A Cord of Three Strands

A Cord of Three Strands

By Cindale

Chapter 24

"In Essence Divided"

Though one may be overpowered,
two can defend themselves.
A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.

Ecclesiastes 4:12

Harry awoke slowly, as if he had to make his way down a long, dim tunnel before he could open his eyes. He blinked twice, which seemed to take several minutes, and eventually realized his surroundings were unfamiliar. He should be staring at the canopy of his bed in Gryffindor Tower; instead he was looking at a vaguely familiar ceiling. Something in the deep recesses of this mind associated the ceiling with being injured, but he didn't feel any pain.

What was he doing in the hospital wing?

Madam Pomfrey's face moved into his line of vision briefly and then disappeared. He wanted to ask her what he was doing there, but his throat was too dry. He turned his head from side to side and then moved his arms and legs experimentally. Everything seemed to be working properly. Why was he here?

Just as he was pushing himself into a sitting position, Remus burst into the hospital wing with an anxious expression, followed more slowly by Dumbledore, who was leaning heavily on his walking stick. "How do you feel?" Remus asked without preamble.

"Fine," Harry managed around his dry throat. Remus handed him a glass of water, which he accepted gratefully, but he wondered at Remus's scrutiny while he drank. "What am I doing here?" he asked once his mouth was moistened.

Remus shot a worried look at Dumbledore and said, "You don't remember?"

Harry tried to remember, but he felt as if his memories were behind a cloud. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head.

Dumbledore reached the bed and lowered himself awkwardly into a chair. "Do you remember who you are?" he asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Of course," he said. "I'm Harry James Potter, seventh year Gryffindor. Have I had amnesia or something?"

Harry watched with bemusement as Remus and Dumbledore both relaxed their postures in apparent relief. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Do you remember about Voldemort?" Remus asked.

"Yeah," said Harry bitterly. "I wish I didn't. I have to kill him, but I've got his soul ... Oh!" Harry broke off as the memories of Friday evening suddenly came flooding back: his friends gathered at the foot of his bed, Professor Flitwick performing the charm, Snape giving him the potion, the pain that had surpassed the Cruciatus Curse. "It hurt," he whispered.

"Yes, we could see that," said Remus, his voice trembling a bit.

Harry suddenly felt completely humiliated that so many people had been watching him go through that agony. "Oh sweet Merlin," he said, covering his eyes with one hand.

"Are you in pain, Harry?" Dumbledore asked with apparent concern.

"No ... just ... next time we do that, can it be private?"

Remus laughed, and Harry looked up at him in surprise and annoyance. "Sorry, Harry - it's just - that's so like you!"

"You expected me to act different?"

"We didn't know," Remus said with a shrug.

Harry was pleased to see a slight twinkle return to Dumbledore's eyes. "I believe, Harry, that you may go to class if you feel up to it. I think that your Maglican flu has been cured."

"What day is it?" Harry asked, suddenly realizing he had no idea how long he had been unconscious.

"It's Monday," said Remus, "so you haven't missed any classes. If you hurry you can make it to breakfast in the Great Hall."

"We will allow you some privacy to change clothes," said Dumbledore, struggling to rise from his chair. Remus helped him to his feet and then turned back to Harry.

"Be sure to let one of us know if you begin to have symptoms," said Remus.

"Symptoms?"

Remus shrugged. "We're not really sure what to expect. Just let us know if you start feeling odd, okay?"

Harry nodded and watched as Remus and Dumbledore left the hospital wing, Remus walking unnaturally slow to keep pace with Dumbledore. He pulled a screen around his bed, changed quickly out of his pyjamas, and then hurried up to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve his book bag.

His mind wandered idly over the unusual conversation that morning. Would he begin to feel strange? Should he expect to act oddly? Other than a vague apprehension about his treatment, Harry felt perfectly normal. He was to continue treatments once a week until the two souls in his body were completely separated. He wondered, however, how they would know that their goal had been accomplished. Would he have to endure the painful treatments for months, possibly years?

When he reached the Great Hall, he felt a surge of joy as Ginny, Ron, and Hermione looked up from the Gryffindor table, their faces showing identical expressions of relief. He glanced toward the Slytherin table and saw the same emotion in Malfoy's eyes, though he was obviously trying to disguise it.

Harry slid into the seat next to Ginny, who promptly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "How are you?" she said, taking his hand and squeezing it.

"Are you over your magical flu, mate?" asked Ron.

"Maglican flu, Ron," said Hermione in an exasperated tone.

"I feel fine," said Harry, smiling at them all in a way that he hoped was reassuring. "In fact," he continued, "I actually feel wonderful."

It was true. The joy he had felt when he had first seen his friends hadn't abated, and he felt as if he was floating on a cloud of euphoria. He found his appetite was ravenous, he couldn't stop grinning, and he had the crazy desire to hug all three of them, even Ron. He managed to refrain from embracing Ron and Hermione, but only because it would have been awkward to stand and reach across the table for them.

His rapturous mood lasted the rest of the day. The threat of Voldemort was never far from his mind, but it suddenly seemed much less ominous than it had the week before. He was cheerful and eager to answer questions in all of his classes that day, and generally felt glad to be alive.

Harry ploughed eagerly through his homework that night, earning a nod of approval from Hermione and raised eyebrows from Ginny and Ron. He was actually disappointed at bedtime and lay awake for hours. When he finally managed to sleep he had dreams of soaring through the air on a magic carpet.

He greeted all enthusiastically the next morning, even Zabini, who they happened to meet as they were entering the Great Hall for breakfast. "It's a beautiful day!" he said with bliss as he sat at the Gryffindor table and looked up at the blue sky and puffy clouds. The euphoria was so pleasant that he never thought to question why he was acting as if someone had put him under a Cheering Charm.

Then he went to Potions.

It was difficult for Harry to keep quiet and focus on his potion; it seemed imperative that he ask Malfoy if his magic carpet dream was similar to the reality of riding one.

"I can understand why you continue to sit with my best student since your potion-making skills remain substandard," said Snape, looming behind them, "but I must insist that you complete this potion independently. Take your things and move to an empty table."

"But we weren't talking about the potion!" Harry insisted without thinking.

Snape's eyes glittered with glee. "That, of course, is entirely inappropriate. Twenty points from Gryffindor for discussing something other than potions in my class."

To his horror and complete bewilderment, Harry felt tears well up in his eyes. "I thought I was in trouble for talking about the potion," he protested with a sniff. Why did he suddenly feel as if he was developing a head cold? "Would you make up your mind?" he demanded, knowing he was going too far, but somehow unable to stop his mouth from running. He heard a quiet groan from Malfoy and he dared not look at Ron and Hermione.

"Forty points from Gryffindor for your disrespect," said Snape with a delighted smile, "and detention tomorrow night at seven."

"But that's the D.A.!" said Harry around a lump in his throat. He had to sniff almost desperately to keep his nose from running and he tried to swipe at his left eye without being noticed. He must be allergic to one of the potions ingredients.

"Another forty points, which makes it an even hundred," said Snape, his tone becoming dangerous. "The detention stands. Now move and stop wasting my time!" Snape turned and swooped back to his desk.

"Here," whispered Malfoy, giving Harry a handkerchief. Harry flushed with embarrassment, but took the cloth with him as he moved to an unoccupied table.

Harry's potion was an utter failure because all he could think about was how horrible he was at potion-making and how he would never make it into the Auror program. If he couldn't succeed at Potions, why even bother to try to pass Charms and Transfigurations? He might pass Defence Against the Dark Arts, but he didn't see the point if he couldn't continue the Defence Association. And who would lead the D.A. in his absence? Should he cancel the meeting altogether?

Snape took another ten points from Gryffindor because his potion was orange instead of pink, but Harry hardly noticed. He slumped out of class, utterly defeated, and ignoring Ron and Hermione calling behind him, slipped into the nearest boys' bathroom and locked himself in a stall. He had no desire to talk to his friends, but when Ron didn't follow him into the bathroom he spent the entire lunch hour convincing himself that he had completely alienated all of them. Who would want to be friends with someone who was going to be killed by Voldemort, anyway? Even if Voldemort didn't manage to kill him, he would be an utter failure as a person, unable to get a job anywhere in the wizarding world.

"POTTER!" The shout pulled him reluctantly out of his morose musings. "I know you're in here!" shouted Malfoy. "Get your sorry arse out of that stall!"

Harry didn't move. Malfoy was yelling at him. Malfoy hated him. He thought he had finally befriended the Slytherin, but now he hated him. He couldn't blame him, really.

The lock on the bathroom stall clicked open and the door swung aside to reveal Malfoy's angry face. "What's your problem, Potter?" His eyes softened a bit. "You look like hell."

Harry huddled against the wall as if the harsh words were physically wounding him. Malfoy bit his lip, looking oddly unsure of himself.

"Look," said Malfoy, taking a few steps into the stall and letting the door close behind him, "Snape was out of line goading you like that. He, more than anyone, should know what's going on with you."

"That's why he did it," said Harry, his voice scratchy from crying.

Malfoy regarded him curiously. "What did you do to make him hate you so much?"

"It was my father, actually. Long story."

Malfoy nodded, and then said, "Well, it was stupid of him to make it so obvious something's off with you, and I told him so. We don't need the whole school talking about this."

"Nothing's 'off' with me," Harry said grumpily. "I'm fine."

"Yeah - you lock yourself in the bathroom all the time, Potter." Malfoy crossed his arms and hardened his expression. "Now get up and come on."

"No," said Harry, turning his face to the wall.

"GET UP!" Malfoy shouted. "Snape took points from Slytherin because of you, and by Merlin you're going to get your sorry arse out of this stall and go to class!"

Harry turned to Malfoy in surprise. "Snape took points from you?" It began to sink into Harry's mind that Malfoy had stood up to his head of house in Harry's defence, and that made him feel a little better. He pulled himself to his feet and went to the sink to splash cold water on his face.

"How did you find me?" Harry asked, blubbering a bit around the water.

"Weasley and Granger," said Malfoy. "At first they said it was none of my business, that I should just leave you alone until you felt better, but I told them you didn't need to be coddled - you needed someone to knock some sense into you. Weasley seemed to think that was funny - I think he told me where you were because he thought you would hex me. He'd probably be here watching if Granger hadn't dragged him to class."

"I really should hex you," Harry said thoughtfully as he dried his face with a paper towel.

"No you shouldn't," said Malfoy. "I just did you a big favour."

Harry nodded, picturing Malfoy's conversation with Snape. "Thanks, Malfoy," he said, and before he thought about it, he was stepping toward Malfoy with his arms outstretched.

Malfoy backed away, his eyes widened in horror, until he was against the wall. He pulled his wand from his pocket with an almost desperate look on his face. "Stop! Don't you dare, Potter!"

Harry stopped and dropped his arms. "Sorry," he mumbled, blushing profusely.

"I know you're having a hard time, Potter," said Malfoy, drawing himself up to his full height, "but if you ever even think about hugging me again ..." He left the threat hanging ominously in the air.

***************************************

Harry managed to refrain from hugging Malfoy over the next couple of weeks, despite the treatments. Ron, however, did not fare so well, but at least the bursts of emotion that led to embraces took place in the privacy of their dormitory, where they caused minimal embarrassment.

The mood swings continued, gradually becoming more extreme and shorter lasting. Harry began to notice other students trying to avoid him in the corridors and sitting as far away from him as possible in class. Rumours started circulating that he was finally cracking under the strain of his fame, and Dumbledore suggested that Harry and his friends do little to dispel the gossip.

Harry tried not to think about Ginny's worried eyes, which haunted his dreams at night, and Ron's constantly simmering tension, caused by restraining himself from beating the rumourmongers to a pulp. Hermione almost drove him mad with kindness and affection, while Malfoy told him firmly to calm down and get over it, though his eyes betrayed his concern.

One day in October, Ron gazed across the Great Hall at lunch. "Will you look at that?" he said.

"What?" Harry and Ginny turned around in tandem to see what Ron was ogling. Harry had been only slightly depressed that morning, which was at least an emotion that didn't call attention to itself.

"Goyle is sitting with Malfoy and Zabini," said Ron.

Harry shrugged and turned around to face Ron. "Yeah - I suppose they're sort of mates again."

"They are?" Hermione gasped.

"Goyle told Malfoy that Crabbe had become a Death Eater, but Goyle doesn't want to."

"So Goyle's supporting Dumbledore?" asked Ginny, narrowing her eyes in apparent disbelief.

"No, I don't think so," said Harry, shaking his head. "Of course, Malfoy isn't openly supporting Dumbledore, either. Malfoy says if they avoid talking about the war they get along just fine."

"How does Malfoy know Goyle isn't spying for Voldemort?" asked Hermione.

"He might be," Harry said with a shrug. "Malfoy's being careful. I suppose Zabini could be, for that matter, but who else is Malfoy going to go around with?"

"I still think it's possible that Malfoy's spying for Voldemort, Harry," said Ron in a very quiet voice. "I really wish you didn't insist on trusting Malfoy with so much information. What if Voldemort knows all about this soul stuff and your treatments?"

"You know, I'm really getting sick of your attitude toward my friend, Ron," said Harry, brushing off Ginny's attempts to get him to quiet his tone.

"Ron has a point, Harry," said Hermione. "You don't have to trust him with everything, do you?"

"And you're an expert on who to trust, are you?" Harry felt a tiny prick of guilt when Hermione's eyes filled with tears, but he ignored it as Ron stood and put a supporting hand on her shoulder.

"That's not fair and you know it," said Ron.

Ginny leaned over and whispered in Harry's ear, "I had Professor Vector last year, and I would have trusted her, too. That wasn't Hermione's fault." Harry turned to glare at Ginny, but then his attention was diverted back to Ron.

"I know you're going through a rough time right now," said Ron, drawing himself up to his full height and gazing angrily at Harry, "and because of that I'm going to give you one chance to take that back."

Harry stood, shaking off Ginny's hand on his arm. "Why should I take back something that's true?"

Harry stood his ground defiantly as Ron walked around the end of the table to confront him. Ginny stood and stood on tiptoe to murmur, "Harry, stop it! You're not yourself right now!"

Harry whirled around to face Ginny and said, "Don't tell me what to do!" He gave her a shove that sent her toppling onto the bench.

Suddenly Harry was tackled from behind and knocked to the floor. With surprising quickness, Ron flipped him over onto his back and began hitting him in the face. Harry's anger disappeared with the first punch, replaced by despair so deep that he didn't even have the energy to hold his hands in front of his face, much less defend himself.

Seamus and Dean grabbed Ron from behind, forcing him to stop. Ron struggled to break free, but Malfoy shouted, "Stop it, Weasley! He's not fighting back!"

"He pushed my sister!" Ron spat.

"He didn't hurt me!" said Ginny's voice, though Harry couldn't see her. "Harry's been your best friend for six years, Ron!"

Malfoy stood in front of Ron with his back to Harry for a long moment. Harry could see Ron's furious expression as he glared at Malfoy and looked as though he wanted to say something. Eventually, Seamus and Dean relaxed their grip and Ron shook himself free. He shot one last venomous look at Harry and then silently accepted the lost points that McGonagall took from Gryffindor before stalking from the Great Hall. Hermione glanced sadly at Harry and then followed Ron.

"I'll take him to the hospital wing," Malfoy said to someone behind Harry's head as he crouched beside him. "You'd better go after your brother."

Malfoy helped Harry to his feet and led him from the Great Hall by the elbow. "Congratulations," Malfoy said quietly once they were away from the other students. "It appears that you managed to alienate your two best friends and your girlfriend in one fell swoop."

Harry shrugged off Malfoy's supporting hand. "Bugger off Malfoy!" he said, but then he swayed a bit and grabbed the Slytherin's arm.

"Stop it - you're going to get blood on my robes," Malfoy said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressing it into Harry's free hand; Harry pressed the cloth to his nose, wincing in pain. "Listen," continued Malfoy, "you're obviously having a bad reaction to the treatments. Have you talked to Dumbledore or Lupin about this?"

"I'm fine, Malfoy!"

The Slytherin gave a bitter laugh. "Sure - whatever."

Harry gave him a sideways glance and said, "And if you go to Snape about this I'll hex you into next week!"

"As if you could!" Malfoy retorted. "Besides, after that very public display I don't think Snape or anyone else will be wondering if something is wrong with you."

Harry cursed and put a hand over his reddening face.

They reached the hospital wing and Malfoy called, "Can we get some service here?" as he pushed Harry onto the nearest bed. Madam Pomfrey hurried over to them, and Malfoy gave Harry a concerned look as she bustled him away.

Harry endured the healer's fussing as she stemmed the blood flow from his nose and healed the bone. She left the bruises on his face, however, scolding, "That's what you get for fighting."

As she finished, the door opened slowly and Ron poked his head around with a nervous expression on his face. Madam Pomfrey stepped between them and put her hands on her hips. "You broke his nose!" she accused.

"It's all right," Harry said quickly. "It was my fault. Please let him in - I-I need to talk to him." He had no idea what he could possibly say to fix this, but the pain in his heart demanded that he try.

Madam Pomfrey looked doubtfully between the two of them for a moment and then sighed. "Mr. Potter, I want you to stay here for twenty more minutes to make sure the bleeding doesn't start again. I'll be in my office if you need me." She walked away, occasionally looking over her shoulder as if afraid Ron would attack Harry when her back was turned.

Ron approached the bed and then shifted from one foot to another, staring at the floor. Harry's mind raced, considering and rejecting things to say. An apology seemed so inadequate. Finally Ron broke the silence.

"Look, Harry," he said, "you know I lo- ... you know how I feel about you ... you know - like a brother and all, but you can't treat Hermione and Ginny like that, no matter what's going on inside your body."

"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, struggling in vain to keep the tears at bay.

"Yeah, I know you are, but still it happened, didn't it?"

Harry didn't know what to say to that, so he looked away and swiped angrily at his face.

"I don't want to say this, but Ginny is my sister and all ..." Ron took a deep breath. "If you ever raise a hand to her again..."

Harry nodded, hating himself for putting Ron in this position. "I understand," he managed to choke.

Ron stared into Harry's eyes a moment longer and then looked away, running his fingers through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Merlin, Harry - this is horrible! You've not been yourself - have you talked to Remus or Dumbledore about this?"

"I don't know what they could do short of keeping me sedated all the time," he said with a shrug. "Maybe I should be - that way I couldn't hurt anyone."

"No," said Ron, shaking his head. "We have no idea how long this will take." He met Harry's eyes again and said, "We'll make it through this, Harry."

Harry shrugged again and said, "Well, in the meantime, maybe I should stay away from Ginny and Hermione. I couldn't ..." He took a deep breath and started again. "I couldn't stand it if I hurt one of them."

Ron sighed heavily. "That might be a good idea - just until you get yourself sorted out." Ron looked past Harry to the window beyond. "Ginny loves you, you know," he said with reddening ears. "She's not going anywhere, mate. She'll stick by you through this." He swallowed. "And me and Hermione ... well ... we've been friends too long to abandon you now. We'll be there - even if we can't go around together all the time - we're still here for you, okay? No matter what happens."

Harry nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the emotion that filled his heart: guilt for what he had done, gratification for Ron's commitment to him, sadness that he needed to isolate himself for a time, and frustration and hatred at the Dark Lord who had caused all this.

************************************************

"No!" said Ginny firmly, defiance flashing in her eyes.

"You have to, Ginny. I couldn't stand it if I ..." Harry tried to swallow a lump in his throat and looked away from Ginny toward the lake, "... if I hurt you."

"I'm not afraid of you, Harry."

"Maybe you should be." Harry swiped angrily at a tear that escaped from his left eye.

Ginny folded one leg and turned her body to face him on the rock upon which they were perched. She turned his shoulders toward her, and then cupped his face in both her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. "Harry, you won't hurt me," she said with conviction.

A sob threatened to force its way out of Harry's throat and it felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing his heart. "How can I be sure?" he pleaded. It suddenly seemed as if he would no longer be able to breathe if he continued to look at her and he abruptly pushed himself to his feet.

"Don't run away from me Harry!" Ginny shouted, rising to her feet. "It's time for you to stop playing the martyr!"

Harry whirled to face her and yelled, "In case you haven't noticed, I AM the martyr! I'm bloody sick of being the martyr! When do I get to be normal? When do I get to have a girlfriend?"

"You're not sick of being the martyr!" Ginny countered. "You love it!"

"That's not true and you know it!" Harry took a step toward her, balling his fists at his sides.

"Harry Potter - the Boy Who Lived," Ginny said in a taunting voice. "He must always suffer for the Cause."

Harry closed the gap between them and leaned forward slightly to scream into her face. "Stop it! You know I hate that!" By now he was literally shaking with anger, his fingernails digging into his palms and his face the colour of poppies.

"Then prove it!" Ginny cried, holding her ground. "Quit thinking about how all of this affects you and think of me for a change!"

"I AM thinking about you!" Harry screamed. He raised his arm as if to strike. Ginny looked at him defiantly without flinching at all. Harry's hand froze in the air for a moment and then it dropped bonelessly to his side. He turned away from Ginny and bowed his head. "I AM thinking about you," he whispered.

Ginny walked around him until she was facing him. "You were going to hit me."

"I'm sorry," he murmured without meeting her eyes.

"Why didn't you?"

Harry sniffed and said, "I don't know."

"I know," said Ginny. "Harry, look at me!"

Harry obeyed slowly, reluctant to meet her accusatory eyes. He knew it was over between them, she would certainly never want to see him again after his behaviour, and he accordingly tried to brace himself against the heartbreak that was welling up inside him.

Ginny's eyes, however, were gentle and loving. "You didn't hit me because Harry Potter would never hurt me like that. Harry Potter is good and kind and gentle, and the part of you that is Harry Potter is winning."

"How do you know that?" he demanded. "I don't even know who I am any more! What if they get rid of the wrong soul and I end up with Tom Riddle's evil one? Or what if MY soul is the evil one?"

"That's ridiculous," said Ginny calmly, shaking her head. "You, more than anyone, know how evil Tom Riddle is. I believe all the good that is in you is yours alone."

Harry sighed and swiped impatiently at a tear. "I wish I could be sure of that, Ginny. I don't trust myself any more."

Ginny cupped his cheek with one hand. "I trust you, Harry. I love you, and I'm not leaving you, no matter what. You love me, and you won't hurt me."

Looking into her eyes, filled with sincerity, Harry could almost believe in himself. He slid his arms around her waist, pulled her close, and let himself hope for a moment that everything was going to turn out all right.

************************************************

"Was anyone hurt? Bill?" Harry asked, but only with mild alarm. He leaned forward slightly in his chair in Remus's sitting room. After Harry's very public fight with Ron in the Great Hall a fortnight earlier, Dumbledore had insisted that Snape brew Harry a modified calming draught to stabilize his emotions. Snape had argued vehemently that it would slow the process of the soul-separating treatments, but had been overruled. Harry now felt almost no emotion at all, which was sometimes more disturbing than the extreme emotions had been, but at least he wasn't a danger to the people around him.

"Bill's fine," said Remus, his eyes softening only slightly. "All of the human workers had gone home for the day. But several goblins were killed. With the Death Eaters' help, the goblins who had decided to support Voldemort easily defeated those who hadn't. Gringotts is totally under Voldemort's control now."

"I suppose it could have been a lot worse, then," said Harry, settling back into the comfortable chair.

"It's going to get a lot worse," said Remus with a heavy sigh. "This could bring the wizarding world to its knees. I'm sure only those loyal to Voldemort will be able to access their money. This could easily cause people to flock to Voldemort's side."

"People won't join Voldemort just over money, will they?" Harry asked with disdain.

Remus gave Harry a gently chastising look. "Harry, imagine you're a father with young children to feed."

Harry's stomach sickened at the thought of having to choose between his ideals and food for his family and he muttered a curse.

"Exactly," agreed Remus. "That's why we need to act quickly. Professor Dumbledore plans to go ahead and allow the attack on Hogwarts as soon as possible. He's hoping that we can retake Gringotts while the Death Eaters are distracted here."

"He won't die?"

Remus sighed. "He doesn't think so. Professor Snape is going to administer the Draught of the Living Death and he will be closely monitored by Madam Pomfrey as the wards are going down. He says he has complete confidence that Severus can brew a potion that will be potent enough to stop his heart and breathing, but gentle enough that it will be only temporary."

Harry raised his eyebrows; it sounded as if this would be very delicate. He pushed the worry for Dumbledore out of his mind and asked, "What about Voldemort? I can't face him until the souls have separated or I'll die, right?" It was odd to feel very little fear at the thought.

Remus shook his head. "You won't have to face him this time," he said. "Severus is certain he'll let his Death Eaters do all the dirty work and will only enter Hogwarts when triumph has been assured. We'll see that it's not - we'll be ready for them."

They were silent for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Harry hoped Remus was right about Voldemort; even if the souls had been successfully separated in his body, he still had to kill him, and he still had no idea how to accomplish that. On the other hand, the sooner Voldemort was killed, the sooner this would all be over.

************************************************

Harry was now having daily Occlumency training sessions with Snape. Dumbledore had accepted that because of their connection, Harry may never be able to keep Voldemort out of his mind when they were in close proximity, but the headmaster was determined that the Dark Lord would not be allowed to invade Harry's sleeping mind and uncover any of the Order's plans. Harry knew better than to expect to be excused for a holiday, so before the Halloween puddings had disappeared from the tables in the Great Hall, Harry slipped out of his place beside Ginny and hurried to the dungeons.

After only twenty minutes of practice, however, they were interrupted by Madam Pomfrey's head in the fireplace, summoning Snape to the hospital wing to tend to Professor Dumbledore. Snape told Harry in no uncertain terms to return to his dormitory, but Harry had no intention of obeying. He was surprised, however, to see Malfoy standing in the corridor when he stepped out of the Potions classroom. Harry acknowledged his friend with a nod before turning to follow Snape.

"Wait!" said Malfoy, grasping Harry's arm.

Harry looked at his arm for a moment in surprise, and then looked into Malfoy's uncharacteristically nervous face. "I'm going to see Dumbledore - he must be getting worse," Harry said, resisting the urge to shake the hand off his arm.

"I need you to do something for me. A favour."

Harry's eyes widened even further and he took a step back, causing Malfoy to drop his hand. "Can't it wait?" he said. "If Dumbledore's getting worse, that means the wards are going down, and we might be under attack. I need to get up there!"

Harry turned and only managed two steps before Malfoy said something that caused him to freeze: "Harry, please!" Harry spun to face Malfoy, stunned at the pleading tone and the use of his given name. "It can't wait," said Malfoy as he closed the gap between them. "I need the favour now."

"What is it?" asked Harry, extremely curious; he had never seen Malfoy quite so vulnerable.

"I need you to go with me to Hogsmeade," said Malfoy, clearly trying to act as if this was a normal, everyday request.

Harry blinked for a moment. "Are you insane?" he demanded. "I can't just leave! Why do you want me to go to Hogsmeade?"

Malfoy sighed heavily. "I assure you it is very urgent."

"Urgent?" said Harry, the volume and pitch of his voice increasing. "It's urgent for me to leave Hogwarts when it might be under attack?" Harry shook his head and almost smirked. "I don't think so. What's this about? Trying to get me away to keep me safe? You know better than that, Malfoy."

"Look," said Malfoy, running his fingers anxiously through his hair, "you're just going to have to trust me."

Harry stared at his friend, torn. How many times had he defended Malfoy to his other friends, insisting that he trusted him? But this just didn't make sense! Why wouldn't Malfoy tell him what was going on?

Harry started to shake his head, and Malfoy spoke again. "Harry," he said, "you said you trusted me. Was it just words?"

"Of course not!"

"Then prove it!" said Malfoy, straightening his back and looking at Harry with a challenge in his eyes. "I know you know how to get to Hogsmeade without being detected - I need you to take me."

"I can tell you how to get there - there's a tunnel ..."

"No," Malfoy interrupted, "I need you to go with me."

Harry hesitated, and then mentally berated himself for doing so. "Fine," he said, "but can we go check on Dumbledore first?"

"No time," said Malfoy without hesitation. Harry looked for a moment into Malfoy's determined expression but fought down his misgivings, reminding himself that Malfoy was one of the six people who loved him enough to die for him. Malfoy didn't deserve his suspicion; he deserved his trust. He sighed and led the way to the statue of the one-eyed witch on the third floor.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he watched the witch's hump open up and peered in to the inky black of the tunnel. "Close it on your way in," said Harry just before he dived through the hole. Once he reached the bottom of the stone slide, he lit his wand just in time to see Malfoy plough into him.

"Get out of the way," Malfoy complained as he and Harry untangled their limbs. "Merlin, it's dirty down here!"

"Sorry for the mess, Your Majesty," said Harry. "I forgot to have the maid service come today." He struggled to his feet and started toward Hogsmeade without another word.

"Where does this come out?" asked Malfoy as he caught up with Harry.

"Honeydukes," said Harry. "Where are we going?"

"Hog's Head," said Malfoy. Harry looked at him with raised eyebrows, but kept walking.

"And you're not telling me why we're going there," said Harry.

"No."

Harry nodded, biting back a retort and reminding himself that he trusted Malfoy.

"Am I supposed to call you 'Draco' now?" Harry asked in a tight voice.

"If you want to," said Draco in a casual tone. "I give you my permission."

"Cheers," said Harry with a roll of his eyes. "You didn't ask permission to call me Harry."

"So what?" said Draco. Harry glanced at him and saw that he looked genuinely confused. He shook his head and then put his finger to his lips as they reached the end of the tunnel.

They emerged quietly through the trapdoor into the Honeydukes basement. Harry silently thanked Merlin that the owners had apparently closed up and gone home for the night. Harry continued to lead the way as they crept up the stairs and slipped out a side door into an alleyway. At that point, Draco took the lead, which suited Harry just fine since the only way he knew to the Hog's Head was up the main street.

After only a few minutes of skulking through alleys, Draco stopped at an ancient brick wall with a wooden door that looked as though a slight push would cause it to crumble into dust. "I need your wand," Draco whispered.

"What? Why?" Harry said, managing, with difficulty, to whisper. His hand went automatically to his pocket as if to protect his wand.

"You're going to have to trust me, Harry," said Draco with an unreadable expression, holding out his hand.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco at the odd request and the use of his given name for the third time that evening. "I trust you ... Draco," he said, his friend's given name feeling odd in his mouth, "but my wand?" His hand closed tightly around it in his pocket.

Draco sighed. "Do you trust me or not?" Harry lowered his gaze to the ground for a moment, and then slowly pulled out his wand and held it out to Draco. A sad look crossed Draco's eyes for a brief instant as he pulled the wand out of Harry's grasp, but then his expression settled into something like determination. Harry stared at his wand as Draco pocketed it, and continued to stare at the pocket for a moment, feeling a strong sense of loss and vulnerability.

"Okay," Draco breathed, "come on." He pulled the door open and gestured for Harry to go first. Harry blinked for a moment to adjust his eyes to the semi-darkness, and then his scar exploded.

Harry leaned over slightly with his face in his hands and mentally forced the pain away, drawing on Voldemort's strong feelings of triumph and happiness to allow himself to be able to stand up straight and face his enemy.

He took a deep breath and looked briefly around the room. There were two Death Eaters, Narcissa Malfoy, and the Dark Lord himself. Harry and Draco were outnumbered two to one, but if Harry could only keep Voldemort distracted for a moment, maybe Draco could stun the others and escape.

But wait - why was Draco's mother there?

And why was Draco kneeling before Voldemort and offering him Harry's wand?

"He gave it to me willingly, My Master," Draco said in a sneering tone. "He trusted me."

"You have succeeded far beyond my expectations, Young Master Malfoy," said Voldemort in a tone Harry had never heard before; it sounded almost fatherly. "You may do as you wish with the wand - I have no need of it."

"Your kindness overwhelms me," said Draco in a hushed voice, looking up at Voldemort adoringly as he pocketed Harry's wand.

"Well done, Lucius," said Voldemort to the Death Eater standing nearest to him. "I had my doubts, but your son has certainly proven his worth to me today."

"Draco?" Harry choked, finally finding his voice. Draco stood and walked over to stand between his parents with a blank expression, completely ignoring Harry. "Draco?" Harry repeated, a bit louder.

Draco rolled his eyes and then his face settled into a sneer, his eyes completely devoid of emotion. He remained silent.

"How appropriate," said Voldemort in a sibilant voice, taking a few steps toward Harry. "Like father, like son. Each betrayed to his death by someone he believed to be a friend, and even on the same date. Happy anniversary, Harry Potter."