Stay Free

Chapter 9: Letters and Lessons

Harry smiled fondly. Sirius's handwriting was much neater when he was younger; perhaps all the years in Azkaban had left him without the memory of holding a quill. The letter itself was about a page and a half long, written with what looked to be a blue Muggle pen:

Dear Harry,

Well, I'm sitting in the waiting room of some Muggle hospital in Muggle London, waiting for Lily to give birth_to you, obviously. Lily insisted on having her baby in a Muggle hospital like her mother, and James does everything that Lily tells him to.

James (that's your dad) is standing in front of me, wearing a hole in the floor with his pacing. He's sweating a lot too, but all new dads are nervous. Remus--one of mine and your dad's best friends--is sitting on my right, reading over my shoulder and pointing out all the grammar and spelling mistakes. 'Course, I'll fix it all up with a Spell-Check Charm once we get home, but he insists on showing me them anyway. Peter's here, too, and he looks just as nervous as James.

Now, you may be wondering why I'm writing a letter. It's because James doesn't have enough time for it, between work and missions for the Order, and Lily is going to be stuck with you until you can learn to take care of yourself. I think it's best for you to know what was happening when you were born, because there is a war going on. Small but important details may be lost.

Someone's coming out of the door...the...er...doctor! That's it! The doctor's arrived. He looks pleased. James jumps up, with the nervous look that hardly ever crosses his face. They speak for a few minutes. Remus is fidgeting. I suppose after correcting all my grammar, he's gotten bored.

The doctor turns away and walks back to Lily's room. James begins to follow him, pauses, and beckons for us to follow him.

All right, I'm in Lily's room now. She's holding you in her arms, looking proud, exhausted, and way too happy. James squeezes into the bed beside her, and takes a turn holding you. Baby Harry. They're arguing--some things never change--over the middle name. They eventually decide on James, and he looks pleased.

Remus is taking a turn holding you now. He's handling you as though you're made of glass; which, in a way, I suppose you are, considering you're a baby. (Technically, he's not really supposed to hold wizarding babies--or Muggle ones, for that matter--but that's a conversation for a later time.) He mentions that you look just like James, but with Lily's eyes. I'm sure you'll be hearing that one for quite a while.

Uh-oh. My turn. Better not drop you.

Just handed you to Peter. My God. I was holding a baby. I never would have imagined it. Merlin, Harry, you're going to be a looker once you're of a right age. Those eyes...I could see myself in them...and I'm getting all choked up. I apologize.

I've still got the shivers from holding a baby; I did hold my idiotic brother, Regulus, when he was a baby, but he's dead and long gone now, so no use talking about things you'll probably never know about. Anyhow, that's the story of your birth. Sirius, the scribe. That's me. Your godfather.

Love,

Sirius Black

Just handed you to Peter.

Harry's hands clenched. Peter Pettigrew. Wormtail. The traitor had held him as a baby. The nerve of the man, to betray his friends in exchange for Voldemort's approval...

Harry folded the letter carefully, making sure to smooth out the creases. He noticed his hands were shaking as he opened the next one.

* * *

While Harry was reading Sirius's letters, Severus was sitting in his office at Hogwarts, waiting for Draco Malfoy to arrive. When the silver-haired boy appeared at the door almost shyly, Severus stood up and beckoned for him to come inside. He did, closing the door behind him and taking the seat in front of Severus's desk. His hands were clasped together firmly, his feet tapping anxiously against the stone floor.

"Dumbledore has told me that you wish to help the Order in other ways than just tell us about your father," Severus said, folding his hands across a thin stack of parchment.

Draco nodded eagerly. "I do, Professor."

"What do you believe you can do?" Severus inquired, fixing him with a sharp glare.

Draco continued fidgeting for a few minutes before replying, "I--I think I want to...become a Death Eater. To be another spy. So there can be more news for the inner circle. You said at the one meeting I attended that you were having trouble collecting information, because You-Know-Who doesn't trust you."

"This is true," said Severus, drumming his fingers along the parchment. "You do realize that there are dangers, incredibly difficult situations, not to mention everything you will have to know beforehand?"

"Yes," said Draco softly, looking down at his hands. "But I want to help. Seeing my father being thrown in Azkaban helped my perspective of the situation...Did you know that I practically worshipped him?"

Severus nodded mutely, and Draco continued.

"And...well, I don't really want to become a Death Eater in the way that most people do. I don't want to become a slave to some evil prat that believes he can still take over the world, just because he has a grudge against Muggles because his father abandoned him and his mother."

"But you want to help us."

"I do," Draco said forcefully. His voice bounced off the walls of the dungeon room, echoing slightly. "I don't want people to die because of this--this monster."

"A perfectly acceptable reason," Severus said lazily. "But why the sudden change of heart?"

"Because it's wrong what You-Know-Who's doing," Draco said furiously. "I don't know why it took me so long to understand it, but it's wrong, and evil, and just plain bad. I don't like it."

"You seemed to enjoy calling some of the Muggle-borns at school Mudbloods," said Severus, twitching as the slang rolled off his tongue.

"That was because I was an idiot," said Draco exasperatedly. "My father told me some of the things he and his friends did for fun, back in the 'good ol' days', when You-Know-Who was still in power. They captured helpless Muggles--ones that no one cared about, like prostitutes and drunks--and tortured them for hours, just to see them scream and cry in pain. It makes me sick to my stomach just thinking about it."

"When did he tell you of this?" Severus asked sharply.

"A few days before the O.W.Ls, on my birthday. We meet in Hogsmeade during the year. He likes to check up on me, make sure I'm following in Daddy's footsteps."

"And that completely took the idea of becoming a true Death Eater out of your head?"

"Yes," Draco answered quickly. "It disgusted me. He used a Memory-Projecting Charm to show me the 'fun' involved with Muggle torture." A shudder shook his body. "It was...horrifying. I vomited outside the Hog's Head once he was gone..."

"I'm right to believe that Dumbledore has found you trustworthy?"

Draco nodded. "Told me to come here and talk to you, so I could attend 'Death Eating for Beginners.'"

Severus sat back in his chair, thinking. It would be helpful for the Order to have another spy in the inner circle, but also equally dangerous. Not to mention the fact that Draco was a mere boy, not considered an adult by the wizarding world for another year. But he had been trained in the Dark Arts by Lucius Malfoy, knew the pain of the Cruciatus Curse, and was quite well at hiding his emotions. Severus didn't like the idea, but...

"Do you know of Occlumency and Legilimency, Draco?"

The boy nodded. "I do, Professor."

* * *

Harry couldn't look at the letter. Sirius's handwriting jumped in front of his vision once more, and his eyes clouded slightly as tears threatened to fall. He stared at the words, willing himself to read them. But he couldn't.

The small clock hanging lopsided on the wall ticked loudly as Harry tried to force himself to read, instead of just staring. He had read the first one; why couldn't he read this one?

Harry leaned against the backboard, ignoring the dust that fell in a grey shower onto his shoulders. He couldn't read the next letter. He just couldn't. It was more things from Sirius's past that he had written specifically for Harry to read once he was dead--it would mean accepting the fact that Sirius was not coming back.

There was a soft knock at the door. Harry hastily wiped his eyes with a dirty sleeve, and said thickly, "Come in."

Mrs. Weasley poked her head inside the door, pulling the hood of her cloak off her head.

"Hello, Harry dear," she whispered, pushing the door open a couple more inches. "Are you busy at the moment?"

"What? You mean this?" Harry gestured to the letter that he was clutching with white knuckles. "No--No, I'm not busy. I...I can't read it."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, a spark of understanding in her eyes.

"Of course, dear." She straightened her cloak, wrapping it more tightly around herself. "Professor Snape has stopped by, and he would like to speak with you."

Harry recalled the last time Mrs. Weasley had brought news of Snape wanting to talk with him: It was then he had first learned he would be learning Occlumency. And Sirius had been there. He had stood up for Harry, telling Snape that if he bothered Harry during the lessons, then he would have him to answer to...

"I'll be there in a minute," Harry mumbled. He touched the letters with a trembling hand. "I just want to clean these up."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley repeated. "I'll let him know, I'm sure he won't mind waiting."

She shut the door quietly behind her. Harry gathered up the letters once she had left, tying them back together with the ragged string. He fingered the bitten pieces fondly. Perhaps Padfoot had decided to have a go with the string...

Snape was waiting in the study, flipping aimlessly through an old Potions book. It was thick, and looked heavy; Harry doubted that even Hermione would be able to get through it in one sitting.

"Hello, Professor," said Harry softly, taking the seat opposite Snape. "Mrs. Weasley said you wanted to see me, sir."

Snape shut the Potions book, emitting a large cloud of dust. Brushing it away with his hand, he said, "Potter, how do you feel about taking Occlumency lessons with Draco?"

"What?" Harry blurted out; afraid he had not heard correctly. He eyed his Potions teacher suspiciously, but knew at once that Snape was telling the truth. "With Malfoy? Are you mad? Why?"

"Because I have been given the job of teaching you both," Snape snapped coldly. "I do not want to give up another hour or two of my day. It would be easier to teach both of you at the same time."

"But we don't get along," Harry pointed out.

"And neither do you and I."

"But there's a reason for that," said Harry. "You liked my mum and hated my dad. Malfoy and I simply hate each other because of the mere existence of the other."

Snape winced. Harry immediately regretted what he had just said; it was somewhat of the same thing James had told Lily, when answering the question of why he bullied Snape so much.

"Sorry," Harry muttered.

"Don't bother apologizing, Potter."

There was silence in the room for a few minutes, before Harry said grudgingly, "All right. I'll do the Occlumency lessons with Malfoy."

"Good," Snape said, looking relieved. "I have a lot of work to do, and Legilimency is exhausting. It will be easier to complete both lessons at the same time."

"Is Legilimency difficult?" Harry asked curiously. "Because you and Dumbledore are really good at it, and so is Vol--whoops, sorry--I mean, You-Know-Who is, too. You three are the only ones I know of who have mastered it."

"It is difficult," Snape answered simply. "It is not something you can learn by saying the right words with a wave of your wand. There is much more depth to it."

Harry waited for Snape to continue, but it soon became obvious he wasn't going to say anything more.

"When do we begin? Sir?"

Snape checked his watch. "In a few minutes. Draco is having a talk with Dumbledore."

Harry nodded. "Can we have a quick duel before he arrives? I want to try out this new curse I found."

"Where did you find it?" asked Snape suspiciously. "If you found it in any of the books here, Potter, it's Dark Magic--"

"I found it in one of my own books," Harry said impatiently. "It's not a Dark curse."

Snape relaxed visibly. "Very well." He withdrew his wand, and flicked it at the furniture. As though pulled by an invisible string, the couch, armchairs, tables, and bookcases were all yanked to the sides of the room.

Harry took his wand out of his jeans, holding it loosely by his side. His mind was automatically scaling the length of the room, deciding which curses and jinxes would be most helpful in the situation.

They stood facing each other, and bowed. "Ready?" Snape said, holding his wand out in front of him.

"Ready," Harry answered, keeping a tight grip on the handle of his wand. "One...two...three!"

"Expelliarmus!" Snape cried, but Harry had already expected it, he was ready--

"Protego!" Harry responded, and the jet of scarlet light bounced off into a bookcase, causing several of the books to fall to the ground. Snape ducked as a thin, red hardcover book narrowly missed his head. "Aureus obligatus!"

A thin, yellow rope burst from the end of his wand, and began sliding towards Snape. It wrapped itself around his ankles, growing larger as it tightened its grip.

"Rictusempra!" Snape snarled, but it looked as though his wand was malfunctioning. He looked at it with disbelief, and Harry took the time to shoot off another spell.

"Stupefy!" Harry bellowed, and the force of the spell knocked Snape off his feet, causing him to collapse into one of the armchairs. The rope was slowly cutting off the circulation in his legs; Harry could see him wincing.

"Finite Incantatem," Snape gasped, jabbing at the rope with the tip of his wand. The rope merely slithered faster, coming up to tackle his wand arm. "Potter, what the hell have you done?"

"It's called a Golden Rope," Harry said matter-of-factly. "Good for defence. Every time I try to curse you in our duels, you always blast it away. So I figured I'd try something that would make it nearly impossible for you to do anything."

Snape stared at him as he struggled to keep hold of his wand. "That's more than N.E.W.T level, Potter!"

Harry shrugged. "Want me to do the counter-curse?"

"What, you think I'd prefer this?"

It was one of the rare moments that Snape had made an attempt at humour. Harry rolled his eyes, but pointed his wand at the rope and said clearly, "Sutagilbo suerua."

With a small crack, the rope disappeared, leaving behind a faint trail of golden smoke. Snape stood up gingerly, examining his arm.

"'Effing hell," he muttered, rolling up the sleeve. There were angry red marks across his pale skin. "Didn't think you had it in you, Potter. That's a difficult charm."

Harry shrugged again. "I practice, you know."

"Good Stunning, too." Snape suddenly looked mortified that he had given two compliments in the same space of time, but the ugly look on his face was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Malfoy stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. His pointed face was paler than usual, and the hands in his pockets were trembling.

"Dumbledore has given you permission?" asked Snape, and Malfoy nodded. "Good. Then let us begin. Potter, you should know that Draco has already begun studying Occlumency. But you've never had your mind broken into, have you?" he added, looking at Malfoy. "At least, not in awhile."

"No," Malfoy answered, "I haven't. Not since my second year."

"Then you will be the spectator for a moment," Snape said lazily, tapping his wand against his leg. "I will attempt to break into Potter's mind. Watch."

Malfoy nodded, evidently not trusting himself to speak. He took a seat, leaning back into the black leather. Snape turned to face Harry, his wand out. Harry already had his eyes closed, trying to get his breathing steady, forcing every thought of Sirius out of his mind.

"One...two...three...Legilimens!"

The image of Sirius singing Christmas carols the previous year suddenly flooded Harry's mind. He tried to force it out, tried to put up a barrier against the spell as Snape had taught him, but it was simply becoming clearer...He struggled against it, but it felt like a Bludger had just shoved itself into the side of his head, his mind was exploding with images of Sirius--

He's dead said a little voice in the back of Harry's mind. He's dead, and you've got to accept it, otherwise you'll never be able to master Occlumency--

"STUPEFY!" Harry roared, and the room suddenly clicked back into focus. Sirius's face was slowly fading from his memory, and he blinked quickly, trying to erase the picture.

Malfoy was staring at Harry, his grey eyes wide. He then looked at Snape, who had toppled backwards over a table and was now standing back up, wincing as he moved.

"Good," Snape said, cringing as his weight fell on his right leg; that must have been the one that collided with the table. "How do you feel, Potter?"

"Like my head is going to explode," Harry groaned, rubbing his prickling scar. He had suddenly become overcome with anger, and he supposed that wherever Voldemort was, he wasn't happy.

Snape turned to Malfoy. "Draco, are you ready to have a try now?"

Malfoy nodded, saying, "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose so." He stood up, brushing a speck of dust off his robes. "What do I do, just shout some curse out?"

"It's not that easy," said Snape grimly. "I will try and force myself into your mind. You will try and defend yourself against me. Eventually, you will learn to use your mind, and not your wand."

Confusion was written all over Malfoy's face, but he nodded again, and walked over to face Snape. Harry stood, watching curiously. He had always wondered what it would look like on the outside, to see what he really looked like when he was having his mind being poked at.

"Try and relieve yourself of all emotions," Snape instructed, pointed the tip of his wand at Malfoy, who had his eyes closed. "On the count of three...One...two...three...Legilimens!"

It was the oddest thing Harry had ever seen. Malfoy suddenly jerked at the force of the spell, his limbs twitching as he fell to the floor. Snape was muttering things under his breath, but Harry couldn't understand what he was saying. Malfoy continued to jerk and twitch, looking tense and angry. Harry could hear sounds tumbling out of his mouth softly. He caught the words, "No," and "Please, don't."

It went on for a couple of minutes. Finally, Snape dropped his wand arm. Malfoy opened his eyes, looked around, and said, "Why the hell am I on the floor?"

"That was an incredibly awful first try," said Snape casually. Malfoy frowned, and got up off the floor. "Your mind is simply open, able for anyone decent enough at Legilimency to read. Even Potter managed to do better than you."

Harry snorted at the comment. Malfoy looked slightly hurt, and said, "But I don't understand it...How am I supposed to push you out of my mind? It all went by so fast...Merlin, I didn't think I remembered half the stuff in there..."

"You told me earlier today that you know of Legilimency," Snape said, while Malfoy continued to mutter to himself. "Have you tried that before?"

"Yes," Malfoy answered. "I practiced on Crabbe and Goyle. But, then again, they're trolls, so breaking into their mind can't be that difficult."

Snape was nodding thoughtfully. "Draco, I want you to try to break into Potter's mind."

"What?" they both said at the same time. Harry threw a dirty look at Malfoy, and received an equally nasty one in return.

"I don't want him poking around my mind," said Harry firmly. "It's bad enough that you do."

"And I don't want to see what's in Potter's mind," Malfoy added. "Who knows what's in there."

"Too bad for the both of you," Snape snapped, his wand arm half-risen in the air threateningly. "Potter, you will have your mind broken into by Draco, and Draco, you will be breaking into Potter's mind. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry said quietly, and Malfoy did the same.

"Good." Snape turned on his heel and returned to the couch he had been sitting on earlier. "Merlin's balls, you two have thick heads," he muttered as he sat down.

Malfoy stood facing Harry, his wand out nervously. Harry waited, but he didn't speak. "On the count of three...?" Harry said irritably.

"Oh! Right. Sorry." Malfoy cleared his throat importantly. "One--two--three--Legilimens!"

The force of the spell surprised Harry; he became suddenly aware that it had shoved him off his feet and that he was now lying face down, buried in the carpet as visions flew by.

Ron, Fred, and George were driving him away from Privet Drive in their old Ford Anglia...Hundreds of Dementors swooped down upon him, Harry could feel the air going cold...He was talking with Rita Skeeter in the Three Broomsticks, singling out the Death Eaters he had seen...Harry could tell that the spell was weakening after the last memory; after all, he had just named Lucius Malfoy as being a Death Eater, certainly a sore spot for his son...

Mustering up a last bit of strength, Harry aimlessly whipped out his wand and shouted, "Protego!"

The last time he had done this, his mind had been overflowed with memories of Snape's childhood. This time, however, it was of Malfoy's. A small boy, dressed in expensive robes, pushed a house-elf out of the way so he could walk down the stairs...An older boy, perhaps nine or ten years old, was peeking through an open door at which two men, hooded and cloaked, were discussing in low, anxious voices...Malfoy, looking to be the same age he was now, was clutching the bars of a prison cell, gazing at the man on the other side with pity...The other man, undoubtedly Lucius Malfoy, raised his fist and pushed it through the bars...Harry winced as he felt the pain hit his eye...

A small cry filled the air, and Harry felt, just as he had last time, the feeling of being pushed away with a set of hands. He fell backwards into an overstocked bookcase, his hands flailing about. What felt like hundreds of books toppled over onto Harry, burying him into the floor.

"Well, that was certainly an experience," said Malfoy's voice from above the dusty volumes. Harry spat dust out of his mouth, and pushed the books off himself.

"You've got a lot more interesting things in your mind than Crabbe and Goyle, Potter," Malfoy continued as Harry stood up. "But I still don't understand how you managed to force me out of your mind."

"Try it again," Harry suggested, kicking a thick green book entitled Purebloods of the Century into the corner. He looked at Snape, who nodded his approval. "Go on, then."

Just as "Legilimens!" flew from Malfoy's mouth, Harry was suddenly overcome with an exploding anger that started in the pit of his stomach and rose to take over everything else. He was furious...Malfoy's attempt at breaking into his mind had been weaker this time--the memories were hardly there--and Harry, the fury curling deep (Why was he angry, anyway? said the small voice in the back of his head, but Harry ignored it), raised his wand and yelled the first thing that came to his head.

"Viscus dolor!"

A jet of icy-white light zoomed out of his wand (Had he cast something? Harry wondered as he watched it) and slammed into Malfoy's torso. His wand fell from his fingertips, hitting the floor with a clatter. Harry, still blinking to clear his mind, barely heard the earth-shattering shriek that filled the room.

Malfoy had collapsed onto the floor, gasping for breath and clutching his stomach. His face was screwed up in pain, and a small moan escaped his mouth.

Snape had jumped up from his chair while Harry stood numbly, staring at his wand. What had he just done? He didn't remember casting any sort of curse...Malfoy coughed, splattering blood onto the white carpet. Harry felt his stomach lurch. He didn't care much for Malfoy, no, but he hadn't meant to make him cough up blood...What had he said, anyway?

"Where the hell did you get that curse from, Potter?" Snape snarled, very white in the face. He was staring at Malfoy intently, assessing the damage.

"What curse?" Harry asked, feeling dread rising in his stomach.

"The one you just cast, you idiot!" Snape bellowed, growing paler as his hand rose up in the air, as though he was going to strike Harry. He recoiled back, and Snape lowered his hand hastily. "Have you no idea what you've done, boy?"

"I-I don't know," Harry stuttered. "H-Honestly, Professor, I-I don't know...It just flew out of my mouth, and--and I was angry, but I don't k-know why--"

"No use talking," Snape interrupted. "Go get Molly. She has mediwitch training, she'll know what to do."

Harry didn't stop to think. Shoving his wand back into his pocket, he sprinted from the room. Another shriek of pain filled the corridor as he ducked under a house-elf's head, running down to the kitchen.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Harry finally reached the cellar door. He wrenched it open, and gasped, "Mrs. Weasley! Something's wrong with Malfoy, I hit him with a curse--I don't know where I got the curse from, though, and I don't remember casting it--but he's coughing up blood and he looks really ill--"

Mrs. Weasley, who had been standing by the stove, gave a cry of surprise. "Dobby, watch those potatoes!" she ordered to the house-elf, and, scooping up her wand off the counter, followed Harry back up to the study.

"Did you hear the curse, Professor?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she walked into the study. Malfoy was still crouching on the floor, moaning in pain and occasionally spitting blood.

"Yes," Snape said, eyeing Malfoy with an unexpected look of pity, "he said 'Viscus dolor'. I've never heard of it."

"Neither have I," Mrs. Weasley said anxiously, and she knelt down on the floor beside Malfoy. "All right, Draco...Show me where it hurts, we're going to fix this..."

Odd noises exited Malfoy's mouth instead of words. He tightened his grip on his stomach, and his hands were shaking.

Another high-pitched scream filled the room, though it came from the doorway. Harry turned his head to see Hermione standing in the doorway, her hands covering her mouth and eyes open wide in horror.

"Harry, what did you do to him?" she shrieked, and Harry could see there were marks on her face made by her fingernails. Ron, standing on the other side of her, was watching with a mixed look of glee and fright.

"I-I don't know," Harry answered shakily. "It just came out of my mouth, I don't know where I got it from, and I don't even remember saying it--"

He was interrupted by another wail from Malfoy, who had crawled against a chair. He leaned against it, cradling his stomach.

"I can't do anything unless I know what the problem is," said Mrs. Weasley helplessly. "Unless we can take him to St. Mungo's, there isn't anything I can do--"

But Snape shook his head violently. "They were practicing Occlumency and Legilimency...If he heard of this--"

"Understandable," Mrs. Weasley interrupted, nodding. "But, oh, Draco, just show us where it hurts--"

Malfoy appeared to have not heard her. He raised a shaking arm to his mouth, and coughed another mouthful of blood into the sleeve.

"Do we have any Blood-Replenishing Potions?" asked Ron. It was the first time he had spoken since entering the room. "That might help for a little while..."

"There are a couple potion flasks in the pantry, Weasley. Go and see if there's anything useful," Snape ordered, and Ron immediately set off for the kitchen at a run.

Harry looked down at his feet. Sure, he would have done anything to curse Malfoy like this any time before now, but times had changed. And now he felt rather stupid. He couldn't even recall cursing Malfoy--what was going on? This was all too weird...

Footsteps outside indicated Ron's return. He was carrying a flask in each hand, looking triumphant. "There was one Blood-Replenishing Potion, and a Pain-Be-Gone Potion as well. I thought that might help."

Snape and Mrs. Weasley each took a flask, and opened them. "Draco, open your mouth," Mrs. Weasley said coaxingly, holding the Pain-Be-Gone Potion in front of him. "This will help until we see what's wrong."

Malfoy opened his mouth, and Mrs. Weasley began pouring the contents of the flask down his throat. A disgusted look crossed his face, and he spat it up down the front of her robes.

"Of course it tastes terrible," snapped Snape in reply of Malfoy's unspoken statement. "All potions do. Now drink it."

Malfoy nodded mutely, and allowed Mrs. Weasley to pour both potions down his throat. His hands did not leave his stomach, which he was clenching with white knuckles. Mrs. Weasley tried to pry them off, but he let out another cry of pain, and she pulled her hands away immediately.

"It's got to be something with his stomach," Hermione said all-knowingly, surveying Malfoy with thoughtful eyes. "I think that's what's hurting him. Maybe the curse is aimed to give pain to the internal organs."

"You heard her, Draco," said Mrs. Weasley, looking very motherly even with a potion spilled down her front. "Let us take a look."

Slowly, Malfoy removed his trembling hands from his torso. He gripped the leg of the chair, biting his lip so hard that it bled. Mrs. Weasley opened up his robes, while the rest of the room watched in a hushed silence.

The white shirt that Malfoy had worn under his robes was soaked with blood. He had apparently been pushing down on his stomach to put pressure on the wound, and to stop the pain. Harry couldn't see the wound over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, but he could tell by the quick intake of breath that it was bad.

"Oh, dear," Mrs. Weasley said softly, "oh, dear. The curse has tore apart his intestines..."

"Then do something!" Snape hollered. His voice shook the room, and Harry resisted the impulse to cover his ears and cower in the corner.

Mrs. Weasley was already doing as Snape said. Her wand was sending streams of golden light into Malfoy's stomach, obviously mending the wound. Trickles of sweat dripped down her forehead as she worked, speaking spells too quickly to comprehend.

Snape watched fixedly, apparently lost for words. When he had found his voice, he said steadily, "I do believe this is the work of...of Dark Magic.

All eyes slowly turned to Harry, who felt his face burning at the looks on their faces. Hermione and Ron looked completely shocked that Harry would do Dark Magic; Malfoy looked enraged; Mrs. Weasley looked sad; Snape, well, Harry couldn't tell what Snape was thinking. His expression was blank.

"Dark Magic?" Ron repeated, and gave a shaky, nervous laugh. Mrs. Weasley was flicking her wand in the air, making a bandage across Malfoy's torso as her son spoke. Next, she was murmuring soft, warm words, and produced a silver light from the tip of her wand. Malfoy's expression softened; more of the pain must have left. "But...Harry doesn't know any Dark Magic...and he's never used any before, either." He looked at Harry anxiously. "Right?"

Harry felt his chest tighten up. Yes, he had used Dark Magic before. It had been on Bellatrix Lestrange, after she had killed Sirius. But that had been an accident...he hadn't meant to cast the Cruciatus Curse, he just wanted her to feel pain...And why had he suddenly become so angry at Malfoy, anyway?

"Potter has not used any Dark Magic," said Snape coolly. "If he has, then he certainly would be in Azkaban at the moment."

Harry let the smallest of sighs escape him in relief. Snape had covered up for him; they would not know.

"I don't understand," Mrs. Weasley said, almost pleadingly. "Why would he cast a curse that he didn't know?"

"He didn't," said Hermione quietly. Disbelieving eyes now swooped over to her. Her eyes were bright, the obvious sign that she had found an answer. "Harry didn't cast it. Voldemort did."

"Of course..." Mrs. Weasley murmured, and Snape was nodding approvingly.

"Clever girl," he said. "Good thing you pay attention to Potter."

"You-Know-Who?" Ron inquired. "How does that work?"

"We're connected, remember?" Harry said gloomily. "I suppose my Occlumency skills aren't as good as I thought they were. He can make me do things now..."

At the thought of it, Harry's entire body became icy cold. If Voldemort could control him...and he was the only person who could defeat Voldemort...Oh, it was certainly a mess...He didn't even want to bother thinking of the possibilities; he was already depressed over nearly killing Malfoy...

The two adults in the room were exchanging worried looks. Harry sat down very quickly in the nearest chair, his head in his hands. He had nearly killed a fellow student--with a Dark curse that even Snape had never heard of--and he couldn't remember casting it.

"He's possessing me," Harry choked, and he automatically looked down at his hands. They weren't spider-like and deathly white. Regular. He was fine. For the moment, anyway. "I think he's possessing me. I didn't remember casting the spell--and Ginny told me last year that when Voldemort possessed her in her first year, she couldn't remember any of the things he made her do--"

"That's enough babble, Potter," interrupted Snape. "Molly, would you mind taking Draco to Hogwarts? Madam Pomfrey can fix him up for tonight, she's dealt with Dark curses before..."

"Not at all, not at all," Mrs. Weasley said immediately, and she waved her wand at Malfoy. He floated up into the air, and, following the path of her wand, flew aimlessly down the stairs with Mrs. Weasley.

Snape fixed his eyes on Harry. "Potter, I'm going to go speak with the Headmaster about a meeting tonight. If we can manage it, you will attend."

"I will?" Harry exclaimed, as Hermione and Ron said, "He will?"

"Yes," Snape said coldly. "This is a serious problem...and I believe it will be smoothed over better if Potter knows what we are talking about. We do not need a repeat of last June."

Harry bit his lip and looked away. Ron and Hermione looked awkward, and they both gazed in separate directions.

Snape nodded curtly to each of them, then left the room briskly, his robes billowing behind him.

"Harry," Hermione whispered, "are you all right?"

"Perfect," Harry snarled. "I thought Occlumency was going all right this time, and it turns out that this is probably the first in a long line of Voldemort's--stop wincing, Ron--attempts to posses me. It's fabulous."

"But why would he try and have you curse Malfoy?" Ron asked, ignoring the dirty look Harry threw him while he spoke.

"Voldemort's probably trying to get Harry interested in the Dark Arts," Hermione pointed out. Her face was still white with fright, but she spoke calmly. "I mean, Voldemort's obviously got something against Harry. If Harry's on his side, it would be much easier to kill him, wouldn't it?"

It was almost identical to what Snape had told him earlier in the summer at the Dursleys. Hermione definitely was one of the smartest witches ever to set foot in Hogwarts. Harry nodded, and replied, "Let's go downstairs and wait for Mrs. Weasley to come back. Malfoy certainly isn't my favourite person, but I still feel horrible about nearly causing him to bleed to death."

And as the three off them walked down the stairs, Harry felt a lurch of annoyance in his stomach, accompanied by a bite of pain on his forehead.

* * *

Malfoy returned a few hours later, accompanied by a frantic-looking Mrs. Weasley. He looked weary, and winced with every step he took. The bloodied shirt he had worn earlier was clutched in Mrs. Weasley's hand, which she dangled a few inches in front of her.

"I'm sorry, Draco, but no magic will be able to get these stains out," she said apologetically, dropping the shirt into the trash bin beside the stove.

Malfoy shrugged, saying, "It's only a shirt, Mrs. Weasley. But thanks anyway."

On Harry's right, Ron was staring at Malfoy with raised eyebrows. Obviously, he was quite surprised at Malfoy's polite behaviour.

"Mrs. Weasley, do you know where Remus is?" Harry asked hopefully. He wanted to have a chat with the werewolf, to discuss Voldemort and the issue of being possessed. He desperately needed comfort, and that was what Remus was.

"Remus is working right now," said Mrs. Weasley briskly, her tone indicating that he was actually on a mission for the Order, and, no, she wasn't going to tell Harry what it was about. "But he will be back in time for the meeting tonight."

"Snape told you?" Harry inquired.

"Professor Snape, dear. And yes, he did. He stopped at the hospital wing after his talk with Professor Dumbledore." An ugly look had crossed her face as she directed the potatoes to the sink with her wand. "And, Harry, you will be allowed to be at the meeting. You too, Draco," she added, looking at the silver-haired boy.

"I know," Malfoy said, stretching out his legs like a cat. "I'm going to be entering the Order of the Phoenix in a couple of days, so I'll need to start going to the meetings."

Mrs. Weasley was muttering under her breath. Harry caught her saying, "Mere schoolboys", "Too young", and "Stupid, bloody Dumbledore..."

He decided then it was wise he keep his mouth shut.

Ron and Hermione, who did not know of Malfoy joining the Order, were staring at him. "You're going to be in the Order?" Ron questioned, a mix of fury, awe, and confusion on his freckled face.

"Yes," Malfoy said lazily, folding his hands over his stomach casually. "Snape contacted my father earlier today, convinced him that I'm loyal."

"So you're going to become a spy, like Professor Snape?" Hermione said eagerly. Mrs. Weasley sent her a reproachful look, but she ignored it.

"Yes," answered Malfoy.

"But you'll have to become a Death Eater!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yeah, and I'm definitely looking forward to that," Malfoy said darkly. "Yippee for me."

Ron had now turned to his mother. "Mum, are Hermione and I allowed to listen in to the meetings, too?"

"No," Mrs. Weasley snapped, and Ron looked taken aback by the harshness in her voice. "No, Ronald Weasley, you are not. And don't bother pulling the same thing you did last summer, because Harry won't be saying any of the Order's secrets." She threw Harry a dirty look, and he decided that, once again, it was good that he keep his mouth shut.

"Yes, Mum," Ron said quietly. He raised his eyebrows at the group as Mrs. Weasley turned back to the potatoes.

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the study, frantically searching for the curse he had used on Malfoy. He was hoping that, because the books were of the Black family, there would be at least one book that described the curse.

As the sun began to set outside the window, Harry shut the book he was currently reading closed. He tossed it into the pile of overflowing books, which were stacked crookedly beside the bookcase. The empty plate of sandwiches Dobby had brought him for supper had joined them.

He had found nothing. The Blacks, famous for the pureblood nonsense and connections with Dark Magic, did not have any books that showed the curse Harry had used. It made him furious.

Hastily, Harry shoved the anger back into his stomach. He didn't want to become angry anymore, certainly not after nearly killing someone...

Ron's head poked around the door. "Mum sent me up to tell you the meeting's about to start."

Harry stood up. He automatically flattened his rumpled hair, which he had yanked at in hopes of finding that damn curse.

"Sorry you aren't allowed to sit in on the meeting," Harry said, walking over to the door. Ron shrugged.

"It's all right. It'll probably be a bunch of babble, anyway, nothing that would be of importance to me." His tone was light and casual, but Harry could hear the hurt behind it. "Fred and George tell me things, though. I can get it from them so you won't get in any trouble."

Harry forced a small smile. "Thanks. Good luck amusing yourself for a couple of hours."

Ron sighed. "Yeah. Hermione'll probably quiz me on all the stuff on our O.W.Ls--by the way, did you get your results?"

Harry blinked. Now that he thought of it, he hadn't.

"No," he said slowly, "no, I haven't gotten them yet. I'll bet Dumbledore didn't want to send anything to me, afraid they might get intercepted and cursed or something. I'll ask him tonight."

Ron had started nodding when Harry began speaking. "Right, right, of course...Have fun at the meeting..."

"Yeah..." Harry said blankly, and then strode off down the corridor towards the kitchen, where, as Mrs. Weasley had informed him, the meeting would take place. He pushed open the door to be greeted by people talking in low tones, some looking up as he entered. Dumbledore sat at the head of the table. He inclined his head in a small nod when Harry looked at him, and gestured for him to take a seat.

He spotted Remus chatting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, and took the seat on the other side of him. "Hello, Harry," Remus said with a small smile.

"Ready to witness an Order meeting?" Kingsley asked. His voice was overly cheerful, which made Harry suspect he already knew of the afternoon's incident.

"Suppose so," Harry answered, looking around the room for people he recognized.

Hagrid, of course, stood out the most among the group of people; he was holding a tankard the size of a large bucket, taking in a gulp every now and then while he spoke with Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour. Mad-Eye Moody was inspecting a plate of chocolate brownies Dobby had made for dessert, sniffing them occasionally. Harry supposed he was checking for poison.

Hestia Jones, a black-haired woman who had helped rescue Harry from Privet Drive a year ago, was speaking with Emmeline Vance and Nymphadora Tonks, all three looking rather giggly. There was also Professor McGonagall, Snape, and Madam Pomfrey sitting at the other end of the table, drinking from glasses full of an amber liquid. Snape, Harry noticed, had barely touched his.

Fred and George Weasley were talking in a whisper with Mundungus Fletcher, handing over a small bag of gold and receiving in return a small black box, all the while looking carefully over their shoulders at their mother. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting with Charlie, who seemed to have returned from Romania with a fresh burn on his forearm.

There were other people in the room that Harry did not recognize, and he decided they were new members. As he tried to find other people he knew of, Dumbledore had stood up. The room immediately fell quiet at his presence.

"Good evening," he said pleasantly. "I know we do not usually have meetings so closely together, as if anyone was watching us all, it would be difficult to find a pattern. However, a matter has been brought to my attention that needs discussion. Before we do so, though..."

Dumbledore turned to Mundungus, who hastily hid whatever it was he was trying to hand over to Fred without anyone noticing. There was a twinkle of amusement in Dumbledore's eyes as he asked, "Has there been any news?"

Mundungus shifted in his seat, scratching his scraggly, ginger coloured hair. "I 'aven't heard much from Brad lately, but Roger says 'e can get in touch with that Macnair fellow next week."

Harry leaned forward to ask Remus who Mundungus was talking about, but realized that the werewolf was already answering before Harry had a chance to open his mouth.

"Brad is in the cauldron trade--at least, that's what he says. He sells black-market potions from the back of a used-cauldron shop in Knockturn Alley. A few known Death Eaters occasionally drop by--if Voldemort thinks Severus is being unfaithful, he doesn't use any potions made by him--and Brad tells us when they do so."

"Roger is the wizarding type of drug dealer," Kingsley added. "He makes Potions that work like Muggle drugs, such as heroin or cocaine. Macnair's hooked on it, and he sometimes lets things slip while he's buying it. Brad, Roger, and Mundungus have been good friends since Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, and leaned back in his chair to listen to the rest.

Dumbledore now rested his eyes on Hagrid. "Have you tried speaking with the centaurs, Hagrid?"

"Tried to," grunted Hagrid, setting his tankard on the counter. "No luck."

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "After the--er--incident with Dolores Umbridge,"--Most of the room sniggered, causing a small smile to cross Harry's face--"they have become quite untrusting, and will not allow anyone to pass through their forest." He sighed heavily. "We must, however, keep strong bonds with the centaurs. Though they do not believe Voldemort's views are right, they will fight alongside him if offered freedoms and rights we haven't given them..."

"Like the goblins," said Bill Weasley, and the room nodded and murmured in agreement.

"Yes," Dumbledore agreed, nodding. "Now, as I said in the beginning, there was a matter we needed to discuss immediately. I realize I've made a mistake; there are actually two. As most of you know, Draco Malfoy was rescued from the Malfoy Manor last week, to save him the trouble of his father."

"He's a maniac, that one," mumbled a grey-haired wizard across the table from Harry. Several others murmured in agreement.

"He has agreed," Dumbledore continued, "to give us more help than simply tell us what his father is doing. Draco wishes to become a Death Eater and a spy for the Order of the Phoenix."

Most of the expressions on the people around him turned to confusion.

"But--he's just a boy, Albus!" cried Emmeline Vance, wrapping her green shawl around herself tightly. "Won't be an adult for another year! And he's still in school!"

"I am aware of this, Emmeline," said Dumbledore calmly. "But Severus is having trouble getting information, as he did not show up in the Department of Mysteries last June because he was too busy trying to find Harry and the others."

A few eyes flicked to Harry, who felt his cheeks burning.

"But you told us about that Muggle family he was planning to murder," Tonks pointed out, glancing at Snape. Being a Metamorphmagus, she had changed her facial features to blue eyes, sleek black hair just below her ears, and a gold stud through her right nostril. "We saved them from being killed."

"I learned of it because Lucius let it slip while I was talking with him about Draco," Snape replied wearily. There were dark circles under his eyes that Harry hadn't noticed earlier. "And, as one of their cousins was a Muggle-born witch, she was able to put up the correct defensive charms. The Dark Lord figured they had become lucky, and dismissed the thought of a spy. However, he still does not trust me."

"But you are back in the inner circle, aren't you?" persisted Fred. "That's what you told us last time."

"Yes," Snape answered, and there was a satisfied glint in his dark eyes, "I am. But I am still not trustworthy. It would be helpful to have Draco there. Being the son of Lucius, he would automatically be considered a true Death Eater. Normally, a spy cannot become a Death Eater. A Death Eater must become a spy." His eyes flicked to his left forearm. "However, the Dark Lord won't even bother with the Veritaserum procedure, or poke through his mind. It will be assumed that Draco is trustworthy because of his background."

"He--is--a--child, Albus," Mrs. Weasley said through tightly gritted teeth. Harry noticed she had become quite motherly towards Malfoy since he started living at Grimmauld Place, the same way she had to Harry when he first visited the Burrow. Mr. Weasley, sitting beside her, looked weary and unhappy at the prospect of a debate.

"He may be a child, but he knows as much about the Dark Arts as Snape," George pointed out. "That curse he threw at Ginny last year--"

Mrs. Weasley turned to Malfoy, the motherly expression replaced with one of fury. "You tried to curse my Ginny?" she asked coolly.

Malfoy scratched the back of his neck anxiously. "Well--it was when I was on the Inquisitorial Squad, Mrs. Weasley, we were supposed to watch them while Umbridge went into the forest, I was defending myself, honestly--"

"If I remember correctly, Draco," Snape cut in smoothly, "Miss Weasley met your Dark curse and raised it a Bat-Bogey Hex. Quite well, actually. It took awhile to get the hex off of you, and by then, you were in bad shape."

Malfoy flushed, and Harry hid his snigger with a cough into his hand.

Dumbledore cleared his throat to restore order, though there was a shine in his eyes. "Draco Malfoy has already been given permission by me to join the Order of the Phoenix. If anybody objects to it, this is the time to speak."

Nobody spoke. Harry had the feeling none of them wanted to stand up to Dumbledore, and felt a surge of pride for the Headmaster.

Dumbledore folded his hands together, interlocking the fingers. "Very well. Draco, you will be given a proper introduction to everyone here next week. You will also accompany Professor Snape to the next Death Eater meeting."

"Am I going to have to go back to the Manor?" Malfoy asked quietly. "To live with Lucius?"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so."

Malfoy swallowed, and Harry could see fear flickering in his cold eyes. "I'll manage," the Slytherin said in a would be casual voice, but there was a slight tremor behind it. "Father will be pleased."

There was a few minutes of silence, before Dumbledore said, "The other discussion we must have...It is about Harry."

Most of the room flicked their eyes towards Harry for a few seconds, then returned to Dumbledore. Harry felt a tightening in his chest and throat.

"Harry was possessed by Voldemort earlier today," said Dumbledore simply. He paused to allow the gasps and small shrieks of surprise to echo in the near-silent room, then continued. "While practicing Occlumency with Draco, Harry cast some sort of Dark Curse. Neither myself nor Severus can trace its origin, and we assume it is something Voldemort has created. However, the problem is not what kind of curse that Harry cast, but why he did so.

"Because they are connected, at times, Harry feels certain bursts of Voldemort's emotions and feelings, accompanied by a pain in his scar. It is why I wanted Harry to study Occlumency last year, so he could block out any of Voldemort's memories and thoughts."

"But how would You-Know-Who--?" began Mr. Weasley, but Dumbledore held up his hand.

"It is Voldemort, Arthur, not You-Know-Who or any other silly nonsense like that," Dumbledore said. There was a definite hardness behind his voice. "You will call him Voldemort, or his birth name, Tom."

"Sorry, Albus..." Mr. Weasley said, flushing at being singled out, but continued after clearing his throat. "But how would...V-Voldemort--there, I said it--possess Harry? We were all under the impression that he was doing marvellously in his lessons with Professor Snape the second time around."

"Yeah..." said Harry, turning to look at Snape, "yeah...I was wondering about that, too. It's been getting harder and harder for you to break into my mind this summer, and you said I was getting better. I don't think you're losing your Legilimency skills, so that can't be the problem."

Something had dawned on Snape's pale complexion. Folding his hands on the table, he said slowly, "You're right, Potter. It has been getting increasingly difficult as the summer passed. However, it was such a drastic change--you had done horribly last year--I couldn't believe it at first...And now I see I should have stayed with disbelief...Albus, are you having the same thoughts as I am?"

Dumbledore nodded, stroking his silver beard thoughtfully. "I believe so, Severus...Please, continue..."

Snape did so, his eyes narrowing in thought as he spoke. "I believe that the Dark Lord put more of his traits into you then he thought...He possessed you in the Ministry of Magic, forcing the both of you closer together, bound by the scar on your forehead...I think he accidentally put some of his Occlumency skills into you, just as he had fifteen years ago, when he had given you the ability to speak Parseltongue."

"But what about the incident that happened just a few days ago?" Remus demanded. "In this very kitchen, remember? Harry was--well, I suppose he was possessed--by Voldemort, and he had said things about Dumbledore being an old fool--"

"That simply proves my point, Lupin," Snape interrupted smoothly. "It shows that Potter truly had no Occlumency skills. It was basically a lie, merely the Dark Lord's thoughts controlling his own. While Potter believed he was excelling in Occlumency, he was actually using the Dark Lord's skills instead."

There was a stunned silence after Snape made his statement. Harry could feel every eye in the room on him, and he could feel his face growing hotter by the second. All the progress he had made this summer...It had been a lie? And he had felt so close to succeeding...It had all been Voldemort...But if it had been Voldemort, and not him, then that meant Voldemort was in his mind constantly...For all he knew, he was there now...showing him the inside of Number, Twelve Grimmauld Place...The same idea had occurred to him the previous year, when Harry had thought he had been the weapon Voldemort was seeking. But now the thought of it did not seem so unbelievable now...

The same thought was etched onto the faces of the members of the Order. Harry could see the fear in their eyes, as though expecting Voldemort to burst out of his stomach, like in that Muggle film Alien that Dudley had been obsessed with a few years ago.

"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "do you feel...not yourself at the moment?"

Harry shook his head at once. "Whenever I was practicing Occlumency, I just felt very strong and powerful...and when I was mad, I would feel--feel like strangling something, or like biting with--with fangs...I don't feel like that right now."

"If you do," Dumbledore continued, voice still quiet, "I will suggest you move into Hogwarts. It is the second safest place, after Grimmauld Place, of course. Please pack your things tonight. I'll bring you there tomorrow morning."

Harry felt his legs trembling. He was, no doubt, frightened beyond words. He could be possessed by Voldemort at any given time, be forced to do things he would most definitely regret--

But before he could focus more on self-pity, Harry's thoughts were broken by the sound of something slamming hard against the table. He turned to look, and saw Snape holding his left arm on the table, a brief expression of pain crossing his face before being replaced by one of grim satisfaction.

"I have to go, Albus," Snape said through tightly clenched teeth. His right hand was gripping his left forearm tightly, and Harry knew at once that the Dark Mark was burning. "Should I take Draco with me?"

Dumbledore nodded, and Malfoy stood up. Harry saw that his legs, too, were shaking.

"I will bring a report back as soon as I can," Snape continued as he stood up. He bit back a small gasp of pain. "Good-bye."

A few people mumbled, "Good luck, Severus," or gave him a nod of approval. Snape made for the door, hesitated, then returned to his seat and tossed the contents of his drink down his throat. He then strode out of the room, followed closely by Malfoy.