Under Your Spell

Under Your Spell

Playing With My Memory

By the Empress of the Eclipse

~~~

Amazingly, Harry and Draco managed to get away with their midnight wander. The house-elves cleaned up all of the drips and sneaked up to the boys' bedrooms to take away their soaking robes and dry them. This amazed Harry and he asked Draco about it.

"They like you," Draco said simply. "You're popular among the house-elves."

"Why?" Harry asked.

"You treat them like they're human," Draco explained. "They like that I suppose."

"Aren't they?"

"No. They're house-elves."

Harry wasn't sure that he agreed with this. The house-elves might not be human but they certainly behaved in human ways. They did seem to enjoy their work but at the same time...it certainly seemed unfair to treat them like they were inferior beings.

The house-elves had also sneaked in and closed Harry's window. When Harry had woken up, the window had been closed and bolted, and all storm damage had been neatly cleaned up. Harry was glad that any damage (and he suspected there had been some, his last memory before sleep had been a crashing noise) was fixed but he was sad that the window was bolted. The bolt was stiff and Harry wasn't sure that he could work it. He'd have to ask for some help with that later.

They ate breakfast alone as Draco said that his parents preferred to eat together. Harry didn't question this. He was still feeling tired and this made him feel compliant. He didn't want to question anything, it only led to the necessity of receiving answers.

After eating, they walked out of the room together and Draco took Harry into the main drawing room. It was huge and similar to Draco's, only brighter in colour (green and gold) and with a huge window that looked right out into the grounds. There was a giant black marble fireplace, large enough for a full grown man to stand in and a great grandfather clock standing beside it.

"That's the bigger version of the one in my lounge," Draco said, noticing Harry looking at it.

Harry walked over to have a look. He couldn't help grinning at the different things that the "clock" said.

"Do you actually have any clocks for telling the time?" he asked.

"Of course," Draco said. "But these clocks are better."

Harry sighed and touched the rich dark wood of the clock. He'd never realised wood could feel like silk under his fingers before. He stared at the full-moon clock face with the ebony words around the sides, wondering why it was that he couldn't remember any of this. This surely wasn't the sort of thing you for -

"Draco?"
Draco, who was looking for a book in the bookshelf turned to look at Harry with a slight sigh of vexation. Harry's face was screwed up in a frown as he stared up at the clock.

"You said I've lived here a while?"

"Yes," Draco said, turning back to the bookcase and selecting a volume. "Since we started going out. Your Muggle relatives kicked you out. Wizard was bad enough. A gay wizard? That was just too much for them."

"Perhaps this is an odd question then," Harry said. "But....well...why aren't I on this clock?"

Draco dropped the book with a start. It thudded onto the floor, getting Draco's foot painfully. Draco didn't even notice the pain. He stared at Harry with a look of shocked horror on his face.

"W-what?"

"My name isn't on this clock," Harry repeated. "There's you, your father and mother...but not me. I just thought since I was living here, I'd have been on the clock. That's all."

He looked over at Draco and saw that Draco's face was a grey ashy colour. He was trembling violently and looked like he was going to be sick.

"Draco?"

"I'm fine," Draco choked out. "Fine. I....I can't remember why you aren't on the clock. The.. there's a reason but I've forgotten."

Harry didn't believe him. If that was the case, then why precisely was Draco looking so completely terrified?

But why was Draco lying?

Suddenly the spacious drawing room became terribly stuffy, the atmosphere cloying. Harry swallowed, aware that he was sweating hard. He didn't seem to be able to breathe properly any more.

"D-draco," he stammered. "I...I need to go outside."

Draco looked at him, eyes suddenly anxious.

"Harry? What's wrong?"

"I just need to go..."

Harry stopped and put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the strange roaring that was filling them. Everything in front of him was beginning to fade and blur into grey as the world began to close in around him. He was dimly aware of Draco pulling him over to the window and basically pushing him out of it onto a sort of terrace outside. Harry leaned out gratefully, gulping in great gasps of fresh air and watching as the world slowly began to turn it's normal colours again.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked softly. He was rubbing between Harry's shoulder blades in a sort of comforting fashion and Harry gave him a limp smile.

"Yes," he said. "Sorry."
"You never used to like the outside so much," Draco remarked.

Harry just shrugged and looked out over the still rain-wet garden. It was peaceful outside. Safer. He didn't know what it was, but something inside the Malfoy Manor hated him, something about it frightened him. He liked to be safe, in the open air.

"Draco, can we look around the gardens?" he asked hopefully. "I want to see them."
Draco looked slightly irritated by this request, but nodded.

"All right. You'd better go and put on better shoes though, the grass is soaking and you're bound to want to leave the path, knowing you."

He went over to the mantelpiece where there was a silver bell. Harry was getting used to those silver bells being all over the manor and didn't question it being there. Draco rang it and a second later, Squeak appeared. She seemed to have taken it upon herself to be their personal house-elf - or perhaps Harry was imagining it. At any rate, Squeak obediently vanished off and returned with shoes for them both which Harry neatly put on. They fitted perfectly but they didn't feel quite comfortable which made Harry frown. He was beginning to grow used to everything around him feeling slightly wrong but he just wished that he knew why. If he only understood what it was about everything that felt wrong, perhaps his memories would come back.

Draco let him out into the garden and began to show him around with no great enthusiasm. Harry was beginning to suspect that Draco was not an outdoor person. It was also possible that he wasn't a morning person either, particularly if his night's sleep had been disturbed by someone demanding to be taken out into a thunderstorm.

In contrast, the day was very sunny and warm, with a very clear sky. Everything in the gardens felt vibrant, fresh. And they were very odd gardens too. They started normally enough with beautiful flowers but slowly changed into strange things, things that Harry couldn't see why you would bother planting. Draco obviously spotted the confusion on his face because he began to explain.

"These are the herb gardens," he explained. "For Potions and cooking and so on. Mother always liked herbs, she has an affinity with them. That's why there are so many."
"Are they magical?" Harry asked.

"Yes. But some of them you'll find in any Muggle herb garden. That one's thyme and that one is mint and that one..."

For someone who didn't appear to be an outdoor person, Draco certainly knew his herbs. He even allowed Harry to go over and look at them more closely. Harry had to admit that the herbs were fascinating, particularly when Draco occasionally told him what they did in Potions. If he closed his eyes, he could almost believe he was somewhere else, somewhere cold and claustrophobic, where a different voice, a man's voice, spoke to him about herbs and their properties. He didn't like it much and he couldn't decide if it was a real memory or a made-up one and therefore didn't mention it to Draco. But he stored the herb gardens up as a good place to go to if he wanted to think. The exotic smells were relaxing and pleasant and it made him feel much safer to be out there than inside the confines of the manor.

Once they'd passed the herb gardens, the plants suddenly grew even stranger.

"These are the real magical plants," Draco explained helpfully. "Don't go round touching them, you'll probably get yourself hurt."

He went on to tell Harry a bit about some of the plants. Some of the plants were strangely familiar to Harry. Once again, if he scrunched up his eyes and concentrated really hard, he could put himself in another place, warm and airy, with a woman's voice kindly explaining the different plants. This proved to be a mistake however, because Harry was so busy trying to bring the scene into focus in his mind that he fell over and banged his nose. Draco laughed rather unkindly, but then helped Harry up.

"Okay to go on?" he asked.

Harry nodded, rubbing his nose. They kept walking. Harry suddenly became aware of the fact that practically ever since they'd started walking, they'd been heading upwards. It had been a sort of slow, gentle rise at first, but now it was getting steeper. Harry wanted to look back but he suspected that it would look best when they reached the crux of the walk, which was probably where Draco was talking him.

"We're practically at the end of the gardens," Draco said quietly, as though reading his thoughts. "We're about to reach the fence and then there's the Yulan Forest."

"Can we go in?" Harry asked hopefully. He still desperately wanted to explore that wild looking forest that he could see from the window of his room.

"Not today," Draco said firmly. "Father likes to know before we go in there. Besides, the forest can be dangerous and you can get lost in it. I'd rather we didn't explore that until you're feeling stronger."

"I'm perfectly strong now," Harry said.

"Right now maybe," Draco said. "Remember yesterday? You were fine for most of it and then you just keeled over. I don't what that happening in the middle of the Yulan Forest thank you."
"What's in it?" Harry asked.
"All sorts," Draco said with a shrug. "Magical beasts of any kind you can name, particularly as the mountains are right behind it. Sometimes dragons come down from the mountains and move through the forest."

"Dragons?"

"Of course."
Draco grinned at him.

"Scared?" he said, a distinctly mocking note in his voice.

For a brief second, the entire scene before Harry's eyes was super-imposed with another one. He was standing on a stage or something, his wand in his hand, Draco's eyes staring into his own, filled with rage and spite.

"Scared, Potter?"

"You wish."

Harry blinked and the super-imposed image was gone, leaving him suddenly feeling very drained.

"Don't worry," Draco was saying, having obviously missed whatever had happened to Harry. "There are wards to stop the dragons attacking the house. And who's afraid of them anyway? The ones around here are peanuts compared to the Horntail you fought, remember?"

"Of course I don't!" Harry snapped. The strange almost-memory had made him feel weak and ill and it had confused him.

Draco was looking hurt.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to - I wasn't thinking. Forgive me?"

"Of course," Harry said with a sigh. "I shouldn't have snapped...it's just I suddenly got this...thing."

Draco blinked at him and Harry explained what he'd seen.

"I don't remember that," Draco said, looking puzzled. "Maybe it's a false memory. Father warned me you might get those a bit at first - sort of dreams that are replaying like real memories because you haven't any of your own."

"Maybe," Harry agreed but he wasn't sure. The memory had definitely felt real...

They kept walking in silence for a while, neither noticing that the path was getting steeper and steeper, each one lost in a world of his own thoughts. Harry was trying to make his brain trust what Draco had told him, while doubting everything Draco had just said. Draco was full of worries and fears, each heightened by Harry's sudden attack of memory. Both boys interrupted their thoughts as they reached the fence.

"Okay, take a look back," Draco said. "This is the best part of this walk."

Harry obeyed and then his mouth fell open.

Spread out like a carpet before him was a sea of gardens, glowing different colours. And beneath the rolls of garden was the gleaming Malfoy Manor, made out of some sort of bright whitish stone and looking magnificent. Behind it seemed to be even more gardens.

"Everything you can see from this direction belongs to us," Draco said, sounding extremely proud. "Our boundaries only end where this fence is - and even then only in theory because no one else really owns the Yulan Forest so Mother really counts it as ours - and where that hill reaches the horizon."

"You...you must be really rich," Harry said faintly, still surveying it.

"You're not wrong," Draco said, the smirk back in his voice. "Weasley would kill for half of this!"

"Weasley?"
"Oh - "

Draco seemed to flounder briefly.

"Boy at school," he said. "Poor. Non-entity. You and I normally just ignore him so I doubt any memories will come."

One had though. Harry blinked as before his eyes he saw a flash of red hair, a cheeky smile. But then it was gone and Harry shook his head a little, trying to remove the image.

"This really is incredible," he said quietly. "Are you sure you're not exaggerating?"

"Hey, are you calling me a liar?" Draco said, pretending to sound insulted. Then he grinned. "Well, maybe a little. Quite a lot of the land out there doesn't really belong to us, but like the forest, it doesn't not belong to us either. So we normally just count it as ours, even though we couldn't actually sell it because it's not ours to sell. See?"

Harry nodded, even though he didn't exactly. Still, Draco seemed to know what he was talking about which meant that it was probably correct in some way.

"Do you want to go down again now or do you want to walk along the boundary a little?" Draco asked. "There's not much to see but sometimes things come to the fence from the forest so you can get a glimpse of some interesting things."

"I'd like to walk along the boundary," Harry said instantly. The idea of walking back down to Malfoy Manor was not appealing. He somehow knew that he would never get any memories in that place. If he wanted to recover his mind, he had to be outside in the fresh air, with the life. There was something dead about Malfoy Manor, quiet and dead and strange. Harry felt that sad things had happened there, great, terrible, sad things that Harry couldn't possibly understand. He didn't like the feeling.

They wandered along the boundary for quite a while but all they saw was one large, very normal rabbit. It appeared to be quite tame for it didn't run away, even when Harry scrambled over the fence to kneel down and watch it as it nibble on the leaves.

"We should catch it," Draco remarked. "It would probably make a good meal."

"No!" Harry said, surprised at his own vehemence. He had no problem with eating meat, not even rabbit...it was just this rabbit.

"All right," Draco said with a shrug. "But do we have to watch it? There is something extraordinarily uninteresting about small fluffy creatures, despite many people insisting that they are cute."

Harry rather suspected that this rabbit was cute, but he didn't say anything. Scrambling back over the fence, he let Draco begin to lead him back. He suspected that he'd had enough in any case. His head was beginning to thump again in a rather uncomfortable manner.

The walk down was somewhat quicker than the walk up, mainly of course because they were going downhill. They were however, was slowed down by Harry's headache, which was growing worse.

"I wish you'd know when to stop," Draco said as they stopped for a breather and Harry massaged his forehead with his hands. "If this keeps happening, it's going to be very unproductive to us doing anything ever."
"Well I'm sorry for bumping my head!" Harry snapped, then frowned. "Um Draco? How did I lose my memory anyway?"

Draco sighed and sat down next to him.

"We were pratting about in the forest," he explained. "Only on the outskirts. Anyway, you were betting me that I couldn't climb as high as you so we had a tree climbing competition. I stopped when we reached a certain level - I told you it was too dangerous to go any further. But you didn't listen and climbed higher. Then one of the branches broke and you crashed straight down to the floor, landing right on your head. I nearly had a heart attack. I thought...thought you were dead. It was awful."

He shuddered and Harry winced guiltily.

"Sorry," he said.
"Don't be," Draco said. "You weren't dead, which is what was important. But I had to carry you all the way back down to the Manor. I was seriously in a state when I got you back let me tell you. Anyway, we took you straight to the sick room and Father watched over you until you woke up. Only you'd lost your memory. The rest of this story you know about."

Harry nodded slowly. Why did the story ring false? It made sense all right - it made perfect sense. It was a good explanation. But why?

It was only when they started walking again that he worked out the answer.

Draco had said that he'd landed right on his head. But when he'd been feeling his head, the top of his head hadn't ached at all, It had been the back of his head that had been causing him pain and there had been a small cut on the side of his forehead, almost hidden by his hair. Surely those injuries wouldn't have been caused by a fall on the top of his head?

His headache was beginning to increase. By the time they reached the door they'd left by, Harry was pulling faces with the pain and Draco was regarding him with an extremely anxious air.

"We'd best get you straight back up to bed," he said.
"I'm not tired," Harry grumbled weakly as they walked as quickly as possible through the corridors. "Isn't there some magical headache cure you can give me?"

Draco laughed.

"I wish it was that easy!" he said. "I can ask Father though if you like, he might - "

Draco stopped talking very abruptly as they entered the Fountain Hall as Harry had taken to calling it. Harry was about to ask what was wrong when his head suddenly felt like it was splitting open and he moaned, trying manfully to stay on his feet. Gritting his teeth, Harry looked along to see what had made Draco stop speaking.

Lucius and Narcissa were standing together in front of the stairs, looking calm and regal as usual. Standing in front of them was a man. At least, Harry assumed it was a man because he'd never seen any man who looked like this. His face was white as bones and the eyes that were now fixed almost hungrily on Harry's face was red and the pupils were slit like a cats. Harry had no memory of seeing anything like it before. He tried to meet the red eyes boldly to pretend this was all completely normal but when he did so, his forehead hurt even more and he had to look away. His legs shook slightly and Harry was terribly afraid that he was going to fall over and disgrace himself. This obviously concerned Draco too because he quickly grabbed Harry's arm, adding firm support. Harry was rather glad to know that whoever this man was, he obviously frightened Draco too because Draco's hand was gripping tight as a vice.

"Harry," Narcissa said, her voice as queenly as ever. "I don't suppose you remember our Lord do you?"

Harry suddenly had the strangest feeling that this was a test of some kind and that he had no idea how to pass or fail it. He shook his head.

"Sorry," he said in what he hoped was an apologetic voice. His head was hurting him too much for him to really care.

"This is Lord Voldemort," Narcissa said quietly.

Harry was surer than ever that some sort of reaction was expected but once again he had no idea what it was. Beside him, Draco suddenly loosened his grip and bowed to Lord Voldemort. Harry wanted to do the same but he suspected that if he tried, he would keel straight over. Instead, he tried to look respectful. Lord Voldemort was still staring at him. A smile suddenly split his face and he nodded.

"How nice to see you again Harry," he said and there was a slightly mocking undertone to the words that Harry didn't even pretend to understand. "Although I suppose this is the first time for you, isn't it?"

"Yes sir," Harry said.
"My Lord, idiot!" Draco hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"My Lord," Harry corrected quickly.

This seemed to amuse Voldemort. He smirked and Harry felt his headache flare up worse than ever. He yelped and pressed his hand to his forehead.

"If the boy has such a bad headache, perhaps Draco should take him straight up to his room," Lord Voldemort suggested in a solicitous manner. "I'd hate to have him suffer needlessly."
"Draco," Narcissa said.

Draco nodded his head. He led Harry over to the staircase, then turned and bowed a final time. He then walked Harry carefully up the stairs, getting him round the corner before they sped up. Harry sensed Draco wanted to get as far away from the entrance hall as possible and let himself be rushed in so much as he could bear.

"Draco, who was that?" he asked as Draco helped him sit down.

"Lord Voldemort," Draco said, as though that explained everything. "Our Lord and Master."

"Great," Harry said. "So, run that by me one more time?"

Draco gave a harsh bark of laughter and sat down on the bed rather weakly.

"Mother and Father serve him," he explained. "I will too when the time comes. He occasionally comes to the Manor since Father is really his right hand man."

A look of pride came onto his face.

"A lot of people would kill for the influence my parents have!"
Harry wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. He leaned back against the cool pillows and tried to breathe calmly, hoping that would help the headache.

"Have I met him before?" he asked.

A very odd look suddenly crossed Draco's face. It appeared to be a mixture of sadistic amusement and almost sadness.

"Oh, you've met him all right," he murmured, his eyes looking over at the window as he spoke. Harry sighed and pressed his head against the pillows again.

"This headache is killing me," he said, seriously meaning it.

"It'll die down," Draco said, still sounding very preoccupied. "Don't worry about it."

Harry did. He leaned back against the pillows again, wishing his headache would just die down, just a little. And what was wrong with Draco?

Harry closed his eyes, trying his hardest to relax. The pain was dying down slightly, or perhaps he was just getting numbed to it. Whichever it was, Harry just lay there, able to relax a little. He stared at the blackness behind his eyelids and watched the strange patterns that always appeared.

Only they seemed to be making a coherent shape. As Harry watched them, he suddenly - for the briefest of seconds - saw a tall good looking boy. And Harry knew that he knew that boy and the name Cedric came straight to mind, but the image almost instantly changed into Lord Voldemort. And one word came into his head.

Dead

.

Harry sat up with a jerk and gasped as his forehead promptly throbbed. Draco looked at him.

"What now?" he asked.

"That man," Harry said. "Voldemort...he...a boy. Cedric."

Draco's face went ashy again. He was staring at Harry with an extraordinary look of utter horror in his eyes. Harry stared back, aware of the reaction that he had caused.

"Who is he?" he demanded. "Cedric? He's dead isn't he?"

"Yes," Draco said, after a moment's pause. "Yes, Diggory - Cedric - is dead."

"How?" Harry demanded feverishly. "How?"

He had to know. He knew there was a key here, knew that there was something vitally important that he utterly had to know. Draco swallowed and stared at the covers.

"Harry...I don't think this is..."

Without even realising what he was doing, Harry grabbed Draco by the collar of his robes and glowered at him furiously.

"Tell me right now or I swear I will punch your face in!" he spat.

"All right, all right! Stop throttling me!"

Draco pushed Harry violently back onto the bed and looked away.

"Cedric...Cedric was the reason you got expelled Harry."
"What?" Harry said.
"There...there was an accident. You and he had been rivals all year...it's a little complicated, especially as you don't remember magic but it was something called a Triwizard Tournament...you and he were both picked to represent Hogwarts. You weren't supposed to but it was an accident. Anyway...the two of you were neck and neck in the final task. I don't know exactly what happened - it was confidential and you never wanted to talk about it. I know it was an accident...I know you never meant..."

Harry stared at him, a horrible cold lump beginning to grow inside his stomach.

"You were found together," Draco said quietly. "He...he was dead. You were...leaning right over him. We knew whatever happened would have been an accident but his parents...some of the staff...well. You were expelled for it."

Harry said nothing. He moved away from Draco and stared at his lap silently, trying to absorb this information. He'd been expelled from school for...killing someone? Accidentally perhaps but for killing some innocent person? That...that couldn't be true, it just couldn't be. How could he possibly have done that to someone? No...no, this wasn't right, it couldn't be right...
"Harry?"

Draco moved over and crawled onto the bed, gently touching Harry's arm.

"Harry, I'm really sorry," he said. "I didn't...I wanted to tell you differently...I didn't want to have to explain it like this..."

"No," Harry said softly. "No. This isn't the truth."

"Harry...I'm sorry..."

"NO!" Harry yelled, jerking away from Draco's fingers. "This isn't real! You're lying to me, that wasn't how it happened, I know it!"

"Harry, I promise you..."

"You're LYING!"

Draco moved away, a look of frustrated anger visible on his face. For a long moment the two boys stared at each other, dislike etched on each of their faces. For the first time since he'd woken up, Harry felt a strange feeling of rightness. This was what was supposed to happen. This was what it was normally like.

Then the anger faded from Draco's face and his shoulders seemed to sag.

"I'm so sorry Harry," he said again. "I...I'd best go, best...I'm really sorry."

He walked out. Harry stared after him, then flopped down on the bed, drawing his knees up so he was huddled. He wanted to cry but there were no tears and he didn't really know why he was crying in any case. This was pointless. Everything was so wrong, everything was just...and yet there was truth. That was what made it worse. He knew that Cedric Diggory had died...but he didn't know how. And what did that horrible Lord have to do with it all?

His forehead suddenly flared with pain, then it died down quite considerably. The pain was still there but it was now a mere discomfort rather than a thumping feeling of agony. Harry rubbed his scar, noting that the pain seemed to be coming from there rather than anywhere else. He lay there rubbing it. It seemed to help him concentrate, at least a little. This scar...Draco had said he'd got it in a car crash when his parents had died. Harry had thought that sounded wrong. It sounded like something that he might remember. Did he remember that?

Harry closed his eyes again, staring at the darkness there and trying to summon up images from the depths of his mind. All this did was increase his headache and Harry eventually gave up. He sat up and walked over to the window, desperately wanting fresh air. After struggling futily with the bolt for a while, he looked around until he spotted the silver bell. Rather reluctantly, he rang it. Seconds later, Squeak appeared.

"Can you please open the window for me?" Harry asked. "I can't undo the bolt."

"Master shouldn't have his window open so wide," Squeak said, obediently trotting over and hopping easily up to slide back the bolt. "If Master does that again, we shall have to leave the bolt on."

"I won't," Harry promised "Thank you."

Squeak seemed to be lingering, her eyes on Harry nervously. Harry frowned, wondering what was going on. The house-elf had always vanished straight away before when any of the Malfoys had summoned her up.

"Is something wrong?" he asked uncertainly.

Squeak rocked back and forth a little, as though she was uncertain about what she was going to do. Then she reached inside her pillow case thing and produced a small smooth rock which she dropped onto Harry's bed. It was pinkish in colour and had been well polished.

"Tis rhodonite Master," Squeak whispered. "It...it aids in memory. If you put it under your pillow...memories return."

Then she vanished. Harry blinked at her, then walked over and lifted up the warm pink stone, looking at it closely. It was very beautiful but how was it supposed to aid his memory?

Still...it couldn't hurt. Harry carefully tucked the stone under his pillow, then walked over to the window and leaned out of it, inhaling the cool air deeply. The last traces of his headache faded and he felt somewhat rejuvenated, despite the fact that his scar was still throbbing gently. He pushed the information Draco had given him about Cedric Diggory to the back of his mind. True or not, he couldn't do anything about it and there was no point worrying until he could. If it was true...well, surely it had been an accident like Draco said? And if it wasn't...

Oddly, Harry found the idea of considering the idea that he had not killed Cedric Diggory more worrying than if he had. If he had, then things weren't fine but there was certainly an explanation for it somewhere. If he hadn't...

Then Draco had lied to him for whatever reason. And if Draco was telling him deliberate lies...

Harry didn't want to think about why that might be.

He let his thoughts drift away from the unpleasant thoughts and thought about the wonderful herb gardens instead. It was so beautiful out there...and it smelt nice. It was like there were memories trapped in there, memories that he didn't know about or understand. He was sure that if he could wander round there alone for a little while...

But somehow he suspected that he wasn't going to get that wish. Draco nearly always dogged his every step - except in small moments like this where he was allowed to brood by himself. And if Draco wasn't there, then one of the house-elves would normally appear.

House-elves. Now they were a real mystery to Harry. They worked tirelessly for the Malfoy family, they were their slaves. The Malfoy family seemed to think very little of them and Harry felt that the house-elves were afraid of the Malfoys.

But Squeak seemed to like him. She didn't seem to be scared of Harry, or to dislike Harry. What seemed to have scared her was giving Harry that...rhodonite had she called it? Perhaps the Malfoys hadn't know about it. In which case, it would be best not to mention it to anyone...just in case.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped violently and nearly fell out of the window. Narcissa laughed.

"Harry, is there something about me that makes you suicidal?" she teased gently. "That is the second time in two days that my presence has made you attempt to leap off something."
Harry laughed a little self consciously, aware that it must have looked odd to find him leaning so far out of the window. He didn't want to explain to Narcissa that it was because something about her house made him feel ill and stifled. Luckily, Narcissa didn't ask. She glided over and stood beside him, looking out at the spread of gardens.

"Do you like our gardens?" she asked quietly.

Harry nodded eagerly.

"They're beautiful," he said. "I'd love to explore them more, it would be so much fun."

Narcissa nodded disinterestedly.

"Where is Draco?" she asked.

"He went out," Harry said. "Out of here I mean. I...he got upset."

"What about?" Narcissa asked, her voice neutral.

"I...he told me. About Cedric Diggory," Harry said.

"Oh."

Narcissa's voice was as neutral as before but Harry thought he detected an undercurrent of fear there. He wanted to ask why but resisted the urge, pretending that he hadn't noticed.

"That I...did something," he said. "Something to him. And that he died. That I was expelled because of it."

Narcissa nodded. She reached up and touched the tender spot on the back of Harry's head. It hurt but Harry felt a flicker of electricity run down his spine and realised he was blushing again.

"I'm sorry," Narcissa said softly. "I wish that we could explain more to you than we could offer for what happened. I understand that it must be an unsatisfactory explanation."

"I don't believe it," Harry burst out, then regretted it as Narcissa flashed him a piercing look. "I mean...I don't know. I just don't..."

"I can understand," Narcissa said quietly. "Don't worry about doubting it. It is the truth but I can understand why this is very hard for you to accept."

Harry didn't reply. He stared back out over the gardens, longing to be back outside among them. What was it about Malfoy Manor that felt like it was trying to oppress him? He felt so smothered, so...so...

"Who was that man?" he asked abruptly. "Lord Voldemort? I...Draco was cagey about him."

"He is the most powerful wizard in the world," Narcissa said. "He is the descendent of Salazar Slytherin and he rules us. We serve him as he battles against Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?"

"The Hogwarts Headmaster," Narcissa said, her voice going icy. "He's a worthless fool, the worst thing that ever happened to that school. It used to be an institution for teaching our children strong magic. Now...they just allow any Mudblood or any freak in there."

Harry frowned, suddenly almost swamped with an irrational urge to shout at Narcissa. That wasn't true, he knew it wasn't...for a moment he could see a kind man with long white hair and there was a memory of feeling utterly safe...

But then the memory skittered away like all his other memories and Harry choked back his desire to shout at the only person he felt that really liked in this house. Narcissa seemed to have missed the conflict in his face. She touched the back of his neck again lightly.

"Would you like me to send Draco in?" she asked. "Or do you wish to remain alone?"

"I...I think I'll wait a bit," Harry said. "I'll find Draco in a while thank you."

Narcissa nodded and swept out. Harry looked after her. Was this new or had he always had a crush on his boyfriend's mother?

Harry waited until he was sure that Narcissa wasn't around, then headed off to find Draco. He wasn't sure why he wanted to be around Draco but he knew that he wanted to be around someone who at least seemed human. Narcissa was beautiful but she was inhumanly so, regal and icy. Lucius...Lucius frightened him however nice he might seem. Draco...Harry wasn't sure that he liked Draco, despite the fact that Draco was his...supposed to be his boyfriend, but at least Draco did seem to like him a bit.

Harry sighed to himself as he tried to remember his way through the halls. Why couldn't he had his memory back? He so wanted this place to feel like home to him, to feel safe with people he'd obviously once considered his family. So why couldn't he?

If they never were your family, you'll never be able to accept them.

Harry banished the thoughts. He was going to keep all those thoughts away until he had more memories. Right now, all he had was funny suspicions created by his snippets of memories. And it was wrong to let those affect his judgement.

He grinned proudly, realising that he'd found himself in the right place without the help of anyone. This was Draco's drawing room. Harry carefully opened the door and peered inside. Draco standing in there, Lucius too. Lucius was standing very close to Draco and holding his chin with his hand. Draco looked oddly frightened, staring up at Lucius with huge grey eyes.

"Um...am I interrupting?" Harry said timidly.

Both occupants of the room jumped and looked around at Harry as though not expecting to see him. Lucius looked strangely angry but Draco seemed relieved.

"Harry! I thought you were resting!"

"I was," Harry said uncertainly looking at Lucius. "But I decided I felt better...I wanted to talk to you."

Draco looked at his father, almost asking for permission. Lucius suddenly looked highly frustrated. He pushed Draco away and swept out past Harry, vanishing quickly into the shadows.

"Did...did I do something wrong?" Harry asked.
"No," Draco said. "No, you did great."

He stepped over and kissed Harry on the cheek.

"Forgive me? For earlier?"

Harry nodded and let Draco hug him. He wasn't sure what he was going to do for the rest of the day but he knew what he was going to do that night. He was going to go to sleep holding that rock and see if it helped with his memories. Because there was something very, very odd going on in this house.

* * * *

Harry spent the rest of the day playing wizard chess with Draco. Once Draco had reminded him of the rules, Harry discovered that it was quite enjoyable, mainly because both boys seemed to be equally matched. It was odd in a way because Harry was sure he remembered being spectacularly defeated at chess by somebody but perhaps he'd played against someone else at Hogwarts because he somehow he was sure that he hadn't played it with Draco.

Eventually they had to stop when Harry suddenly got an absolutely blinding headache. He didn't mention it to a worried Draco, but just before he'd got it, he had another of his super-imposed moments with an image in front of his eyes. This time, he'd seen giant chess pieces all around him and heard someone yelling in pain as one of the pieces crashed to the floor. This particular image made Harry feel even more certain that he was losing his mind and having strange, unreal memories. Chess pieces were small, not human sized. And one thing they didn't do was scream.

Dinner at Malfoy Manor turned out to be an uncomfortable affair which Harry didn't enjoy at all. For one thing, there was rather a lot of it. Harry had been hungry but after what felt like the sixteenth million course, he decidedly wasn't. The table wasn't really that long, but it felt it to Harry, who felt cut off from everybody, particularly as Lord Voldemort was still there, along with another man who looked nervous and twitchy. Lucius casually introduced him as Wormtail. Harry disliked him on sight which was odd because Wormtail didn't seem to be particularly offensive. In fact, he appeared to be distinctly nervous and wouldn't look at Harry at all. But Harry knew that he hated this man, no matter how inoffensive he seemed. He also quickly came to the conclusion that he hated Lord Voldemort too. He didn't know why, knew that it was an irrational feeling too but he hated him with something deep inside that he couldn't hide. Voldemort ignored him completely, only speaking quietly to Lucius and Narcissa. Occasionally, his eyes would flicker over Harry and he would smirk, a dark smug expression which confused Harry no end. He also slowly became aware of something rather strange.

Whenever Voldemort looked at him, Harry's scar hurt even more.

Harry didn't even pretend to understand why this was, any more than he could explain his irrational dislike of both of these men. All he knew was that these feelings, combined with a strong headache, meant that he was distinctly uncomfortable. Draco seemed perfectly at ease with it all, meaning that he didn't pick up on Harry's nervousness. This made Harry feel even worse. He had no idea what he was supposed to do and therefore practically didn't dare speak throughout the meal.

"Are you ill Harry?" Draco asked afterwards and Harry, desperate for escape, nodded his head. It's wasn't entirely a lie - his headache was back in force. Draco helped him up to bed and tucked him in like he was a little kid.

"I'm sure it'll all be better in the morning," he said, sounding insincere. Harry just nodded and nestled down, hand slipping under the pillow to hold tightly to the rhodonite. His last image before his eyes closed was of Draco, looking strangely frustrated as though Harry was doing something wrong on purpose. Harry felt guilty but knew that was stupid. Whatever was going on, none of it was his fault.

Harry dozed off, aware that his head was seriously throbbing again.

Perhaps it was the fact that he went to sleep with such a painful headache or maybe it was because he was clutching the rhodonite that Squeak had put so much faith into. Whatever it was, Harry dreams were extremely strange.

He started them by sitting on a cloud. It was a very soft, fluffy cloud and Harry rather liked it there. He was looking down at a huge castle with towers and turrets and grounds that were even bigger than Malfoy Manor. Right below his cloud was a very large tree with branches that softly waved, despite there being no breeze that Harry could feel.

As he watched the tree, the scene around him suddenly changed. Now it was night-time and there was a strange humming sound in the air nearby. Harry wondered if it was an aeroplane, then realised with the detached surprise you often feel in dreams that it was a blue Ford Anglia. As Harry watched it, it crashed rather neatly into the large tree. There was a slight pause, then the tree began to furiously crash its branches against the car. Harry watched curiously as it finally managed to escape, dodging backwards. Then the scene changed again, so quickly that he didn't realise it was changing until it was different. It was still night but the tree was waving angrily now. He could hear the faint sound of voices, even though he couldn't make out what they were saying. As he watched, he saw a great black dog bounding over the grounds, dragging a boy with him, a boy with red hair who was currently struggling furiously. But Harry was watching the dog, he knew that dog, he knew...

"Sirius?" he said aloud with a sense of wonder and for a brief second knowledge was in his brain: Sirius Black was his godfather, he'd been framed for murder and was currently on the run, he was an Animagi...

But who had framed him? And who was he supposed to have murdered? They were important questions, Harry knew they were important...

He frowned, screwing up his forehead which was aching again. He was so close to finding his memories...he knew that if he could just make his mind focus, he'd know everything that he needed to. He knew it...

Suddenly his cloud was gone and he was inside. He was standing in a cold, damp dungeon which was making him shiver. There was a class working steadily and a man with long greasy hair at the front. Harry frowned, trying to remember this man too. He was connected to Sirius in some way, Harry knew that much. He turned to look at the class and was shocked to see himself sitting at a desk with a red haired boy, the same red haired boy as had been in the other dream-vision. He spotted Draco a few desks away. Draco's face was twisted into a sneer and he leaned over and whispered something to the Harry at the desk. That Harry looked angry and the red haired boy scowled darkly with rage. A bushy haired girl reached out and touched his arm gently.

Red...re...ro...Ron!

"Ron!" Harry cried aloud but no one heard him. This was just a memory-vision-dream. But Harry knew. He knew.

"Ron!" he shouted again.

Then he jerked away, sitting bolt upright, hand still clutched around the rhodonite. His head was spinning furiously and he looked around with no clear memory of what was happening to him or where he was. Why was he here? Where were the Dursleys? What was going on?

The room was stuffy and the air cloying in his lungs. Harry staggered out of bed and over to the window, gulping in fresh air, trying to settle his panic. Perhaps there was no need for it, perhaps there was an explanation...

The swimming tumble of memories slowly settled and realisation slowly dawned. Harry stared at the pink stone in his hand, needing something to focus on.

The Malfoys had kidnapped him. He was in Malfoy Manor.

The Malfoys had lied to him. About who he was, what he was...Draco was pretending to be his boyfriend...they'd lied about everything. Draco. Cedric. Voldemort.

They had made him eat dinner with the murderer of his parents.

Harry ran into the adjoining bathroom and was violently sick. Collapsing by the toilet, he knelt there, shivering violently and trying to take in deep breaths. He felt betrayed, violated and disgusted, with himself or the Malfoys he couldn't quite tell. Voldemort...he'd called Voldemort my Lord. He'd kissed Draco Malfoy. They had lied to him about what had happened to Cedric, told him that he had killed him. How could they, how dare they?

"Master Harry?"

Squeak was standing at the doorway, holding a towel in her hands and looked anxious. Harry wondered if she'd heard him or if the spell on the rock had been so powerful that she'd known that it had affected him. Either way, he couldn't handle anyone else around at that minute.

"Go away," he ordered her, his voice shaking. "Go away, go away, go away."

Squeak stepped up and handed him the towel, her big eyes more anxious still.

"Does Master remember?" she asked, her voice timid.

Harry opened his mouth, then stopped before he could speak. Could he trust the house-elves? They kept their Masters secrets, not any random strangers. And they might like him and they might even want to help him but their loyalty was to Lucius Malfoy and his family.

And Harry was currently trapped in Malfoy Manor. With no definite way of escape or way out. He didn't know where he was, didn't know how he could contact anyone else. He was trapped there. His entire survival hinged on the Malfoys thinking that he didn't remember who he was and what he had done throughout his life.

"No," Harry said quietly. "No, I just had a nightmare. That's all."

Squeak looked disappointed. She nodded her head and then popped out of vision in that alarming way the house-elves had. Harry wiped his lips with the towel and hung it over a rack, walking slowly back to bed and crawling into the cold sheets.

What was he going to do? He couldn't tell anyone that he had his memory back. Voldemort was wandering around and the Malfoys would hand him over without a second thought anyway. Even Draco would tell his father immediately if Harry revealed something.

But could he really pretend? Could he let Draco kiss him, hug him without flinching away with disgust? Could he talk to Lucius and Narcissa without wanting to attack them for making him believe things that weren't the truth? How could he do this, how could he?

Harry gripped the rhodonite tightly and swallowed. He would pretend. He would have to. He'd pretend until he had a chance...until then, he didn't have a choice.

Besides...in a strange way, Harry was morbidly curious. He wanted to see what the Malfoys were like in their own home, wanted to see a family like that in action. He knew that that was twisted and stupid but the curiosity was simmering inside him, refusing to go away.

If Harry was going to be stuck here, he might as well make the most of it. And anything more that he could pin on the Malfoys...well, so much the better.

Harry tucked himself up into a protective ball, sent up a prayer to any God that might be listening, then tried to drop off.

* * * *

He was woken in the morning by Squeak, who explained that on normal days, Harry had to wake up at seven and go down for breakfast with Master Draco at half seven. Harry considered complaining about this - he was tired after a disturbed night and didn't like being ordered around - but decided it would be best to obey. He washed and dressed slowly, trying to think about his battle strategy. He had to try to act like he was still unfamiliar with what was going on, still had to pretend that he didn't know that this was all wrong. He didn't want to risk the Malfoys realising that he remembered everything.

Before going out, Harry took his broken wand out of the drawer, tucking it into his pocket. He wasn't sure how well a broken wand worked but he knew that it could do something. Hagrid often performed magic with his pink umbrella where his old broken wand was hidden. Obviously they didn't lose all their powers even when they were broken. It might offer Harry some sort of protection if the worst came to the worst and he had to try and fight.

He and Draco were eating alone again. Malfoy was being quiet, explaining it by saying that he'd had a bad night. Harry nodded like he agreed, but couldn't take his eyes off Malfoy throughout the meal. Why was Malfoy lying this way? How could he bring himself to? Harry tried to imagine being asked to lie to Malfoy in that way. The idea made him feel sick.

"What do you want to do today?" Malfoy asked, his voice sounding calm and polite. "I'd rather we didn't go outside again if that's all the same to you - it's been raining like anything and I really don't want to get all muddy."
Harry felt a flicker of the claustrophobia that Malfoy Manor cursed him with. Swallowing, he clenched his fists under the table and tried to think of something that he could suggest.

"We could go flying," he blurted.

Malfoy gave him an odd look and Harry put on his blandest expression.

"You mentioned Quidditch," he explained. "I'm guessing I have a broomstick? Or maybe I could borrow your father's. I...maybe flying would remind me of something."
He wondered if he sounded as stupid as he thought that he did. Malfoy did not seem to notice, although he was looking rather worried.

"Well...I don't know," he said slowly. "I'd have to ask Father...and what if you got a headache in mid-air? You might fall."
"I don't care, I want to try it," Harry said stubbornly. Realising this might sound odd, he changed his expression to what he hoped was a pleading one. "Come on Draco, please? We won't fly high - I just want to see if I remember it. Maybe it will help me...please?"

Malfoy's eyes softened.

"We'll ask Father," he said. "Finish up."

Harry finished quickly, trying to contain his eagerness. If he found out where the brooms were kept, maybe he could sneak down in the middle of the night and steal one. He didn't know where he was but he could fly much quicker than he could walk.

Lucius was in the drawing room, reading the Daily Prophet. Draco moved over and started talking to him quietly, gesturing for Harry to stay over by the door. Harry began to read the book titles on the nearest shelf, deciding after just a few that these had to be mostly Dark Arts stuff. He'd never seen things like them before. Some were written in different languages, some not even in the Western alphabet. Harry's hands itched for a look, even though he knew that it would be highly stupid to try touching any wizard book if he didn't know what it did. He kept looking at the spines, deciding that he was definitely going to ask Malfoy - no Draco, he had to remember to call him Draco - about these later.

"All right," he heard Lucius say with a sigh. "You can take him flying. But indoors Draco. Use the ballroom, you can play hide and seek among the pillars."

The idea made Harry grin slightly. At least he'd find out where the brooms were kept, even if they weren't flying around outside...

There was a shrill shrieking noise and in a blur of feathers, something heavy landed on his shoulder. Harry's head snapped round and he stared with glee at the snowy owl on his shoulder, clutching a letter in her beak.

"Hed - "

Lucius Malfoy moved forward in three quick strides. His hand shot out and there was a loud snap.

Harry screamed.

End of Part 3.