The Cloak of Shadows

A certain young man, arms and legs tanned from exposure to the summer sun, sat curled up in his bed, his black hair falling askew over his forehead. Chin propped on his knees, green eyes wide through wire spectacles, he appeared thoughtful, almost serene. Anybody looking carefully would see that he was anything but. Anybody looking carefully would notice the piece of parchment lying next to him on the bed. To be honest, the boy's insides were churning as if someone had just inflicted the languefacio curse on him. He wondered vaguely if he should just go into the bathroom and retch, and have it over and done with. Another wave of nausea hit him, and he was afraid he would beat himself to it. Glancing warily at the parchment, as though it might come alive and bite him, he picked it up and read to himself for what seemed like the hundredth time that night:

Dear Mr. Potter,

I regret to inform you that due to unforeseen circumstances, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will not be resuming classes as intended in the Fall. We do, however, require that you be here to attend a very important meeting on 1 September. Take the Hogwarts Express as usual, but do not stop in Diagon Alley. Hagrid will be awaiting you and your traveling companions at the school. Bring only what is necessary - we will provide the rest. Bring Hedwig - I'm arranging to have her sent to the Burrow for safekeeping once you arrive. Do not reply to this owl, as I cannot be sure who might intercept it.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster

Harry ran his hand over the paper, hoping to somehow glean more clues from the carefully worded script. Most of it was obvious enough. Ever since Harry began his education at Hogwarts, he had been preparing for his final showdown with Lord Voldemort. From the letter, it was clear that the time had come. Harry was needed at Hogwarts, no longer as a student, but as a protector, a fighter.

But no classes? Hermione will have a fit, he thought with a small smile. Surely Dumbledore must know by canceling school for the whole year, he would cause an absolute uproar. It must be bad. Very bad, to warrant the school shutting down. But that was the obvious part of the letter. There were other mysteries he had yet to uncover. For one thing, why on earth couldn't he stop in Diagon Alley? True, he wouldn't be needing schoolbooks, but he had hoped to run a few errands - he needed oil for his broom, and having grown a considerable amount over the summer, he was in desperate need of some new robes. He sighed, chastising himself for being so vain. Who cared if his robes were an inch or two off the ground during the final battle? Shaking his head, he returned to his previous thoughts. Who exactly were his traveling companions? Other students? Perhaps important wizards Dumbledore was calling together? And the last question: why did Hedwig need to be sent off to the Burrow for safekeeping?

Frowning, Harry pushed his glasses up and rubbed the bridge of his nose, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, plagued with a thousand emotions, not the least of which was icy cold fear, forming a pit in his stomach. He knew the situation had been building to a climax, particularly since fourth year, but he expected to finish his schooling first, graduate, become an Auror, do something with his life, before it all hit the fan. He suddenly realized how very young he was. Young and scared. Barely seventeen, and expected by the entire wizarding world to defeat the darkest power in history. Sighing, Harry drew his knees up even closer to his chest, and feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, he fell into a restless and feverish sleep.

***

King's Cross Station was humming with life, and Muggles of all shapes and sizes bustled about Harry, jostling him with elbows, over-large parcels, and the occasional screaming child. The end of August had been excruciatingly hot, and it looked as though the first of September would bring no relief. Harry wiped the perspiration off his forehead and glanced around him surreptitiously, making sure no one was watching him as he approached the brick wall between platforms nine and ten. Casually, he placed a hand against the cool brick and felt a whoosh of air as it passed through to the other side. He leaned into the wall, pulling his cart with him, and in less than a second he found himself standing on familiar ground: Platform 93/4.

Harry felt a lump form in his throat as he looked around the nearly empty platform. There were no students, luggage carts, or parents in sight, and the Hogwarts Express somehow looked smaller and older. It seemed almost forlorn, sitting there as if waiting for its children to return. Harry took a breath and walked towards the train, his shoes echoing as they scuffed the pavement. The silence was deafening, and most certainly depressing, and Harry felt his already dark mood decline as he approached the door.

The conductor, wearing black and scarlet robes with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on the front, motioned for Harry to leave his belongings and step into the train. Harry glanced up at him as he passed and noticed a sympathetic look in the older wizard's eye.

"I believe Mr. Potter will prefer to sit in the second car on the right, if I'm not mistaken," the man said, a small smile tugging at his lips, lifting a few of the weary lines around his eyes. Harry gave him a quizzical look, but the conductor only nodded slightly and walked off to load Harry's luggage.

Entering the train, Harry walked to the second car on the right and paused a moment with his hand resting on the door. Was someone inside? If so, who would it be? Harry felt slightly nervous, but told himself he was being silly. But at the same time, whoever happened to be in this car would most likely be someone that would fight by his side against Voldemort - a very strong and brave ally. Well, he said to himself, it will do no good to stand out here like a dope wondering who's on the other side of that door. I may as well just go in and see who else Dumbledore has called. With a barely perceptible tremble in his hand, Harry lifted the handle and walked into the compartment.

"Harry?" said a familiar voice. The raven-haired boy felt a surge of pure relief and happiness wash through him as he stared at the figure seated in front of him.

"Hermione!" he cried, nearly smothering the curly brunette in his excitement. "Oh thank Merlin you're here! I was so afraid I would be all alone, or that it would be just me and the professors, but now you're here and, oh, everything's better, and I wonder exactly why Dumbledore is calling us all back to Hogwarts, and why has he canceled school, and where on earth is Ron?!" Harry stopped and sucked in a breath, catching the amused twinkle in Hermione's eye.

"Are you quite finished Harry?" she asked, trying to suppress a grin.

"Quite. I think. Sorry," he finished, giving her an apologetic smile. This time she couldn't resist the irrepressible young man, and gave him a genuine smile of her own in return. Harry relaxed in his seat a bit, thinking things couldn't be too awful, as long as Hermione was there with him. "Anyway, back to all my questions - do you happen to have any answers?" Harry knew that if anyone was informed on what was happening, it would be Hermione.

"Unfortunately Harry, I'm as in the dark as you are on this. I'm assuming we both received the same letter explaining to us that school was canceled this year, but that we were needed at Hogwarts for a special meeting, and -"

"And we aren't allowed to go near Diagon Alley," Harry interjected.

"Yes," Hermione replied, her brow furrowing. "That puzzles me still. I'm sure there's a good reason for it, but it's strange nonetheless. But back to what I was saying - the one piece of information I have that you seem not to know is where Ron comes into this whole plot."

"You've heard from Ron?" Harry exclaimed, his feelings slightly hurt. He hadn't received even a letter from his best friend since his birthday.

"Not exactly," Hermione said, her cheeks flushing faintly. "Professor Dumbledore included a postscript in my letter, informing me that Ron was needed at the Burrow this year for some sort of important job, but that he would be present at the meeting."

Harry's jaw dropped. "Dumbledore told you all of this? But why on earth didn't he -" He stopped short when he saw Hermione's face. She was positively scarlet, from the roots of her hair down to her throat. Her eyes seemed a bit misty, and there was a look in them Harry had never seen before. Hermione stammered unintelligible excuses for a moment before finally giving up, screwing up her face and shutting her eyes tightly. Harry grinned broadly. "Why Hermione, I've never seen you so... articulate before," he said, his amusement evident in his voice.

Hermione opened one eye cautiously, saw the look on Harry's face, and promptly buried her face in her hands, wishing she could disappear into the cushions of the seat. Suddenly, she heard the light baritone of Harry's laugh, and timidly looked out from between her fingers. Harry's green eyes were positively alight with mirth and good humour.

"Well," he said, in between fits of laughter, "I suppose Dumbledore is always a step ahead of everyone else, isn't he?" He heard Hermione mumble something akin to "a step ahead of a certain red-headed Weasley" into her hands, and he burst out laughing again. Hermione peered at him, torn between giggling like an infatuated schoolgirl, crying from embarrassment, or screaming out of sheer frustration, and finally settled for giggling. After a moment, the two adolescents settled into companionable silence, each one smiling softly, each focusing on the lightheartedness of this moment, trying to keep their gnawing fears of impending doom at bay.

***

A short amount of time later, Harry felt himself jarred awake out of a brief doze. Someone was pounding at the door of their compartment and calling out, his timid voice unmistakable. "Erm... hello? Hello, is anyone in there? I'm in a bit of a spot... I could use some help. Hello?"

Harry looked at Hermione incredulously. "Neville?" he mouthed to her. She shrugged in confusion and went to open the door. The sight that greeted them was pathetic, to say the least. And it was, most assuredly, Neville Longbottom. The boy was standing stiffly in the doorway of the compartment, swaying slightly as though to balance himself. He stared at the two young people in front of him in astonishment, and for a moment forgot his predicament. "Harry! Hermione! Gosh, it's good to see the two of you!" Neville moved to hug them, and it was then that the full extent of his situation was revealed. Someone had put the boy under a body binding spell, causing his arms and legs to stay glued together magically. Neville, not being the most coordinated of people under normal circumstances, was much less so under the effects of the spell, and the sudden movement caused him to lose his balance entirely and fall to the floor in a heap of stiff, unmoving limbs.

Hermione rushed to his side and managed to pull him up onto a seat. "Neville!" she exclaimed. "Who on earth did this to you?" Pulling out her wand, she muttered finite incantatum, and Neville's limbs suddenly flew apart, nearly hitting her square in the nose.

"Oh thanks Hermione! I was beginning to think I'd have to spend the rest of the trip like that! I don't know who did it. I fell asleep before we even left, and when I woke up just a bit ago, I found myself like this. I hopped over to your compartment and knocked on the door with my head."

Hermione "tsk-ed" as she turned Neville's chin back and forth, examining the red splotch near his right temple. Touching her wand to his forehead and muttering a mild healing spell, Hermione got rid of most of the pain, and the redness disappeared entirely.

"Gosh Hermione, thanks," Neville said again. "It's really great to see you. And you too Harry!"

"Good to see you as well Neville," said the boy, trying his best to hold back a grin. Neville would never change. Harry took a strange comfort in that, knowing that no matter how bad things got, Neville would always be the same clueless, loveable klutz Harry had known since he was eleven years old.

"Well that answers one question," said Hermione, always thinking.

"What's that?" Harry asked. Neville was looking at her questioningly as well.

"It means that we aren't the only ones on the train. And seeing as how I don't believe an adult, least of all a professor, would attack you Neville with a body binding charm, I think we can safely assume whoever else is on here is a student."

"Brilliant deduction Hermione," Harry said, giving her a smile. "But who do you think it is?"

"I haven't a clue," she responded. "Perhaps we should go look."

"There'll be no need for that, Granger," came a smooth voice from just outside the doorway.

Harry felt a chill run through his spine at the sound of the voice. It couldn't be. Could it? What on earth was Dumbledore thinking, inviting - "Malfoy?" Harry said, not even bothering to contain his shock. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you Potter. Oh wait, no I couldn't. It's obvious, isn't it? The Messiah returning home to set his people free." The blonde-haired boy scowled at the inhabitants of the car, his voice dripping sarcasm.

"Oh, and I suppose you've had a sudden change of heart and have come to fight by my side. Is that it, Malfoy? Or are you just running scared? Come to seek redemption from Dumbledore have you? Pissed off the Dark Lord and hoping to find sanctuary at Hogwarts?"

An imperceptible look passed over the boy's face but was instantly replaced by his usual grimace. "Let's get one thing straight, shall we Potter?" the Slytherin said through clenched teeth. "I will never, never fight beside you. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Malfoy. I wouldn't have it any other way."

Draco allowed his gaze to slide over the other two people in the car. "I see Dumbledore's allowed you to bring your little groupies Potter. Mudbloods and Squibs: that will win us the war for sure."

Harry was too shocked to speak. He felt anger rise in him at hearing his friends called those uncivilized names, but there was an underlying surprise too. Had Malfoy said "win us the war"?? What in the world did he mean by that? He couldn't really be fighting on their side could he? But then, why else would Dumbledore have called him?

"You know Malfoy, your insults aren't nearly as convincing without your two dimwitted cronies," said Hermione fiercely. "I thought you Slytherins traveled in packs."

"If you must know, Granger, Crabbe and Goyle, my dimwitted cronies, as you so eloquently put it, are in the next car, asleep." Harry could have sworn he heard Malfoy mutter something like "useless lumps," under his breath, but he couldn't be sure.

"Thank Merlin for that," Hermione said, and Malfoy shot her a glare. "I assume it was one of you who put the body bind curse on Neville?"

Malfoy grinned slightly at that, looking proud. Malfoy grinned? Harry thought. No, it couldn't be. "That was Goyle's handiwork, if you must know," he said, with that same strange look on his face. It was no longer his trademark smirk, but a real smile just looked so foreign on him. He actually looks handsome, Harry thought. And then, Oh god, did I really just think that? Ew, what is wrong with me?

"Well it wasn't very amusing to the rest of us," Hermione said, thankfully taking Harry away from his disturbing thoughts.

"Mmm, yes, well I'll try to keep that in mind next time Granger. My life's goal has always been to keep you amused." Strangely, his voice seemed free of its typical malice. He seemed to almost be teasing Hermione, like a friend would. It was too odd for Harry to even consider. "Well, I'll see you all at the school," Malfoy said, turning to go. Just as he reached the door, he stopped and turned back around. "Sorry about that curse, Longbottom." Throwing a smile at Neville, he turned and glared at Harry before exiting the car.

The three of them were speechless. They stared after Malfoy for several minutes before turning to give each other puzzled looks. "Will wonders never cease?" muttered Hermione finally.

"What do you mean?" asked Neville.

"Well, it's obvious Malfoy's chosen to fight for the Light Side instead of serving Voldemort isn't it?"

"Um, I don't think that's very obvious Hermione," Harry said, still confused about the exchange that had just taken place.

"Well, why else would Dumbledore want him at Hogwarts with all of us?" It was a good question, one Harry had asked himself only moments before.

"I don't know, Herm, and I'm not sure I care enough to waste my time trying to figure it out." This was a lie, and Hermione knew it. She could see that Harry was puzzling over it in his head, but she could also see he didn't want to discuss it.

"Well, at least things will never get boring," she said, attempting to lighten the mood. Both boys just sat there silently. Finally, Neville cleared his throat.

"Did he really just apologize to me?"

Hermione laughed. "I wouldn't worry about it too much Neville. After all, it is Malfoy we're talking about."

Yes, thought Harry. It is Malfoy. And Malfoy's are notoriously bad. They can't just suddenly become good. Can they? Harry shook his head. He was getting a headache just thinking about it. Dumbledore would explain everything once they arrived at HogwartsAnd I have quite a few questions for him to answer. Sighing, Harry glanced at Neville and Hermione and decided they could all use some cheering up before they reached Hogwarts"Anyone up for a game of exploding snap?"

***

Exactly one hour and three games of exploding snap later, the Hogwarts Express rolled into the station. Harry felt the tension in his belly tighten as he prepared to step off the train. None of them had any idea what this meeting would hold for them, even less of an idea of what the future would bring. It was a scary thought, and one which Harry wished desperately he didn't have to entertain. But he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and this was his destiny. He had to fulfill it, or else risk the lives of Merlin knows how many innocent people. Ugh Potter, he thought to himself. You are getting entirely too dramatic.

He didn't have any more time for thinking however, for when he stepped off the train he was suddenly crushed against a mass of particularly pungent fur. He felt as though his intestines were being squeezed out of him, and was vaguely aware of a scratchy, wet tongue lapping against his face. "Arrgh! Get off Fang!" he said, laughing. He pushed the beast of a dog away and tried to straighten his robes. This was pointless however, as Hagrid had made his way over to the boy and enveloped him in yet another crushing embrace.

"Harry m'boy! It's good ter see ya! I've been right worried about ya, I have." The half-giant peered into the boy's face and gave him another hug, pressing Harry into the folds of his cloak.

"Erm, Hagrid? Hagrid... I... I'm smothering," Harry muttered against the over-zealous man. After a moment, Hagrid released him.

"Sorry 'bout that Harry," he said with an apologetic grin. "But we've all missed ya here."

"Thanks Hagrid. But I'd like to live to make it inside the school." The man blushed and muttered another apology, but abruptly broke off to sweep Hermione into the same suffocating hug.

"'Ermione! Ye've grown into a beautiful young woman!" Hermione's cheeks colored at this, whether from embarrassment, or from struggling out of Hagrid's embrace, Harry didn't know. Neville stepped off the train next, and having seen the spectacle Hagrid put on with Harry Hermione, hung back, as though afraid the man would attack him as well.

"Neville, good ter see ya!" Hagrid said, slapping the boy on the back. He meant it as a friend pat, but it nearly knocked Neville to the ground. Hermione caught his arm and steadied him, casting an amused glance in Harry's direction.

Next came Malfoy and his two henchmen, looks of superiority plastered all over their faces.

"Crabbe, Goyle... Malfoy," Hagrid said with a nod. It was a less-than-warm welcome, although Harry noticed that Hagrid wasn't surprised to see the three Slytherins there. Obviously, Dumbledore had briefed the giant on what was going on. Crabbe and Goyle ignored Hagrid, while Malfoy regarded him with mild disgust mingled with fear. It had never struck Harry until then that Malfoy had never really hated Hagrid, he had simply been afraid of him. Harry didn't stop to wonder why, he only felt angry at Malfoy for being so bloody closed-minded.

"A'right everyone. Into the carriage and we'll head on up t'the castle," Hagrid said, motioning them into the horseless carriage. The seven of them piled in, with Fang leaping in after, much to Malfoy's disgust, and they began the ascent up the hill to Hogwarts

Harry gazed out the window, contemplating what would be revealed once they were all in the presence of Dumbledore. Truth be known, he was a nervous wreck, but he knew it was his duty as The Boy Who Lived, and like it or not, he had to face up to his worst fears. Glancing over at Malfoy, he noted that the blonde boy looked nervous as well, though he hid it much better than Harry did. His gray eyes were clouded and his mouth tight, but Harry knew that underneath it all, Malfoy was struggling with some demons of his own. How he knew this he wasn't sure, but he felt that he had some serious questions that had to be answered, and soon. What are we all doing here Dumbledore? Why the six of us? And how does Malfoy play into all of this? Harry would have his answer soon enough, and little did he know, it would be more shocking than anything he could have imagined.