The Cloak of Shadows

The next day, Harry sat in the DADA classroom, effortlessly taking the lives of one spider after another. Sirius stood in front of him, sweeping dead spiders off the desk onto the floor.

"Another," Harry growled, raising his wand in expectation.

"Um, Harry," Sirius began, giving him a concerned look, "I think perhaps that's enough for today. You've improved tremendously, but I think -"

"This is something I have to know how to do, isn't it?" Harry asked. There was a challenge in his voice, as though he dared Sirius to stop him. "I'll have to get really good at killing spiders before I can use it on people, right?"

"God, Harry," Sirius said, shaken by his godson's flippancy toward the matter. Though he would never have admitted it, he had shuddered when Harry uttered the words Avada Kedavra for the first time that morning. There was suddenly a ruthlessness about Harry that worried Sirius.

"Look, I know we're at war and all, but let's just hope you'll never be required to use -"

"Oh, get real, Sirius," Harry snapped angrily. "Voldemort and I aren't going to challenge one another to a knitting duel. When I have to face off against him, I want to kill the son of a bitch."

"Harry!" Sirius admonished, though he wasn't quite sure whether it was for the swearing, or the bitter sarcasm in Harry's voice. Whatever it was, it rather disturbed Sirius.

"You shouldn't say things -"

"Don't get parental on me now," Harry snarled. His godfather stopped speaking, stunned, but it seemed Harry was only warming up.

"Don't try to be my father now, Sirius," Harry said bitterly. "That ship sailed a long time ago, and you missed it. Where were you when Cedric died? Huh? Where were you when I thought I'd lost my best friend?"

"Harry, I -"

"You weren't there, Sirius! My father wasn't there, and neither were you." Sirius's dark eyes clouded with hurt, and his hand gripped the chair in front of him so tightly his knuckles went white.

"Harry, I don't understand..."

"And what about fifth year?" Harry went on, ignoring Sirius completely. "I needed you then, more than ever, and where were you? Holed up in your bloody house, counting the tiles on the ceiling!"

"Harry, that wasn't my fault," Sirius said quietly. Harry paused for a moment, thinking that sounded uncannily similar to something he had said the day before. But Harry wasn't quite finished.

"YOU DIED," he roared, causing Sirius to take a startled step backward.

"Harry -"

"EVERYONE I CARE ABOUT LEAVES!"

"But I'm back, Harry," Sirius said softly, reaching a hand out toward the boy. "I'm here now."

Harry flinched away. "No. You won't stay. You'll leave again too."

Sirius Black had never been a sentimental man. The long years in Azkaban had numbed most of his emotions, but he still held a soft spot for his godson. There were only two people in the world who had ever made Sirius cry. Remus was the second. Sirius looked now at the first, and his heart ached for the boy. He reached out and grabbed Harry's shoulders, pulling him nearer.

"Listen, Harry," he said, his voice oddly gruff. "I'm here now. I'm not planning on going anywhere. I can't promise you I'll live forever, but -"

Harry laughed, cold and humorless. "Don't make me any promises, Sirius. I'm sick of people who can't keep their fucking promises." Harry wrenched himself out of his godfather's grip and stalked out the door, stomping on a dead spider as he passed.

***

Harry lay in his bed, some hours later, trying unsuccessfully to pretend his lesson with Sirius had never happened. As soon as he reached the quiet of his room, all his anger had dissipated, leaving him worn out and exhausted. His stomach was in knots, however, and he was finding sleep elusive. Sighing and sitting up, Harry ran a hand through his tousled locks.

Merlin, I can't believe I said those things to Sirius, he thought, his stomach tightening even more. It didn't even have anything to do with him.

"He must hate me," Harry said aloud, rubbing the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. There was a soft rap at the door.

"Come in," Harry said, without thinking. He groaned inwardly. The last thing he wanted to do right now was talk to anyone, but it was too late, as whoever was on the other side of the door was now entering his room

A large, familiar head with bat-like ears and too-large eyes peeked in.

"Dobby?" Harry said, astonished to see the elf in his room. "What are you doing here? I thought Dumbledore sent you to Dublin with the Finnigan's until the war's over?"

"Dobby did move, sir," squeaked the tiny elf. Harry looked at it, puzzled. "Dobby is being Dinkly's father, sir."

Harry's eyes widened. "You're Dobby's - er - child?" It was impossible to tell whether the little creature was a son or a daughter. "I didn't know Dobby had a -"

"Dinkly is only being a year old, sir," the elf said proudly. "Dinkly is the youngest elf in the kitchens. And," the elf continued conspiratorially, "Dinkly is getting paid for her work."

"Er, good for you," Harry said, a bit confused as to the elf's presence. "Erm... Isn't Dobby worried about you?" Harry finally asked. "I mean, with the war going on and all. I should imagine he'd like to have you close." A dark look passed over Dinkly's face.

"Harry Potter must not bring up such subjects with Dinkly, sir," she whispered, her lower lip trembling. At least, Harry thought it was. "Dinkly is not liking to talk about that, Harry Potter."

"Er, right. Sorry." Harry stared at the elf, wondering what else to say, and Dinkly stared back. "Is there something you need, Dinkly?" Harry prompted, wishing she would be about her business and leave him to sulk in peace.

"Oh, yes sir!" cried the elf. "Dinkly is sent by the headmaster to ask Harry Potter to come to his office for a very important meeting."

Great, Harry thought. He was sure Sirius had gone straight to Dumbledore, and now the headmaster wanted to see him about his behavior. Serves me right, he thought morosely. I'm being a complete arse.

"Well, thanks Dinkly," he said, climbing out of his bed.

"Harry Potter is most welcome," Dinkly said. "And," she added, something resembling a blush creeping into her cheeks, "some of Dinkly's friends is liking to call her 'Dink' sir."

"Er, right. Well, that's great Dinkl - I mean, Dink."

The elf's enormous brown eyes filled, and Harry was terrified she would start crying. Instead, she let out a tiny squeak of pleasure and ran from the room.

Harry grabbed his wand and threw on his robes, stepping out into the common room. It was deserted, as was the other boys' room.

When Harry arrived at the headmaster's office, he was surprised to find that all the professors, Hermione, Ron, Neville, Crabbe and Goyle, and Charlie Weasley were seated around Dumbledore's desk. Draco was there too, seated away from the others, a determined look on his face. Remus was watching him with a strange look, and Harry wondered what was going on. However, he was stubbornly determined to ignore Draco, and so he took the furthest seat from him, staring resolutely at the floor. Remus shifted his gaze to lay the same worried look on Harry, but he said nothing.

Finally, Dumbledore cleared his throat and stood, smiling at the group. Harry noticed he seemed a bit shaky.

"Well, now that Harry's here, we can proceed. Mr. Malfoy, would you care to fill him in on what he's missed?"

Startled grey eyes shot up to meet the headmaster's, as did a pair of emerald green. Dumbledore smiled benignly, and Draco knew he had no choice but to comply.

Draco began speaking tersely, and Harry did everything in his power to tune him out, to forget that that same voice had cried out his name only two nights before. Returning his focus to the floor, Harry caught only bits and pieces of Draco's diatribe.

"- leaving tonight."

This pattern is really quite interesting, Harry thought to himself.

"Charlie and Neville... distraction -"

Quite interesting, indeed.

"- as a trade for Bill -"

Every fifth tile repeats...

"After the rescue -"

... but only in that grey color...

"- after I leave with my father -"

WHAT?!?

Harry's head shot up and everyone stared at him. He realized after a moment that he had spoken aloud.

Draco stopped, surprised, for a moment, but he quickly recovered, throwing Harry a contemptuous glare. Before he could continue, Remus took the opportunity to jump in.

"Albus, do you really think this is the wisest move? We're putting Draco's life at stake here."

"I told you," Draco said through clenched teeth, "that I want to do this."

"Yes, Draco, I know," Remus said gently. "But you might be walking right into a trap."

"I'm going, and that's final."

"Albus?" Remus said pleadingly.

Harry had been watching the exchange with a stricken face. Draco was giving himself up to his father in exchange for Bill Weasley? But why?

All eyes had turned toward the headmaster expectantly. Harry in particular looked as though he had a stake in the decision, Dumbledore noted. Sighing, the headmaster glanced at Harry, willing him to understand.

"I'm sorry, but Draco has made his choice. Mr. Malfoy is showing incredible bravery and unselfishness in making this sacrifice, and we all should show him our utmost respect and support. He's going to need it."

Harry scowled and Draco smirked, victorious.

"Well then," Dumbledore said, clapping his hands together. "Now that's settled, let's move on to the next order of business. Hermione, while the rescue party is away, I have some very important research I need you to conduct." Hermione beamed, looking as though she were itching to get down to the library and begin immediately.

"I have," Dumbledore continued, "a piece of parchment, procured for me by one of our spies." Harry turned to glance at Snape, who was sitting unobtrusively in the back of the office. He was frowning, as usual, but his eyes looked far away and tired. Harry wondered if he had been the spy who had stolen the parchment for Dumbledore.

"The writing is unclear and much of the ink has run, but we were able to make out one word."

The group waited breathlessly for Dumbledore to reveal what the word was.

"Angui," he said, and everyone stared blankly, uncomprehending. After a moment, Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"Professor," she said, sounding confused. "I'm not sure I know exactly what that means."

"Well, Hermione, I'm afraid neither do I. As best I can surmise, angui is a derivative of a word that means -"

"Snake," a voice interrupted. Harry's head whipped around involuntarily, pinpointing the source of the comment. It was Draco.

"It's anguis," he continued. "Anguis, serpensa, vipera and draconis. They're all Latin for 'snake.'"

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," said Dumbledore, sounding impressed. "Now, we just have to figure out what context it's being used in. Which is where you come in, Ms. Granger. I'm afraid the rest of the word is blotted out, save for the last letters - 'ae.' I trust you'll be able to come up with a satisfactory explanation."

"Of course, Professor," Hermione said, nodding firmly.

"Good. Harry, you will be assisting Ms. Granger in her research tonight."

"What?" Harry said, nearly jumping out of his seat. "I'm staying here? Why? Why aren't I going on the rescue mission?"

"Well, Harry, we've discussed it, and we all think you're better off remaining at the castle. Besides, Hermione will need you to -"

"That's rubbish," Harry said scathingly. "You're trying to keep me pent up here, the way you did with Sirius." Harry's voice rose, and he knew he was getting dangerously close to losing his temper again. "And we all know how that turned out."

"Harry!" chided Remus, giving him a disapproving look. Harry ignored him.

"I think I've proven," he said through gritted teeth, "that I can handle both Voldemort and the Death Eaters."

"I've no doubt about that, Harry," said Dumbledore. "In fact, that's precisely why I'm keeping you 'pent up' here. Tonight's mission is highly dangerous, but it is not the most important battle we will have to fight. I will not have you suffering an injury, however minor, that would impede you from fighting when we need you most."

Harry considered protesting this annoyingly logical explanation, but just as he opened his mouth to do so, the door exploded inward, and Nymphadora Tonks, pink hair sticking up wildly, tumbled in, tripping over several rugs, chairs, and her own two feet in the process.

"Now," she panted, leaning heavily on the back of Remus's chair. "Gringott's... We have to get there... now! It's Bill -"

"Is he -" Charlie and Ron began, fearing the worst.

"No," Tonks replied, her breathing slowing a bit. "But they're threatening. The Death Eaters are getting restless. We've got to get over there, quickly."

Dumbledore nodded, and the office erupted into a flurry of motion. Tonks paused as she passed by Harry's chair. "Good to see you again, Harry," she said quietly, ruffling his hair. "Behave yourself." Harry jerked away from her, mumbling under his breath what he thought of that piece of advice.

Remus placed a hand on Sirius's arm. "You'll meet us there then? At the given time?" His voice was rushed and business-like, but his eyes were worried. Sirius grinned, giving Remus a playful peck on the cheek.

"Yes, dear. Wouldn't miss it for the world." Remus rolled his eyes and brushed Sirius off, but when he turned, Harry could see he was smiling slightly.

Snape followed behind Draco, who didn't even bother to glance in Harry's direction. Snape, however, paused until Draco was out the door. He then leaned down until his mouth was disturbingly near Harry's ear.

"I pride myself on never becoming involved in the sordid private lives of my students," he hissed.

Harry grimaced up at him. "Thank Merlin for that," he muttered.

"However, I feel obligated, for reasons even I cannot comprehend, to tell you that Draco came to me last night."

"Came to you for what?" Harry snapped, wishing Snape would get to the point and get out of his personal space.

"Draco seems to think it necessary to keep his father's intentions from you. I, on the other hand, disagree."

"His father's intentions to do what?"

"Shut up and listen, boy! Lucius knows." Before Harry could ask, he continued. "About you and Draco. Voldemort knows too. Now, I'd rather not know what your relationship," he sneered disgustedly, "with Draco is, but I know that whatever he's done, it's been to protect you. Just keep that in mind. Oh, and Potter? If you intend to hurt my godson, there will be severe consequences."

"Your what?"

Snape didn't reply. He instead gave Harry a menacing look and swept out of the room. The only remaining occupants of the office were Harry, Hermione, Sirius, and Dumbledore, who was shuffling through a stack of papers, talking to himself . Harry, feeling as he had way too much information to process, stood shakily and advanced toward the desk.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore replied, glancing up from his papers. "Ah, of course. You'll be needing this." He thrust the fragment of parchment into Harry's hand and smiled.

"Ah, that's great and all, but sir, I really think that I ought to be going out with the rescue group."

Dumbledore frowned and gave Harry a hard look. "I thought we already discussed this. A decision has been reached."

So much for the calm, respectful approach.

"Sir, I know you don't understand, but I have to go tonight. It's very important that I -"

"Frankly, Mr. Potter, I can't see that there is anything you have to do, besides what I tell you." Harry blinked, stunned at Dumbledore's harsh tone. He sounded more like Snape than the kind old man Harry had grown to love.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I don't think you are in any position to tell me -"

"That's enough, Harry! My decision stands."

"But it isn't fair! If Draco is mature enough to throw himself to the Death Eaters, then I'm damn well mature enough to go save him!" Dumbledore looked at him shrewdly.

"So this is about Mr. Malfoy."

"It isn't... it's about..." Harry trailed off weakly, not knowing what to say. He had felt a niggling fear creeping into his head, ever since Snape had revealed that Draco was faking his animosity. It was now bordering on hysteria. Harry felt or thought nothing but the urge to run to Draco, to save him from his father.

"Harry," Dumbledore said, his expression softening. "I understand. I truly do. But we can't have -"

"No, you don't! None of you understand! You pretend to want only what's best for me, but you're really just being selfish. You can't keep me locked up like some secret weapon until the final battle. I'm not some pawn you can just move around at your whim!"

Dumbledore, his lined face sagging under some terrible weight, rose from the desk and began walking toward the window.

"Do not turn your back to me, Albus Dumbledore!"

Dumbledore stopped cold, and turned around slowly. Harry had never seen such an icy, flat look on the man's face. It frightened Harry.

"Though I realize," he said in a low voice, "that these times are exceptional, you are still, for all intents and purposes, a student of Hogwarts. As such, you will address me with the utmost dignity and respect. Is that understood?"

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Crystal clear, sir," he said, before turning and stalking out of the room. "See you in the library," he muttered at Hermione as he slammed the door. Hermione and Sirius gave one another wary looks, and Dumbledore collapsed into his chair.

"Albus!" Sirius yelled, as he went to assist the headmaster. Dumbledore waved him off, attempting a feeble smile.

"It is nothing, Sirius. I'm an old man, and stress no longer agrees with me."

"Should I fetch Madame Pomfrey?" Hermione said worriedly.

"No, no. Don't trouble yourself dear. With a bit of rest, I'll be good as new. Now, I have the feeling there is something going on with young Harry. As I am regretfully behind in what's going on in his life, could one of you kindly fill me in? I haven't seen him like this since fifth year."

"Honestly, sir, I don't really know what's going on myself," Sirius said, sounding pained. "Harry doesn't talk with me as much as he used to. I know he confides in Remus every now and then, but it's almost as if he's trying to shut us out of his life."

"Has there been a particular time you've noticed this change?"

"Yes, I suppose. I first started noticing it when we began working on his Patronus. He became upset after one session with the boggart, and never wanted to try it again. Since then, he's taken very quickly to the Unforgiveables. He's killed more spiders than Voldemort's killed Muggles."

"That's odd about the boggarts," Hermione said. "I noticed the last time I was in his room that he's reading a book on them. It was the day we talked about..."

"About what, Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore inquired politely.

"Well, I'm not sure Harry would really appreciate me discussing it, but under the circumstances... I went to ask Harry about his relationship with Malfoy."

"And what do you suppose their relationship to be?" asked Dumbledore.

"Friends, of course. I think Harry's embarrassed to tell anyone about it, because they've hated each other for so long. But did you see him when Draco returned from the Manor? He was a wreck. And tonight... Yes, yes I'm sure they're quite close."

"But what would that have to do with the boggart?" Sirius wondered aloud.

"Perhaps more than we think," Dumbledore replied. "In any case, I want both of you to keep an eye on Harry. And Draco too, for that matter. It would seem they have formed an unlikely bond, and we must do what we can to ensure it is not broken."

"So, you think I'm right about them being friends?" Hermione asked, pleased with herself.

"Oh, yes, Hermione. I suspect they have become great friends, though I fear their relationship is a bit on the rocks at the moment. That would certainly explain their odd behavior." Hermione and Sirius nodded in agreement. "Well then, the both of you have more important matters than this to be attending to. Sirius, please attempt to behave responsibly tonight. And Ms. Granger, I shall expect a full report by morning." The both of them nodded, and headed for the door.

"Albus?" Sirius said, pausing at the door. "Do you suppose it's alright for the two of them to be together? I mean, they both have, er, strange temperaments. Do you think maybe they're better off apart?"

"Please, Sirius," Hermione said dryly, before Dumbledore could reply. "Harry's a wanted felon in the spider community, and Malfoy's volunteering for suicide missions. I think it's safe to say they're better off together."

***

Draco crouched behind a large pillar, listening to the tense conversation occurring in the main hall of Gringotts. He wriggled his hands, trying to loosen the magical rope that bound his wrists.

Damn enchanted stuff chafes like the dickens, he thought grumpily. He wanted nothing more than to get this mission over with so he could get back to the castle, and the safety and comfort of his own bed.

Why? So you can go on pretending to hate Harry's guts? asked an irritating voice inside his head.

It's his own fault, Draco thought back. If he wasn't such a bloody Gryffindor, always trying to befriend me, and then acting so sensitive and soppy and... and...

Handsome, attractive, beautiful? supplied the voice.

Shut up.

The voices in the hall moved closer. Draco could hear Remus Lupin negotiating with his father.

"We have a trade. One we think you'll be very interested in." A pair of hands grabbed Draco roughly from behind and hoisted him to his feet.

Oh, bloody hell, he thought. Here we go.

***

Harry paced the library like a caged tiger. Occasionally he even let out a low growl, at one point nearly giving a poor house elf a heart attack. His anger was beginning to dissipate, and he struggled to hang on it. He had a gnawing feeling that if the anger went away, he would have a whole mess of sticky emotions he wasn't ready to deal with.

So he thought of Dumbledore, refusing to allow him to go to Draco's rescue. Stubborn old bugger, he thought, and immediately regretted it. Everything Dumbledore had said made perfect sense, and Harry couldn't deny it, no matter how hard he tried. One more thing to apologize for.

As that train of thought was getting him nowhere, he moved on to Draco, and his insistence on treating Harry like dirt in order to protect him. Stupid prat. This helped Harry stay angry for a few moments, but it was quickly replaced by his fear and worry for the boy.

Harry jumped at a noise behind him and turned to see Hermione emerging from the restricted section, her arms laden with a multitude of impossibly large tomes.

"Where'd you come from?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Hermione shrugged, and nearly dropped the heavy books. Harry quickly reached out to take them from her, placing them on a table.

"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling. "There's a back entrance. McGonagall told me about it last year so I could get into the restricted section without Madame Pince knowing."

Harry shook his head, disbelieving. He couldn't help a grin. "Hermione, you sneaky little witch! You never cease to amaze me."

Hermione laughed. "I see someone's in a better mood."

Harry frowned at this. "No," he said sulkily. "I'm not. Can we just get on with it so I can take my mind off the fact that I shouldn't even be here?"

Hermione looked reproachful, but she said nothing. She merely nodded, and her eyes took on a steely glaze. Harry knew that meant she was in official "work mode." He sat down across from her and pulled an exceptionally heavy book off the stack, sneezing as he opened it. Apparently it had not been read, or dusted, in a very long time.

"Gesundheit," Hermione muttered, already absorbed in another book.

"Thanks," Harry said. "Now, what exactly are we looking for?"

***

Draco Malfoy was a consummate actor. He always had been, even at the age of four, pretending to faint just to see the terrified look on his mother's face. It earned him the reputation of being a sickly child, but his mother's screeching wails as the house elves scrambled to help him made it all worth it. He may not have been evil, but he was certainly no saint.

This was no different. Draco struggled admirably against Remus, tossing his head in defiance, looking for all the world like an indignant silver stallion. Remus, on his part, held Draco's arm tightly - A bit too tightly, thought Draco - and glared at him disdainfully.

"That is your trade?" said an icy voice. "That worthless bit of trash?" The words stung, but Draco ignored them, as he had learned to do at a very young age.

"Hello, Father," he said, a chilly smile distorting his handsome features. He was, after all, his father's son, and still a Malfoy.

"What is the meaning of this, werewolf?" Lucius said, pinning Remus with a look of utter loathing.

"Well, Malfoy, you should be pleased to hear that your filthy little brat is following admirably in his father's footsteps." Draco stomped on Remus's foot as he said this. Just for good measure, he thought.

"I'm afraid I don't know what on earth you're talking about, half-breed. The 'little brat,' as you call him, is a traitor to the Malfoy name, and a traitor to my lord. Surely you can't think I would accept him as a trade for the Weasley boy."

"Perhaps you'll change your mind when you hear he was caught stealing important papers containing classified information out of Albus Dumbledore's office," Remus said, roughing Draco up just a bit. That's for stomping on my foot.

"And what exactly does this have to do with me? I didn't raise my son to be a petty thief." Lucius inspected his perfectly manicured nails, acting bored with the whole situation. Draco saw behind his façade. There was something behind his father's eyes. His interest was piqued, Draco knew.

"I failed you, Father," he said, hanging his head. Not a muscle moved in Lucius's face, but his silvery eyes snapped up to meet his son's. "I'm sorry," Draco continued. "I meant to go to Hogwarts as a spy, and once I had enough information, come home and beg your forgiveness. I couldn't tell you. I thought it was the only way."

"And what if you'd been killed before you had a chance to explain yourself?" Lucius asked quietly.

A-ha! thought Draco. I've got you now.

"I knew there were risks," he said aloud. "I wanted to please you, to make you proud. I wanted to please your mas- Lord Voldemort."

Lucius thought for a moment and then nodded. "Very well then. I accept this trade. Give me the boy, and you'll have Weasley." Lucius motioned to a hooded man behind him, who brought forward Bill Weasley, only looking a bit worse for the wear. The man shoved him toward Remus, who, giving Draco's arm a reassuring squeeze, did the same. Bill and Draco were now standing side-by-side, Bill facing Remus and Draco facing his father.

"On three?" Lucius inquired, raising a hand. Remus nodded his assent, and Lucius began to count.

"One."

Any second now, thought Draco.

"Two."

Sirius will give the signal, and Charlie and Neville will jump in. I'll be safe on Sirius's bike before I know it.

"Three," Lucius said, and he and Remus snapped their fingers, simultaneously releasing both young men from their bonds. Bill ran quickly to Remus's side, looking relieved. Draco walked slowly to his father, rubbing his sore wrists. Lucius placed a hand on his shoulder in a vice-like grip.

Any second now, Draco thought, shivering under his father's less-than-warm welcome back into the family. Come on Sirius, you stupid mutt. Where are you? Draco looked questioningly at Remus, who was healing Bill's cuts and scrapes and ushering him out of the bank, escorted by Tonks. Draco couldn't help but notice he looked as though he was wondering the same thing.

Lucius began dragging Draco toward the clustered death eaters, when he was suddenly blinded by a flash of light.

And then all hell broke loose.

***

Harry removed his glasses and rubbed the back of his neck wearily. They had been at it for hours, and had found nothing but dreary, obscure textbooks on the nature of snakes, many of them written in Latin.

Hermione made a small noise of consternation from across the table. "What's this?" she muttered to herself, turning the brittle pages of an enormous book that looked to have been around longer than Hogwarts.

"What?" Harry asked, peering over stacks of discarded volumes, straining to see what Hermione was staring at so intently.

"This text," she replied, screwing up her face in concentration. "It's like no other I've ever seen before."

"What do you mean?"

"The language. I've never seen it before." Harry knew this was significant, as Hermione had always excelled at languages.

"May I see?" he asked. Hermione nodded and slid the book over to him. Harry focused on the strange characters, frowning. There was something oddly familiar about them. He was sure he had never before seen a language such as this, but as he looked on, the characters began to flow together, began to make sense.

Harry gasped.

"It's Parseltongue," he said softly. "I can read it."

"But that's impossible," said Hermione, awestruck. "Parseltongue is an oral language. It doesn't exist in written form."

Harry shook his head. "I know. But how else could I possibly understand it?"

Hermione thought about this for a moment. "Perhaps Parseltongue originated from whatever language it is we've discovered here."

"That's likely," Harry said, nodding. "There are some bits I can't quite comprehend, but I do get the gist of it."

"Well then, what does it say?"

"Well, this here," Harry said, pointing to a group of squirming, liquid characters, "is the word I believe we're looking for. It's Anguionae."

"Yes," Hermione breathed. "It fits perfectly. But what is it?"

"I'm not sure yet," Harry said, fingering the worn pages. "It's repeated often, but it never explains the meaning."

"Perhaps if you skip ahead a bit you'll find something more," Hermione suggested.

Harry nodded, flipping ahead several pages and skimming through the lines. They blurred together, forming a stream of incomprehensible squiggles; yet in Harry's mind they sounded clear as a bell.

"Here!" he said triumphantly. "An entire chapter devoted to Anguionae." Harry read down the first page, his expression growing troubled. As he went further, the troubled look increased to worry, and then to fear. "Bloody buggering hell," he whispered, his eyes wide and shiny.

"What?" Hermione asked, concerned. "What's the matter?"

"The Anguionae are a people. A race."

"A race?" Hermione questioned dumbly.

"Snake people," Harry whispered. Hermione gasped, placing a hand over her mouth. "They're warriors, Hermione. They spend the first half of their lives training for battle," he continued, following the ever-shifting text with his index finger. "The second half, they spend at war. If there are no enemies for them to wage battle against, they fight among themselves. Some of the most gruesome civil wars in history have come from their kind."

Hermione was stunned speechless.

"So this means," Harry said slowly, not wanting to consider the implications, "that if Voldemort has some sort of link with these people, it's very likely..."

"That he's forming an army of his own," Hermione finished. "An army of snake people."

Harry nodded. "And this language - it isn't Parseltongue, it's their language. Anguish."

Hermione shuddered. Anguish. "How appropriate."

"Come on, we've got to tell Dumbledore. Now."

***

Sirius sped through the woods, a ferocious wind whipping through his long ebony hair. He smiled in the face of it, loving everything his bike represented - speed, sex, and most importantly, freedom. Not to mention, it was dead cool. It had been ages since Sirius was allowed out on his bike, and he relished the short drive to Hogsmeade as though it might be his last.

He opted to travel over ground, through the forest in order to remain inconspicuous. If one thing could rouse suspicion, even in a magical town, it was a flying motorbike. And so Sirius sped through the forest, enchanting trees and bushes to hop out of his way as he went. Occasionally, his charms would come out a little overzealous, and a stinging nettle bush would leap into his lap fearfully, clinging for dear life. It was not a pleasant sensation, to say the least.

Sirius could just make out the softly glowing lights of Hogsmeade as he cleared the most dense part of the forest. Once safely inside the village, he would make his way to a field behind the Shrieking Shack, which was surrounded by charms and spells. There he could take to the skies on his bike without anyone seeing.

He headed toward another patch of trees - the last bit before reaching the outskirts of town. Something was off, he could sense it. As many charms as he was putting on the trees, they seemed to be jumping in front of him, instead of retreating out of his path. He swerved on the bike, dodging a particularly peeved-looking silver birch. The tree made a grumpy huffing noise as he passed, returning to his patch of earth and sinking his roots in, becoming inanimate once again.

Sirius turned his head to watch this occur. It was a mistake. They were coming at him from all directions now - oak, maple, pine. And those damned stinging nettles. Sirius jerked the bike in and out in a crazy zigzag pattern, but his attempts to outsmart or outrun the angry trees were futile.

A giant evergreen, it's branches heavy with pine cones and dripping with sap, leapt into the path of Sirius's bike, towering above him. Sirius yanked the bike to the left, and the pine moved in the same direction. A collision was imminent, there was no way to avoid it. Sirius braced himself for the impact, hoping it would be over quickly.

In a heartbeat, everything went black.

***

Charlie Weasley and Neville Longbottom waited anxiously in an anteroom in Gringott's Wizarding Bank. They were ready to set off their distraction, just as soon as Sirius got there on his bike and gave them the signal. But it was already fifteen minutes past the scheduled time, and Sirius was nowhere to be found.

Charlie and Neville eyed one another nervously, not knowing what to do. Charlie was wearing a pair of Fred and George's extendable ears, and he could hear quite perfectly everything that was happening in the main hall. He was relieved to hear that Bill was making his way safely out of the bank, but his stomach twisted when he heard Lucius addressing Draco. He knew Malfoy was now in possession of his son, and it would be nearly impossible to get him back.

Minutes crept by, and still no Sirius. Charlie heard Malfoy set off toward the Death Eaters with Draco in tow. He gave Neville a meaningful look, and the boy nodded, understanding. It was now or never, and whether Sirius was there or not, they had to do everything in their power to get Draco back to safety.

After all, Charlie thought, he just saved my brother's life.

Brandishing their wands, the two young men edged over to the door, creaking it open. Charlie could see Remus standing just outside, looking a bit lost, sending worried glances over to where Draco was pinned in between two Death Eaters. Charlie whistled lowly, catching Remus's attention. The older man, sensing what they were about to do, shook his head, mouthing the words Not yet.

Charlie mouthed back, No Sirius. Remus looked stricken, but he nodded, sending another furtive glance in Draco's direction. He reached carefully for his wand, making sure Lucius Malfoy's back was still turned. The blonde man was speaking quietly to his minions, having completely dismissed Remus and the others. Remus held a hand behind his back, where he knew Charlie could see. He stuck out his index finger, indicating one. Then the next finger... and then the third.

Charlie and Neville erupted from the smaller room, hurling curses in every direction. Remus ran for Draco, dodging hexes and trying to avoid the Death Eaters at all costs. As soon as they realized they were under attack, they retaliated, advancing upon the three men. Tonks and Snape ran back inside, wands held high, disarming as many of the Death Eaters as they could. Poppy Pomfrey stood outside, looking terrified. She had been tending to the remainder of Bill's wounds, but she was now holding him back, as he struggled to join the fight.

They were hopelessly outnumbered, fighting a losing battle. Charlie was hit with a bad Impedimenta curse, and he fell, knocking Tonks down with him. Snape and Neville were battle Avery and Crabbe, but just as Snape sent a very nasty curse hurtling toward them, they Disapparated with a small pop! Remus, who had been distracted by a large, burly Death Eater he had never seen before, charged ahead, searching Draco out. He caught sight of him just in time to see his blonde head waver and fall as he slumped to the ground.

Lucius picked the boy up and flung him over his shoulder. Remus ran for them, throwing curses haphazardly, but he was too late. Just as he reached him, they disappeared, leaving only a wisp of silver smoke where they had been standing.

***

Draco didn't know what he'd been hit with; he only remembered feeling a bit woozy, as though he needed to sit down. Before he knew it, his knees were giving out, and the cold stone floor rushed up to meet him.

He came to some time later, in a dark, frighteningly familiar room.

Home, sweet home, he thought bitterly, as he sat up and looked at the dark walls of his old bedroom on the second floor of Malfoy Manor. He struggled to rise from the bed, but a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. He looked back and realized he was handcuffed to the bed. The cuffs gave off a faint pearlescent glow, telling Draco they weren't just any Muggle handcuffs; these he knew were charmed, and he was loathe to find out just what might happen if he struggled against them.

Leaning back into his old bed with a sigh, Draco looked around, mentally recalling every exit, every hiding place he could think of in the great, sprawling house. After endless moments of this, his eyelids began to flutter shut, and he drifted off into a restless sleep.

He awoke with a start, almost forgetting where he was. The sound of the door creaking, the way it always had when he was younger, reminded him. The door slid partially open, and a shaft of light from the hall filtered in, framing the figure silhouetted there.

"Hello, young Master Draco," said a rasping voice. "The prodigal son has returned home, I see."

"Hello, Voldemort," Draco said, with a valiant attempt at a sneer.

The Dark Lord pushed the door the rest of the way open, and stepped into the light. Suddenly, Draco knew he had come face to face with death.

He couldn't help but wish he had shagged Harry just one more time before it all ended.