Adamant and Starlight

Chapter 2: Stargazer

The next week passed more slowly than any of Harry's life. He attended classes, he practiced Quidditch, he did his homework, and he ate on a semi-regular basis, but none of it pierced the fog of shock and misery that surrounded him. Hermione and Ron quickly gave up trying to talk to him, but they appointed themselves his guardians. One or both of them were always at his shoulder, making sure he got where he was supposed to be or deflecting the unwelcome attention of other students.

As always, the secret was out and all of Hogwarts knew that Malfoy had disappeared. Theories were thick upon the ground, the most popular being that he had grown tired of Potter's attentions and gone home to his Death Eater father. But far more lurid and unpleasant suggestions soon drove out the simple ones, and Hermione, who for all her hard-headed practicality had a fair bit of imagination and a soft heart, often had to cover her ears or duck down another hallway to avoid hearing conversations that made her positively queasy. Harry did not flinch or run away from the rumors. He ignored them, more concerned with the very real, very possible fears in his own head than with the wild fancies of children who had never touched true evil.

With the end of class on Friday afternoon, the Easter Holidays began and the dour stone castle was instantly filled with the sound of laughter and celebration. The Gryffindors hurried away from the dungeons and double Potions - always the nastiest part of the week - so relieved to be free of both Snape and his foul Slytherinsthat they were shouting with near hysteria by the time they reached the upper castle.

Harry trudged at the back of the group, flanked as always by his faithful shadows, too numbed by days of worry and exhaustion to care that Snape had given him zero marks for his revealing potion. Ron, who had also failed the lesson, looked as dejected as Harry, but Hermione was full of outrage at Snape's obvious persecution of her friend. She strode along at his side, eyes snapping and jaw set.

"That was our worst Potions lesson, yet!" she exclaimed, as they stepped out of the dark stairwell and into the entry hall. "Snape is being blatantly unfair!"

"So what else is new?" Ron grumbled.

"Harry's potion was much better than Malcolm Baddock's! His wasn't even the right color, and he obviously had not pickled his nightshade root properly. Anyone could see that. Harry's was just a little too thick is all..."

"Honestly, Hermione, haven't you figured out that Snape hates Harry? When has he ever not hated Harry? Why should today be any different than every single Potions class we've ever had?"

Hermione flushed. "Because Harry's upset, and Snape knows it."

"Right. So he goes for the jugular."

"The other teachers are being nicer to him, even the brainless ones like Trelawney. Why can't Snape give him a break?"

"Because he's Snape," Ron said, flatly.

"Because he blames me for Draco being gone," Harry interjected, in a dead, hollow voice, "and he hates me even more than ever. When Draco's here, he hates me for being close to him. When he's gone, he hates me for chasing him away."

"You didn't chase him..."

"Oh, give it a rest, Hermione!" Ron cried in frustration. "You keep expecting people like Snapeto be reasonable, to think the way you do, and it just isn't going to happen!"

Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, cutting off her retort, and her eyes grew suspiciously bright. "This is just horrible," she whispered to Ron, but loudly enough that Harry could not miss it. "Everything is ruined, and we can't do anything to fix it."

Harry shut his eyes for a moment, trying to blot out all awareness of his friends. They meant well. They wanted to help. But their constant dogging of his footsteps and muttered discussion of the disaster that was his life only rubbed salt in wounds that were already too painful to bear. He had to get away from them, get out, and soon. He had stayed obediently in the castle for five endless days, doing nothing, waiting for Dumbledore to bring him the news that Draco was dead. Well, enough was enough, and Harry did not intend to sit idly by while Voldemort - or Lucius Malfoy, or whoever was doing this to him - shot his life down in flames. Again.

He lengthened his stride and took the marble stairs two at a time. Ron and Hermione hurried to keep up with him, exchanging looks that said they had felt the change in his manner and knew something was in the wind, but Harry ignored them. His thoughts were fixed on the tower room, where his invisibility cloak and his broomstick waited for him. Tonight, when his faithful shadows were asleep, he would put on his cloak, take his trusty Firebolt, and go looking for Draco, as he should have done a week ago. And Dumbledore would just have to catch him, if he wanted to lock him up.

* * *

When the summons to Dumbledore's office came, Harry was sitting in the common room, staring into the fire. All around him, the Gryffindors were in high spirits, blowing off steam and making a great deal of noise before they settled down to a week of intensive studying, and when Professor McGonagall climbed through the portrait hole, it took a moment for anyone to notice. Hermione spotted her first and nudged Parvatiin the ribs with an elbow. Parvati gave a squeak of warning, and the room fell eerily quiet.

McGonagall glanced around to locate Harry, then she crossed the room under the eyes of the entire House. Harry did not look up until she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"The Headmaster wants to speak to you, Potter."

The blood drained from Harry's face, leaving him a sickly grey color. McGonagall gave his shoulder a squeeze and said, "Come along."

He rose numbly to his feet and followed her back out of the portrait hole. As the Fat Lady swung into place, he heard the common room explode behind him.

"Is it Draco?" Harry asked. "Have they found him?"

McGonagall shook her head, her eyes harder even than usual. "No."

Harry stumbled as he walked, his legs suddenly too weak to hold his weight, and McGonagall caught his arm to steady him. "I thought you were going to tell me he was..."

"Hush, Potter." To Harry's utter amazement, her arm went around his shoulders comfortingly. "We all know how hard this is for you, and we're all grateful that you're handling it so well."

"Well?!"Harry shrieked.

"You've followed the Headmaster's rules to the letter, and please believe me when I say that this has taken a huge burden off his shoulders. He's doing everything he can to find Malfoy, calling in favors, mobilizing the entire Order, setting his spies in the Ministry, absolutely everything. And the only thing that allows him to focus so much of his time and attention on Malfoy is his certainty that you are safe. I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are doing the very best thing you can for Mr. Malfoy."

Harry swallowed the bitterness in his mouth and rasped out, "How did you know that I was thinking of sneaking out of the castle tonight?"

McGonagall flashed him a sharp, measuring look. "I didn't know it, but I know you well enough to know that your patience is wearing thin. If it weren't tonight, it would be tomorrow or the day after." She halted and pulled him up short, the clasp on his shoulder now hard enough to hurt. "Make no mistake, Potter. The Headmaster means what he says. If you try to slip out of the castle, or even go for a midnightstroll under the invisibility cloak, he won't hesitate to put you under guard until we find Malfoy."

"If you find him."

"We'll find him, one way or another." Harry gave a choke of pain, and McGonagall started down the hallway again, her face grim. "Don't underestimate the Headmaster, and don't give up hope. But don't forget that this is war, either."

"How could I possibly forget?"

McGonagall's answering grunt might have been one of laughter, disgust or sympathy. Harry couldn't tell, and her face betrayed nothing. They did not speak again, until the door to Dumbledore's office swung open.

"In you go, Potter," she said.

Harry stepped into the room to find Dumbledore standing behind the desk, smiling at him. "Come in, Harry. Sit down."

Harry obeyed, trying not to look too nervous as he sat down in an ornate, wing-backed chair across the desk from the Headmaster. He had expected to find Dumbledore angry, ready to flay him with those piercing eyes of his and demand to know what fool notion had gotten into his head that he would consider leaving the castle. Instead, he found the old wizard looking rather worn and tired but perfectly affable. The blue eyes, which could freeze him with a glance, were twinkling behind their half-moon spectacles.

Dumbledore waited until Professor McGonagall had taken the other armchair, then he propped his elbows on the desk, laced his fingers together, and regarded Harry over the tops of his glasses. "Where were you planning to go, tonight?"

Harry opened his mouth, shut it without speaking, and swallowed uncomfortably.

"You must have had a destination in mind. Where would you look first?"

"Malfoy Manor," Harry answered immediately.

"He isn't there."

Harry looked flustered. "Are... are you sure?"

"Quite sure."

"It's a big place. There are cellars and tunnels under the house..."

"And catacombs that go back to pre-Christian times. I know. We have looked, Harry. I've had my eye on Malfoy Manor since the day Lucius Malfoy disapparated just outside the Hogwarts grounds, and I can state with absolute certainty that Draco is not inside the Manor. Where else would you look?"

Harry had not thought much beyond getting out of the castle, and he had not considered what he would do if he didn't find Draco at the Manor. Prompted by Dumbledore's question and the steady, expectant gaze fixed on him, he thought about it now.

"The homes of the other Death Eaters?"

"I have sent members of the Order to search the home of every known Death Eater and several suspected ones. The Aurorshave been working round the clock to locate and question anyone who might know of Draco's whereabouts. If they know, that knowledge is protected by spells strong enough to block our most skilled questioning."

"What does his mother say?"

The blue eyes gleamed at Harry. "We can't find her."

"And Lucius...?"

"Never resurfaced after the siege and his abrupt disappearance."

"Draco is with them."

"That seems most likely."

Suddenly, Harry began to tremble. He locked his hands together and crushed them between his knees, fighting to keep himself under control, but the surge of hope in him was so powerful it threatened to burst his chest open. In a shaking voice, he whispered, "Then maybe... maybe he's all right. I mean, if he's with his parents, maybe they took him somewhere to keep him safe."

Dumbledore did not answer him, and Harry stared at him, mouth going dry as hope turned to panic.

"You don't think he's safe, do you?"

The Headmaster sighed. "Ask yourself this, Harry. Would Lucius Malfoy leave his master's service and go into hiding to protect his son?" Harry shook his head. "Would Narcissa?"

"M-maybe. It's possible, isn't it?"

"Possible, yes, but not probable."

"She's his mother!" Harry cried.

"And LuciusMalfoy's wife. The truth is that we don't know enough about Narcissa to judge what she might or might not do for her son. She has always remained in the background, the quiet but staunch supporter of all her husband's choices. We do not believe she is a Death Eater, but she certainly knows that Lucius is and gives no sign of opposing him. Will she defy both Luciusand Voldemort for Draco? I simply don't know."

Harry felt hot, angry tears forcing their way through his lashes. He despised himself for crying, but he couldn't help it. Too many emotions had come at him in rapid succession, always ending in fear and despair. His chest ached as if the Blood Link werestill there, stretched to the breaking point, tearing out his heart, and he wished desperately that it was true. If he couldn't have Draco back here with him, safe and whole, then he didn't want his heart anymore. He didn't want to go on breathing and thinking and remembering and blaming himself for bringing death to yet another person he loved.

"Headmaster." It was McGonagall speaking for the first time. Both Dumbledore and Harry looked at her, and she nodded toward the wall behind Dumbledore's chair.

The Headmaster turned swiftly to the large fire that burned on the hearth at his back. "Ah! Right on time! Thank you for stopping by, Sirius."

"Sirius!" Harry jumped out of his chair, rounded the desk in two hasty steps and dropped to knees on the hearth. There, floating in the fire, was the disembodied head of Sirius Black.

He gave Harry a lopsided smile that warmed his dark, hollow eyes, and said, "Hallo, Harry."

"Sirius." The tears were still coming, and Harry had to swallow several times before he could speak properly. "I'm so glad to see you."

"Me, too, but you look awful."

"I haven't been sleeping too well."

"Or eating or changing your clothes regularly."

Harry grinned and sniffled. "No."

Sirius frowned. "Dumbledore should have contacted me sooner."

"But... is it safe? Using the floonetwork, I mean. Doesn't Voldemort have it watched?"

"Probably, but we aren't telling secrets. Don't worry, Harry. I won't do or say anything to risk your friend's life."

Harry sank back on his heels, his eyes pleading with the man hovering before him in the flames. "You're looking for Draco?"

"What else would I be doing?"

"And Professor Lupin?"

"Him, too. All of us."

"I'm scared, Sirius."

Black's gaunt, angular face softened,and his eyes were full of understanding. "I know."

"I wish you were here. I need to talk to you."

"I'll come when I can, but I'm needed here, coordinating the search. You have to be patient, Harry, and you have to trust us."

"I do trust you, but I can't just sit here and wait. I have to do something."

"You are doing something. You're keeping yourself alive and out of You-Know-Who's clutches. That's more important than anything, Harry. Or anyone."

"Not to me, it isn't."

"Then it's a good thing we're having this chat. Let's get this straight, once and for all. You, Harry Potter, are the single most powerful weapon we have in the fight against the Dark Lord. It sounds cold and brutal to say it that way, but it's the truth. Without you, we might as well all line up to get our Dark Marks."

"There are lots of people fighting him, lots of people who can..."

"You know better than that. We need you."

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "I need Draco." He let those words hang in the air between them for a long, agonizing moment, then he whispered, "Find him for me, Sirius. Please."

"I'll do my best, but you have to do something for me."

"What?"

"Get some sleep. Take a shower, change your clothes, have a decent meal, and stay in the castle. Agreed?"

Harry hesitated for a long moment, thennodded. Sirius tried to smile, but it came out crooked and Harry had to look away to keep from crying even harder.

"I'll see you when I can, Harry. I'm really sorry about all this, and I promise to come to Hogwarts just as soon as possible."

"Come when you find him."

"I will." Sirius' eyes shifted to Dumbledore. "Headmaster, there's definitely something happening among You-Know-Who's supporters. It seems they're planning a ritual of some kind for the Equinox. My sources are vague, to put it mildly, so we haven't found the location yet, but we'll keep looking."

"The Equinox is in three days. That doesn't leave you much time."

"I've put our sharpest eyes and ears on it. They'll let me know the minute they learn anything."

"Do what you can and keep me informed."

"Right. I'd best be off. Harry?"

"Yes?" Harry said.

"Remember our agreement."

"I will."

"And try not to worry. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Sirius disappeared with a pop, leaving only mundane, orange flames behind him. Harry stared at the place where his head had been, wondering how he was supposed to follow his godfather's final piece of advice, until Dumbledore roused him with a hand on his arm.

"Professor McGonagall will take you back to your common room now, Harry."

Harry obediently climbed to his feet, mumbled a goodnight to the Headmaster, and followed McGonagall out of the room. She didn't say anything, and Harry found her silence comforting. He couldn't talk about Sirius or Draco, and he didn't want to discuss his own behavior. Thankfully, McGonagall seemed to think he'd been chastised and guilt-tripped enough for one night. She walked him through the castle and up to the Fat Lady's portrait without uttering one word of reprimand.

Harry gave the password and stepped through the portrait hole, turning to bid Professor McGonagall goodnight. But to his surprise, she climbed through the hole after him. The rest of Gryffindor House was still madly partying in the common room, and the chaos seemed to have reached new heights in his absence, but the room fell quiet once again at his entrance.

Into that unnatural silence, Professor McGonagall said, "I'll need your invisibility cloak, Potter."

"What?"

"Your cloak. I'll need to keep it, for the time being."

"But..." Harry stared at her in blank disbelief, a hundred protests crowding into his brain but none of them making it all the way to his lips. "But, Professor..."

"It will be perfectly safe in my office."

"I'm not going to use it!"

"Then you won't miss it." She fixed Harry with her beady eyes and added, quietly, "It did not slip my notice that you never gave your word, either to Snuffles or to the Headmaster, thatyou would stay on the grounds."

"I will."

"Yes, and I will help you. Get the cloak."

Numbly, as if his mind didn't know precisely what his arms and legs were doing, Harry made his way up the stairs and into his dormitory. He found the cloak folded under his pillow, waiting for the next time he slipped out to meet Draco, and he held it up to his face for a moment, eyes closed, imprinting the smell and feel of it in his memory.

When he returned to the common room, it looked as though no one had moved. He walked over to McGonagall and held out the bundle of silvery fabric, his hands surprisingly steady. She took it with an apologetic look, tucked it under her robe and turned to leave.

"You'll have it back soon, Potter."

Then she was gone, and Harry stood in the middle of a crowded room, utterly alone.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione murmured.

Without daring to look at her, Harry turned and bolted up the stairs.

*** *** ***

Harry stood beside the lake, staring out across the sullen water to where distant spirals of smoke marked the location of Hogsmeade. It looked so innocent from here. No more than a scattering of rooftops and chimney pots barely visible above the trees. Not at all the sort of place in which people disappeared or Death Eaters lurked. But that picturesque little village had taken everything from him.

Tears burned in Harry's throat, and he threw his head back to gaze, unblinking, at the hurrying clouds while he willed himself not to cry. The sky was a curious combination of pristine blue and looming grey, and the sun gleamed fitfully from between the rain clouds as they ran before the wind. Harry watched clouds and sky intently, feigning a deep fascination with their changeable beauty, forcing his mind away from darker and more treacherous thoughts.

He could not cry. It solved nothing, and he had done entirely too much of it lately. He could not leave the castle grounds, even though McGonagall had left him his Firebolt, and no one could catch that broomstick even if they did see him go. He could not think of Draco - trapped, locked up in some foul place, hurt, frightened, dead, his winter eyes blank and his bright hair stained with blood - or he would disintegrate, right here on the shore of the lake. He could not picture Medieval paintings, warrior-angels with gold leaf haloes behind their heads, startled puffer fish blowing up into spiky balloons, diamond-bright adamant fingers reaching out to snatch a flaming pine cone from the air, the Quidditch pitch at dusk, the North Tower at midnight, his own bed with its red tapestry hangings, his own face looking back at him from a mirror in the bathroom full of reproach because it was not the face he needed so desperately to see.

So many places he could not go. So many thoughts forbidden to him, if he wanted to go on breathing and pretending to care. Clouds were safe. Clouds could not bring Draco to mind, unless Harry remembered that his eyes were sometimes that exact shade of grey when he was depressed or grumpy, about to say something really cutting... No. No clouds. But the sky was blue, not grey, and so huge, so empty that it couldn't possibly lure him into forbidden thoughts. He had to concentrate on the sky.

It was late afternoon, getting on toward tea time. In another few hours, the sun would set and the stars would come out. Harry longed to stand here under the stars, remembering, but he knew that McGonagall would never allow him to stay out after dark. She couldn't keep him penned up in the castle all day, especially during the holidays, when he had no classes or Quidditch to occupy his time, but she made sure he was back in the common room every evening. Harry's need for privacy and a respite from the stares - gloating or sympathetic - of his classmates did not sway McGonagall in her determination to keep him safe. And Harry could not find the words to explain to her why he so desperately wanted to stand outside, alone, under the stars. Some things were not meant to be shared.

Privacy was the purpose of his walk today. Hagrid had promised him tea and biscuits, and McGonagall had given her permission, so long as he stayed with Hagridand returned to the castle by supper time. Neither McGonagall nor Hagrid would know that he had taken the longest possible route to the hut by the forest or that he had stared so long at the rooftops of Hogsmeade, thinking of how much that little village had taken from him.

He was cold, and the wind blew damp against his face. Wrapping his cloak more tightly around him, Harry turned to plod up the long slope from the lake to the forest and Hagrid's hut. He had seen little of Hagrid this last term, and he had avoided him entirely in the two weeks since Draco had vanished. Harry honestly did not know how Hagrid felt about his attachment to the Slytherin. He'd never had the courage to come out and ask, so they had avoided the subject when together. But Harry suspected that they would not be able to avoid it today.

Smoke rose from the chimney invitingly, and the diamond-paned windows gleamed with warm light. Harry stood outside the door, trying to decide if he really wanted to cope with Hagrid'scooking or Hagrid's simple affection just now. He had not yet made up his mind to knock when the door burst open and Hagrid stood towering before him.

"There yeh are, Harry. I was startin' ter worry."

"Hallo, Hagrid."

"Get in outta that wind." The enormous groundskeeper stepped back from the door, allowing Harry enough room to squeeze past him into the hut, thenhe shut the door. "Let me jus' nip the kettle on terthe fire. Have a biscuit."

He shoved a plate the size of a dustbin lid toward Harry. It was covered with what appeared to be plate gaskets, so large, flat and hard were they.

"Umm, thanks. I'll wait for my tea."

Hagrid turned away from the hearth and pulled out a chair for himself. It groaned under him as he sat down, but it miraculously held his weight. Propping his elbows on the table, Hagrid regarded Harry from beneath his bristling eyebrows. Harry returned the look as long as he could, but soon his eyes were drifting to the tabletop, where he picked at a burn scar in the wood. A souvenir of Norbert, most likely.

"I won' ask yeh how yeh're doin'. It'splain ter see yeh're a right mess."

"I'm okay," Harry lied. He dug his thumbnail ferociously into the wood, letting the pain of splinters under his nail drive out the other pain for a brief moment.

Hagrid grunted at him. "Is that why yeh don' come tersee me anymore?"

"I'm sorry, Hagrid. I've been really busy, and..."

Hagrid cut him off with another skeptical grunt. He pushed himself out of the chair and began clanking and sloshing about with the tea things. Whatever Hagrid'sshortcomings as a cook, he brewed an excellent cup of tea, and Harry gave him a grateful smile when he plunked a huge cup down in front of him. Milk and sugar followed, the plate of iron-hard biscuits was nudged invitingly toward him, then Hagrid resumed his seat and ladled several heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his own cup.

"Yeh know, Harry," he commented, as he stirred his tea so energetically that it slopped across the tabletop, "if yeh keep hidin' yer boyfrien' from me, not bringin' him around with yeh, I migh' start ter think yeh're ashamed of him. Or of me."

Harry started so violently that he dropped his spoon. "What?"

"It has ter be one of us."

"Hagrid, you know I'm not... I mean... You don't really want me to bring Malfoy to tea, do you?"

The tremendous shoulders lifted in a shrug. "I wouldn' blame yeh, if yeh was ter think I'm not the best company for the likes of Malfoy. Me bein' half-giant, an' him bein' from the oldes' wizardin' stock."

"You know better than that, Hagrid!"

Black eyes rested on his face, full of feigned innocence. "Then it's Malfoy yeh'retryin' ter hide, is it?"

"No! No..." Harry dropped his head into his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. "You don't understand."

"Don' I? Tha'sno way ter love somebody, Harry." When Harry did not lift his head or speak, Hagrid went on in a gentle rumble, "My dad was a good man. He loved my mum somethin' awful, and when she left, he cried for weeks. She was a giantess, righ' enough, an' some called her a monster. Maybe she was, come ter think of it. Not much of a mum, anyway. But he loved her, an' when someone called her names or looked funny at her, my dad set them to rights. He taught me ter love her and not ter blame her for bein' what she was. 'It's not her fault, bein' a giantess,' he told me. 'It's her nature. Yeh can' change a body's nature, no matter how hard yeh try, an' if yeh love her, yeh don' try at all.' Tha'swhat my dad taught me."

Harry dropped his hands and stared blankly at the tabletop.

"Yeh picked a tough one, Harry. Nobody's gonna make this easy for yeh. But if yeh act like yer ashamed of Malfoy, people will jus' think it's all righ' ter treat him like he was dirt, an' they'll go on doin' it. Yehthink about that, an' about my dad. Yeh could learn somethin' from him, same as I did."

Harry gnawed his lip for a moment, turning over Hagrid's words, then he murmured, "I told Ron he had to stop treating Malfoy like a disease."

"An' did he?"

"Yes. But it's easy for him, when Malfoy isn't here. I don't know how well he'd do if he had to face him in person."

"If he muffs it, yeh jus' tell him again. Ron's a good sort. He won' never hurt yehon purpose, Harry."

Harry felt unwelcome tears burn his eyes again, and he gritted his teeth against his own weakness. Why could he not go more than an hour without crying? Why did thoughts of Ron set him off, now? Had he come completely unhinged?

"Drink yer tea," Hagrid advised, giving Harry a pat on the arm before he took a mammoth swig from his own cup. "McGonagall said yehcould stay as long as yeh wanted. I'll walk yeh up ter the castle, later."

"Can I stay 'til it'sdark?"

"I s'poseso. Why?"

"I want to see the stars," Harry muttered, his face heating.

"Didn' know yeh was fond of stars."

"Draco is." His flush deepened, but he kept his head up and his eyes on Hagrid's face, refusing to back down. Hagrid had first broached the subject of Draco, giving Harry tacit permission to talk about him, and Harry suddenly understood that it was safe to tell Hagrid what he could not tell McGonagall. "He likes stars. He always wants to stay out after dark to watch them. And I know it's stupid, but I keep hoping that he's... looking at them when I am." Harry's face crumpled with pain. "I sit in the window at night, when I can't sleep, looking up at the stars and hoping that, wherever he is, he can see them."

"Harry, yeh can'..."

Whatever comfort Hagrid meant to give, he did not get the chance. At that moment, they both heard the dull thud of something that sounded remarkably like hooves in the vegetable patch behind the cabin. Then a heavy knock fell on the back door. Hagridgot to his feet, frowning, and lumbered over to the door.

"Who's there?" he called, even as he wrenched the door open. "Blimey! Firenze!"

Curious, in spite of his own misery, Harry came up behind Hagrid and peered under his arm to get a look at their visitor. He immediately recognized the centaur, with his palomino horse's body and human head crowned with white-blond hair, but he had never seen him - or any centaur, for that matter - outside the Forbidden Forest. The unexpected sight of Firenze standing on Hagrid'sback stoop was enough to render him speechless.

"Good day, Hagrid." The centaur's pale sapphire eyes shifted to Harry, and the proud head inclined slightly in greeting. "Good day, Harry Potter."

"Hallo, Firenze," Harry mumbled, not sure what was the proper salutation to use with a centaur, especially one that looked so worried. Of course, centaurs always looked worried, since they spent their lives staring at the heavens and seeing the disasters that threatened the magical world prophesied there, but this particular centaur was positively twitching with anxiety. His flanks rippled at the lightest touch of the wind, and his hooves danced nervously.

"What brings yeh here, Firenze?" Hagrid askeed.

The centaur lifted his head, testing the air with flared nostrils, and his tail swished against his rump. "I have been sent to fetch you. You are needed in the forest."

"Like tha', is it? I don' suppose yeh'd tell me what I'm needed I for?"

"A matter of grave importance."

"Mus' be, if it brings a centaur ter my door at this time of day. All righ', then. Jus' let me get a lantern..." He turned to find Harry pulling on his cloak and reaching for the lantern that hung beside the chimney. "Yehwait here for me, Harry. I'll take yeh back to the castle when I'm done with Firenze."

"I'm coming with you," Harry insisted.

"Into the Fores'?Professor McGonagall would skin me alive!"

"Please, Hagrid!" A kind of panic was rising in Harry at the thought of being shut up alone in the hut, waiting for Hagrid to return. He needed fresh air and activity, something besides his own troubles to obsess over, and Firenze's mysterious errand promised all of that. "I'll stay out of trouble, honestly! Please let me come with you!"

"There is no danger, so long as you are in and out of the Forest before nightfall," Firenze assured him.

"What about Bane and his gang?" Hagrid asked.

"I am here on behalf of all the centaurs. Come, Hagrid. There is no time to waste."

Hagrid looked highly uncomfortable, but he could not stand up to the combined force of Harry's pleading and Firenze's pushing. With a resigned shrug, he grabbed his crossbow and quiver from the corner and ducked through the door.

"Yeh can carry the lantern, Harry."

Trotting to keep up with the longer strides of Hagrid and the centaur, Harry crossed the vegetable garden and approached the first outlying trees. "Why do we need a lantern? It's still daylight."

"Yeh'll see."

They entered the Forbidden Forest on a narrow track that appeared to have been made by some kind of animal. A game trail, Harry thought, except that he had never seen any normal sorts of creatures in the forest who might make such a trail. Perhaps the centaurs used it. Or the unicorns. Or the werewolves and giant spiders...Harry shuddered and picked up his pace until he was right on Hagrid's heels.

They had not gone far when the looming branches of the trees grew so thick that they completely blocked the sky, and the narrow, twisting path was cast into shadow. Harry called to Hagrid to wait and paused to light the lantern with his wand. When they resumed walking, Harry went between Hagrid and Firenze, lighting the ground before their feet.

Emboldened by the presence of two such formidable companions and cheered by the spirit of adventure rising in him, Harry turned to the centaur and asked, "Why do you need Hagrid so badly, Firenze?"

"There is a creature in the forest..."

Hagrid came to an abrupt halt and grabbed the back of Harry's cloak. "Tha'sit. Back yeh go."

For a sickening moment, Harry considered bolting back to the hut. His experience with the kind of creature that attracted Hagrid's attention was uniformly terrible, and he had an unpleasant feeling that anything the centaurs couldn't handle alone would be very nasty, indeed. But then he remembered how depressed he had been just a few minutes ago, before Firenzecame to the door, and he set his jaw stubbornly.

"There is no danger," Firenze repeated, saving Harry the trouble.

"What sort of creature is it?" Hagriddemanded.

"A human."

"Huh." The groundskeeper let go of Harry and started walking again, but he still wore a tremendous scowl. "I didn' think yeh centaurs had any truck with humans."

Firenzetrotted a few steps, impatiently, then matched his pace to Hagrid's, while Harry half-ran between them. "We centaurs do not meddle in the affairs of humans, but neither do we harm the innocent, and this intruder is but a foal."

"A foal? A child in the Forbidden Forest?"

"By the reckoning of our kind, yes.Still it took me nearly two days to persuade the others that we could not leave him to die. Had it not been for the portents, they would never have agreed."

Harry shivered. He didn't like the tone of this conversation at all, remembering as he did his first encounter with the Forbidden Forest and the centaurs."

"How did this... foal come terbe here?"

"He wandered into our glade two nights ago, sat down to gaze at the sky, and has not moved since. Bane would have slain him, coming as he did to the most private place of the centaurs to disrupt our studies, but our laws forbid violence against the young. He neither moves nor speaks, eats nothing, drinks nothing, and will soon die without the care of other humans."

Hagrid grunted. "That oughtta make Bane happy."

"The stars forbid it," Firenze stated flatly, his face grim in the shadows.

No one spoke for some time, and Harry wondered just how deep in the forest this glade of the centaurs was. He was getting breathless and tired, and wishing that he had not been so eager to join the expedition, when Firenze came to a halt.

Turning to Hagrid, he said, "The human lies in the clearing, just beyond this screen of branches. Take him and go. Do not lingerin the clearing, and do not stop until you have left the forest."

"Ta, Firenze," Hagrid said. He pushed the crossbow into Harry's hands and added, "Yeh stay here with Firenze. Don' step into the clearing, Harry, no matter what yeh see. This is the centaurs' place for stargazing, and they'll kill yeh soon as look at yeh, if yeh go in uninvited."

Harry swallowed noisily and nodded, clutching the crossbow to keep his hands steady. He moved closer to the centaur's glossy flank for reassurance, as Hagrid forced his way through the heavy foliage that hid the clearing.

As the branches parted, Harry saw a wide bowl of new grass, already in shadow as the sun sank toward the trees. It might have been beautiful at noon in Summer, with golden light pouring into it. Now, it was cold and damp and somehow even more uninviting than the dour forest that hemmed it in. Maybe it was the hostility of the centaurs, whomHarry could feel all around them, though he could not see them in the gathering dusk. Maybe it was the drawn intensity of the creature beside him. Or maybe it was the body lying huddled on the ground.

Harry took a step closer to the clearing, but Firenze halted him with word.

"Do not."

He obeyed, watching Hagrid stump over the short, patchy grass toward the unconscious figure in the clearing. The groundskeeper's wide back was between him and the body, so Harry could not see anything more than a bare foot and dark trousers - torn and muddied around the bottom - as Hagrid knelt over it. Then Hagrid shrugged off his moleskin coat, wrapped the body in it, and lifted the awkward bundle in his arms.

As Hagrid turned, Harry felt as though a centaur had just kicked him in the chest. Recognition, horror and a relief so intense that it made him cry out in pain flooded him. Dropping the crossbow, he started for the clearing at a run, but Firenze's hand fastened on his arm, dragging him back.

"Let go of me! Let go!"

"You must not enter the clearing, Harry Potter."

"Stay there, Harry!" Hagridcalled.

"It's Draco! Let me go!"

But Firenzedid not let go, and Harry was still squirming in his grasp when Hagrid shoved through the branches again, holding Draco Malfoy's inert body in his arms. He reached Harry but did not slow his mammoth strides. Turning to look over his shoulder at the stunned boy, he growled, "Grab that crossbow and move it, Harry!"

Bewildered, his head whirling with questions and protests, Harry bent down to retrieve the weapon. Then he sprinted after Hagrid.

"Get the lantern up so I can see," was all Hagrid said when Harry reached him.

"Is he alive?" Harry asked, his throat so knotted up with fear that he could hardly get the words out.

"He's alive, righ' enough, but he won't be for long, if we don' hurry. No, Harry! Don' stop! Yeh want us both killed and Malfoy terdie of the cold? Go on, then! Go!"

Hagrid's words drove away the last of Harry's confusion and resistance. Holding up the lantern to show the path clearly, he swung the crossbow to his shoulder, turned, and ran as if Voldemort himself were on his heels.

To be continued...