated. "He's not going to hex me or anything," he turned to Malfoy and spoke pointedly, "are you?"

"I'm not making any promises," the Slytherin returned with a smirk.

Harry watched as Ron looked back and forth between them for a moment in a calculating way, taking in the annoyance on Harry's face and the smirk on Malfoy's. He knew Ron was still having trouble accepting that Harry and Malfoy were no longer enemies; his hatred for the Slytherin had not abated in the least. The rest of the team seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to see what Ron would decide.

Finally, Harry caught Ron's eye and jerked his head toward the castle, telling him nonverbally to go on. Ron gave him a look that clearly said, "Are you sure?" and Harry returned with a look that said, "Give me some credit." Ron shrugged and stalked off the pitch with the team following in his wake.

As soon as the team was out of earshot, Harry said, "Okay, Malfoy, what are you doing out here?"

"You're not up to your usual standard," Malfoy said, ignoring the question. "What's your problem tonight?" The concern in his tone was too forced to be sincere, and his smirk conveyed his amusement.

Harry couldn't keep the blush from his face; he knew he'd been flying poorly. "I've been distracted," he muttered in a bitter voice. "Besides, there's not really a good way for a Seeker to train."

"Except to scrimmage against another Seeker," Malfoy said, matching Harry's tone, but giving him a look that was clearly an invitation.

Harry's mood began to improve immediately, but he continued speaking in the same tone of voice. "Not much of a challenge - you've never beat me."

"I will tonight," Malfoy said with confidence, "if what I saw earlier is any indication."

"Taking advantage are you?"

"Always."

Malfoy beat him to the Snitch three times before Harry gave up, thoroughly disgusted with himself. He thought he would be motivated by the competition, but the anger that seemed permanently lodged in his stomach had somehow drained him of all enthusiasm, even for Quidditch. He also wasn't sleeping well, and the combination made him fly sluggishly and slowed his reaction time.

"Are you going to tell me what your problem is?" Malfoy demanded. "You flew better than that your first time on a broom!"

"It's none of your business," Harry snapped before he realized the Slytherin's expression was sincere. A mask of indifference fell over Malfoy's face as soon as Harry spoke, and the Slytherin started walking toward the castle without another word.

Harry watched him go, wondering if it was possible that he had hurt Malfoy's feelings. Harry's anger was coming from several different sources, but the strongest at the moment was his uncle's death. He knew it was only a matter of time before the story would appear in the Daily Prophet, so it seemed that this might be one of the few times he could safely disclose something to the Slytherin.

"Wait, Malfoy!" Harry yelled, running to catch up. Malfoy didn't slow his pace until Harry reached him and spoke. "My uncle was murdered two days ago."

The Slytherin stopped and turned slowly toward Harry with an unreadable expression. "Well, even though he was only a Muggle, I guess they're the only family you've ever known, so I suppose I should say I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be sorry," Harry said bitterly, ignoring the Slytherin's distain toward Muggles. "There was no love lost between us."

Malfoy eyes widened, giving him a slightly stunned expression. "That seems rather ungrateful - even for you."

Harry gazed at Malfoy for a moment, trying to decide what to tell him. He had never seen the Slytherin so unguarded, and that thought made up his mind. "You said he was my family. Well, he certainly didn't treat me like family. I was starved, told I was a freak, and made to do all the chores." Harry said all this with a dispassionate voice; he didn't want sympathy from Malfoy, he just wanted to explain his attitude.

Many emotions crossed Malfoy's face before he finally settled on disbelief. "You're making that up. You were famous - every kid in our world knew your name."

"I knew nothing about magic until I got my Hogwarts letter."

"But you must have done accidental magic when you were younger - all kids do it."

"I did," Harry agreed, "but I was punished for it. I didn't realize it was actually me doing it. It never occurred to me that magic might be real."

Malfoy opened and closed his mouth several times, apparently at a loss for words. Harry felt a pang of sympathy knowing how difficult it must be for the Slytherin to be asked to change his most basic perception of his long-time nemesis. "Look," Harry said, "you commented on my clothes that night in the kitchens. I only get my cousin's hand-me-downs. The first clothes I ever had of my own were the robes you saw me buying the day we met in Madam Malkin's."

At the mention of that meeting, Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise. "You remember that?"

"Of course. You were the first wizard my age I had ever met."

"Why weren't you more friendly? I thought you were a snob."

Harry couldn't help a smile at the irony, remembering his similar impressions of Malfoy. "I had just that morning found out that magic was real. I didn't want you to know how ignorant I was of the wizarding world - I was embarrassed." Harry couldn't help wondering if years of hatred and petty rivalry would have been avoided if that first meeting had been slightly different. As he watched the play of emotions on Malfoy's face, he wondered if the Slytherin was thinking the same thing.

Malfoy shrugged and resumed walking, apparently at a loss for what to say for the second time that night. Harry fell into step beside him, and they finished the trek to the castle in companionable silence. When they reached the entrance hall, Malfoy said, "Potter," with a nod and disappeared down the stairs. Harry hurried up to his own common room.

"I was about to send out an army to rescue you," said Ron as Harry climbed through the portrait hole. "Where've you been?"

"Seeker scrimmaging with Malfoy," Harry said in a quiet voice, unwilling for the whole common room to overhear.

"And he never hexed you?" Ron asked with a look of disbelief.

"Ron!" Hermione said sharply. Harry turned to her and realized she was studying his face. "Harry, you don't trust Malfoy, do you?" she asked.

"Of course not!" Harry said quickly, rolling his eyes. He was getting a little tired of the close scrutiny of his association with the Slytherin. "I'm not stupid. We were just flying, for heaven's sake." Hermione and Ron both gave him similar doubtful looks. "Could everybody please just get over it? It's really nobody's business who I fly with and who I partner in Potions!" Harry knew his anger was an overreaction to his friends' concern, but he suddenly felt unable to stay in the common room any longer, and he turned and ran up the stairs to the dormitory.

As soon as Harry had thrown his Firebolt in the corner and flung himself on his bed, Ron entered the room and cast locking and silencing charms on the door. Harry refused to look at his friend, and steeled himself against the verbal assault he knew was coming.

Ron sat on the edge of Harry's bed and surprised Harry by speaking in a quiet voice. "I'm not going to apologize for being suspicious of Malfoy. He's been horrible to us for years, and this change of heart seems rather sudden for both of you. He's the son of a Death Eater. I know it's not fair to judge him by his father, but we're at war and you and Lucius Malfoy are on opposite sides."

"Draco Malfoy is no Death Eater," Harry said in a stubborn voice.

"Look, Harry, what would you think if I suddenly started hanging around with Theodore Nott?" Harry looked at his friend's earnest expression and nodded slightly to concede the point. Ron met Harry's eyes and continued, "If Malfoy is sincere, I'm all for him joining our side or whatever. But you can't blame me for being suspicious. I'm just looking out for you, mate." Harry's anger began to dissipate slightly in response to his friend's concern.

"But this isn't all about Malfoy, is it?" Ron continued, giving him a surprisingly perceptive look. "You've been wound tighter than a spring for the last couple of days." Ron paused, eyes boring into Harry's, presumably waiting for Harry to explain. When the silence began to get uncomfortable he said, "Since your uncle died," in a leading fashion and paused again.

"Well, how do you expect me to act?" Harry said a little more sharply than he intended.

"I've been thinking about it," he said slowly, eyes glued to Harry's. "You've been very angry and jumpy since he died - more so than usual. You hated him, so I don't think you're really upset that he died. I think it has something to do with the way he died." Ron took a deep breath. "It was Voldemort, wasn't it?"

Harry stared at the canopy above him for a moment before answering, not even noticing his friend's use of the dreaded name. "I didn't lie to you," he finally said. "A Muggle actually pulled the trigger, but it was on Voldemort's orders."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know," Harry answered, wondering how to explain. "It just makes me really mad - he was killed just because Voldemort thought he was close to me. Dumbledore thinks he meant to kill my aunt and cousin, too. And he went after your family last summer. He's after me, and he'll do anything to get to me, including killing people close to me." He paused here, realizing that he was only telling Ron things he already knew. "I guess I just didn't want to worry you. I probably should have warned you - anyone close to me is in a lot of danger."

Ron looked at a spot behind Harry's head for a few minutes, apparently processing this information. Harry tensed again, certain that Ron was going to yell at him this time.

When Ron turned his eyes back to Harry's, there was a little bit of hurt in them. "Are you afraid Hermione and I won't want to be your friends any more if there's too much danger?"

"Of course n-" Harry began, but as he looked into Ron's eyes he realized he wasn't being completely honest. "Mostly I think I want to protect you, I guess. Part of me wants to push you away so you won't be in as much danger, but I like having you around. And part of me doesn't want you to know how much danger you're in so you won't worry, but you need to know ... things."

"I'm not even going to comment on what an idiot you are, because I think there's more you're not telling us, isn't there?"

"What makes you say that?" Harry asked, avoiding Ron's eyes.

"Why is Voldemort after you? I mean, no offence, mate, but you're just a kid, and he's one of the most powerful wizards ever. I could understand that he wanted revenge or something for what happened to him when you were a baby, but this is getting ridiculous, even for a lunatic. And what's even weirder - Dumbledore is taking the threat seriously. He's got you in Occlumency and private defence lessons. There's something else going on here, and Hermione and I think it has something to do with that prophecy that had both your names on it in the Department of Mysteries."

Harry sighed. He was annoyed that his best friends had been speculating about his situation, but decided that small betrayal paled in comparison to the huge secret he'd been hiding from them.

"I know what the prophecy says," Harry confessed. "Dumbledore told me that night. Voldemort only heard part of it - he was trying to steal it so he could hear it all." He hesitated, not really wanting to go on. Ron leaned forward slightly and opened his eyes wider, prodding him silently. "The prophecy says that I'm the one with the power to defeat Voldemort. It says that I have to either kill him or be killed by him."

Harry expected Ron to gasp and stammer in shock, or at least look surprised, but his friend only frowned and nodded. "We figured it must be something like that - that it would all come down to you in the end." He narrowed his eyes as if thinking hard. "Why is Dumbledore sure it's you? There was a question mark by your name."

"The prophecy specified my birth date, my parents, and that Voldemort would mark me."

"That's pretty specific," Ron agreed.

"You're taking this very calmly," Harry observed.

"Well, it's not a big shock after all that's happened over the years." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Who else knows about this?"

"Only a few members of the Order. Remus, Professor Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, Snape, Moody..." He stopped and coloured slightly. "... your parents and Bill."

"You told my parents and Bill and didn't tell me?" Ron looked hurt, and Harry felt the need to explain quickly.

"Actually, you're the first person I've told - Dumbledore told the others. I'm sorry, Ron - I just couldn't tell anyone. I guess saying it out loud makes it more real, somehow."

Ron's expression softened, and he nodded. "Can I tell Hermione - or do you want to?"

"Go ahead - I'd rather not tell it again," said Harry. "Just make sure you're not overheard." His mouth curled up into a smirk. "I guess that won't be a problem, will it?"

"No - we've got a bit of experience in finding places to be alone," Ron said without even a hint of embarrassment. His expression turned serious, eyes narrowing in determination, and he said, "Now all we've got to do is figure out how you're going to kill him, and what we can do to help."

Harry hoped his smile conveyed the appreciation he felt for Ron's support. Before he could speak, a pounding at the door caused them both to jump. "Oi! Let us in!" called Dean's voice.

"The silencing charm only works one way," Ron explained. "Dead useful in letting Hermione and I know if someone's coming."

"That was more than I needed to know," said Harry with a grimace as Ron released the spells.

Later, as Harry lay in bed, he reflected on the events of the evening. He had wondered if he and Malfoy could have avoided years of animosity if that meeting in Madam Malkin's had gone differently, but now realized that if it had, he might not have met Ron on the Hogwarts Express. He smiled slightly, thinking that despite everything, he wouldn't change that for the world.

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Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed, surprised that he had slept peacefully all night. He couldn't remember the last time he had had a full night of sleep. Perhaps talking about his problems was more therapeutic than trying to escape them.

His conversation with Ron had proved to be much more fulfilling than snogging his girlfriend. Harry had begun to realize that though he liked Luna, his feelings were not strong enough to sustain a relationship, and he wondered if he had only been using her physical attraction has a means of escape all along. That thought made him very uncomfortable; Luna was a nice girl and she didn't deserve that.

By the time he finished breakfast, he knew what he had to do, but he had to work up the nerve. His quiet, preoccupied moods were such a regular occurrence that his friends didn't question him, but he was warmed when Ron gave him a look of understanding instead of the worried, questioning expression his face usually held.

Harry spent the day going to his classes and meals in a daze, trying to convince himself that he should break it off with Luna that night, and steeling himself against her reaction. By the time he entered Snape's office for Occlumency, his anxiety had been replaced by determination, and he was able to clear his mind and focus on his lesson.

The nervousness returned as he was heading to their usual meeting place on the fifth floor after Occlumency, but he shoved it down, forcing himself to mentally recount all the reasons he was doing the right thing. However, Luna took one look at him and said, "You're different tonight," causing every word of his planned speech to flee his mind.

"I-I c-can't ... W-we can't ... This isn't ..." he stammered, gesturing between the two of them.

Luna nodded serenely as if he had just given an eloquent speech. "You're ready to break it off," she said in an expressionless voice. "You've felt it too."

"I-I ... felt what?" Harry asked, nonplussed.

"The vulmak's mating season is almost over. The power of the pheromones is almost gone now." She cocked her head to one side and regarded him in an uncharacteristically calculating manner. "You don't need me any more."

"R-right ... well ... er ..."

"I'm glad it was you, Harry, and not some other boy. Most boys would have taken advantage of my vulnerability." Harry continued to stare at her, opening and closing his mouth in disbelief. He had been taking advantage of her, but she thought he was being noble! He felt he had to explain, but for some reason only nonsense would come out of his mouth.

"I-I'm not ... er ... I w-wasn't ... er ..."

"Thanks, Harry," Luna said. She kissed him on the cheek and breezed out of the room, leaving Harry to wonder what had just happened, and how it was possible to feel horrible and relieved at the same time.

He shook his head to gather his scattered wits and remembered there was a second part of his plan he needed to put into action. He hurried eagerly through the castle, knocked on a certain door, and entered when bidden.

"Hi, Harry," said the surprised voice. "Anything wrong?"

"I-I j-just wanted to ... talk," Harry said, feeling unreasonably nervous. "Do you have some time?"

"I always have time for you," Remus said with a huge grin. He was obviously very pleased, and Harry's trepidation evaporated.

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