Lumos Obscurum

Chapter 11 - The Request

Harry walked slowly down the shadowed corridor that led to the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster's office, a violent flood of thoughts and emotions overwhelming his mind. Finally, he knew why McGonagall had sent Draco Malfoy to the Dursleys for the last part of the summer, and while part of him was feeling quite satisfied that he at last knew the truth, most of him only felt incredibly guilty about it.

Both McGonagall and Dumbledore had hoped that the isolation he and Malfoy had endured together would allow them to help each other through a difficult time, but, unfortunately, it hadn't worked.

Well, Harry reflected, that's not completely true. Malfoy did tell me about his mum after all.

No, it was only he, Harry, who had stayed stubborn enough to keep his feelings about what happened to Siri... about what happened cooped up inside himself, refusing to let anyone help him.

And look at this, he thought, very annoyed with himself. I'm doing it again.

He kicked the side of the stone wall in frustration as he rounded a bend. Nothing could ever be easy, could it?

"There you are, Harry!" Ron's voice called out. Harry lifted his head and saw that he had arrived at Dumbledore's office, and Ron and Hermione were sitting against the wall opposite the entrance.

"You've been ages," Hermione said, standing up and brushing herself off.

"Yeah," Ron added, scowling. "I reckon supper's half over by now."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled. "Took longer than I expected."

"Well come on, then," Hermione said. "We've got to see what Professor Dumbledore wants to talk to us about. I do hope we're not in any sort of trouble," she added worriedly.

"Hermione," Ron said impatiently. "It's the first day of classes. I doubt even Fred and George could manage being sent to the Headmaster on the first day."

"They could if they really, really tried, I bet," Harry smiled, his mood lightening a bit. He turned to the statue, only to realise belatedly that McGonagall never told them the password. "Er, sugar quill?" he asked, hazarding a guess.

"It's 'canary cream'," Hermione said, and the gargoyle sprang to life and jumped aside. "We figured it out about a half hour ago, but we had to wait for you. Let's go."

Harry winced. "Sorry," he said again, and followed his friends up the moving staircase.

They reached the top, and were greeted by Professor Dumbledore, who was seated behind his desk, surrounded by the sleeping portraits on the wall, and the usual array of silver, spinning objects which Harry observed had been repaired since his outburst at the end of the previous school year.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said to all of them. "Have a seat, please. I trust you've all had a pleasant first day?"

"Oh yes, it was wonderful," said Hermione, her voice filled with enthusiasm.

"It was okay," Ron said noncommittally. Hermione elbowed him and frowned, but Dumbledore gave him a small smile.

Ah yes, he said softly. I remember my old school days quite fondly... the first day, however, usually brought with it some degree of end of summer depression.

Immediately to the left of Harry's seat, Fawkes the phoenix ruffled his feathers, and, with a smile, Harry reached up to affectionately stroke his back.

Unfortunately, Dumbledore drew his hands together, the matter I must discuss with you now is somewhat more important than reminiscing about days that have long since passed. You are all well aware of course, that Lord Voldemort is indeed gaining power.

Ron flinched at the name, but Hermione nodded and Harry, tightening his lips, followed suit.

Yet you are most likely unaware of the extent to which his powers have grown. There was an attack two weeks ago at the residence of an elderly Muggle couple-

Hermione's jaw dropped. What?

Ron looked taken aback. We never heard anything about that!

No, you wouldn't have, Dumbledore said. Through an enormous amount of good luck, I managed to convince the Ministry and the press to say not a word about the incident. It would have caused a great panic, and for once, the Minister and I were at an agreement that this should not happen.

Professor, Hermione said quietly, looking a bit fearful. Did they... were the Muggles...? her voice drifted off, unable to finish the question.

They did not survive the attack, Dumbledore said sadly. They were hit with the Killing Curse.

Hermione put a hand over her mouth and dropped her gaze to the floor.

Why Muggles? Ron wondered. Why would he go after a pair of random Muggles Why not somebody more important?

Why not Muggles? Harry said sharply, his mouth drawn. You've heard about the way he works, Ron. He doesn't care who the victim is... as long as he gets to murder somebody before the night is up he's a happy fellow. And the fact that they were Muggles is probably an added bonus.

Harry...? Hermione looked stricken at Harry's harsh words.

I'm afraid Harry is right, Dumbledore said. This is precisely what makes Voldemort so terrifying. Nobody knows when or where he is going to strike. His loyal followers have returned to him, and even as we speak, he is in the process of recruiting still more. It's only a matter of time before he decides to make another move."

"What can we do?" Harry said at once. "What can we do to help?"

"Help?" One of the portraits of the old Headmasters cracked its eye open at this. "Dumbledore, you must realise that they are far too young."

Dumbledore bowed his head to the portrait. "Yes, I do know they are young, Professor Dippet, yet even in their adolescence, they have done a many great things which prove they are well beyond their years."

The painting of Professor Dippet huffed indignantly. "Dumbledore, the laws of the Order clearly state that a witch or wizard must be of age to join-"

"I am well aware of the rules, Professor. Rest assured that I am not asking them to join the Order of the Phoenix," Dumbledore interrupted steadily.

"Excuse me, Professor," Hermione said nervously. "But what can we do if we're not in the Order?"

"Simply because you are not part of the Order, Miss Granger, does not mean that you may not aid our side in the conflict," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled when he said this, but his expression remained grave as he studied the three of them. "What I am asking you to do will be as vital as the work done by any member of the Order. I am requesting that you, Miss Granger, and you, Misters Potter and Weasley, take a more active role in the war against Voldemort."

A dozen more portraits on the walls abandoned their feigned sleep at this proclamation. "Madness!" A painting of an old woman shouted. "This is madness, Dumbledore!"

"Hear, hear!" another former Headmaster seconded. "They're barely kids! Kids do not go to war!"

"As I stated before," Dumbledore said, his voice quite calm. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter are not your typical youths. They have shown themselves capable of achieving things that many fully grown wizards cannot."

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said, ignoring the portraits' protests. "What is it that you want us to do, exactly? I mean, we can't really leave the school or anything to do things like Hagrid did last year with the giants... people would notice we've gone missing...."

Dumbledore leaned forward. "No, Harry, everything will be done right here at Hogwarts. If you accept the proposal I'm offering, your location will be very convenient. When I say 'active role', it is probably not in the sense you are thinking. I am not asking you to spy on the enemy or assault Death Eaters or anything like that. No, what you will be doing is far more important."

Harry and the others waited in silence for Dumbledore to continue. More important? Harry repeated to himself. What could possibly be more important than capturing Death Eaters?

Dumbledore stood and stared pensively out the window at the setting sun for a long moment. "You three are the brightest students Hogwarts has seen in a long while," he said quietly.

Hermione looked pleased, but Ron opened his mouth to protest. Before he had a chance, though, Dumbledore continued, "Even if it doesn't show in your grades, the fact still remains. You have intuitive minds, and your accomplishments in the past five years demonstrate this. While I have a fondness for all of my students, of course, most are simply not capable of working their way through obstacles, fighting off basilisks, dementors, and dark wizards, or figuring out puzzles the way you three can. Each of you are remarkable in your own unique ways, and working together, you become a most formidable team."

Dumbledore turned away from the window and faced them again. "The Order," he continued, "has been very successful in holding off Voldemort's followers, and delaying his plans, yet despite all this, we still have not found a solution for destroying Voldemort himself."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Dumbledore beat her to it. "Yes, Miss Granger, even I have not come up with anything. I fear I am becoming too old for this sort of thing," he smiled slightly. "All of the members of the Order and I have meticulously combed through every piece of information we have collected on Voldemort and his Death Eaters, however no solution seems to be presenting itself. We cannot deny any longer that time is running short.

"Many of my comrades feel that things are becoming bleak, yet I believe hope is not lost. Far from it, in fact. For as many times as we studied the evidence, I know that we must be missing something, a key factor. We have been over it so many times that it may actually be right under our noses, but we have exhausted ourselves trying to find it. I decided over the summer that we must allow new faces to hunt for the missing component, for they may spot something that we have not. With you three working with us, I think we will have a very good chance of devising a feasible plan for defeating Voldemort."

There was a silence in the room. Even the portraits quieted themselves during Dumbledore's speech. At least a solid minute had passed before Harry finally spoke. "You're asking us to come up with a plan to get rid of Voldemort," he said, wondering if Dumbledore were the sort of person that would pull a practical joke.

No, Harry thought to himself as he gazed at Dumbledore. He wouldn't joke about something like this. He's completely sincere.

Even as he thought this, Harry could not suppress the disbelief in the fact that Dumbledore was asking them, three 16-year-old students, for help. And if Ron's and Hermione's expressions were any indication, they were feeling the same thing.

In response to Harry's remark, Dumbledore nodded. "Like I said, you all make a phenomenal team, and I would not think of asking anyone else. I do understand that this will be a very busy year with you, with your N.E.W.T.s being so close, and I know that what I am asking of you is going above and beyond the call of duty, but I beg you to consider undertaking this task."

"We'll do it," Harry said. Then, realising with a slight flush that he was speaking for all of them, looked over at Hermione and Ron, but found that they were not protesting.

Ron nodded, and Hermione said, "Of course we will."

Harry smiled. He hadn't figured they would do anything less, and, catching the smile on Dumbledore's face, realised that Dumbledore knew they would accept as well.

"You will, of course, have access to the notes I have compiled on the matter. You will also have the full reaches of the library at your disposal, including the restricted section. I doubt that I have read every volume Madam Pince has collected, there may be something there that I have overlooked."

Harry nodded.

"We'll start right away," Hermione said, and Harry could see that her eyes were alight with a new challenge and the gears were turning in her head. Even now, she was probably working up research schedules for all of them.

Dumbledore held up a hand. "I beg you not to begin until tomorrow. It is late, and I do not wish for you to become fatigued. While time is of the essence, I believe matters can wait while you get a full night's rest," he smiled. "It is, after all, my foremost duty to look after the welfare of my students."

Hermione nodded, but Harry knew that she would not let that stop her. Knowing her, she would be up all night excitedly planning for this new assignment.

Harry slowly became aware that the portraits hanging on the walls were muttering to themselves. All of them were now wide awake, and it was clear that they had paid close attention to the conversation between the current Headmaster and his students.

"Another thing I must mention," Dumbledore said, staring solemnly at Harry, Hermione, and Ron. "I would advise you not to confide in anyone outside this room about the duty you have taken on."

"Yes," one of the portraits puffed out his chest. "If word gets out that you are entrusting your with this sort of responsibility, the results would be dire indeed. Why, if it were up to me, I would never think about-"

"But I am afraid that it is not up to you, Professor Fidgeon," Dumbledore said mildly. "These times are very different from when you were Headmaster, and I ask that you trust my judgement on this."

"Good show, Dumbledore, good show," applauded Professor Everard. "Finest Headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen!"

One or two of the more arrogant portraits bristled at this, but most of them seemed to agree with this sentiment. Dumbledore only inclined his head humbly towards Everard and said, "Thank you, Professor."

He turned back to the three students and continued, "One last thing before you take your leave."

All of them looked up expectantly, but Dumbledore centred his gaze on Harry. "Harry, although you may feel less than pleased at this particular request, it is my wish that you continue to receive Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape this year."

"What?!" Harry could not stop himself from saying loudly. Ron scowled, and even Hermione looked a bit surprised.

Dumbledore bowed his head. "I said before, Harry, that we have no idea what Voldemort is planning next. It may or may not involve trying to get inside your head again. Occlumency is the only way you can avert this."

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly for a second or two before he finally found his voice. "But, with Snape?" he objected. "He won't teach me, he hates me!"

"I have had a word with Professor Snape on this matter, and I managed to convince him teach you again this year."

"He hates me!" Harry said again, as if Dumbledore didn't hear him the first time. "Can't... can't you teach me?"

"It is unwise, Harry, for you to be around me for an extended period of time," Dumbledore said. "If Voldemort does try to get inside your head again, he may try to get to me. This must not happen. This meeting has already taken a longer amount of time than I had originally thought, and you must leave soon otherwise we are putting both ourselves at risk."

"But... but..." Harry tried desperately once more. "It doesn't work! Occlumency doesn't work for me!"

"Then you must try harder," now Dumbledore's expression hardened just a fraction, but the change was quite noticeable to Harry. "Occlumency is the only thing that can prevent what has happened once already."

Harry winced at the reference to what occurred at the Department of Mysteries and withdrew his gaze. Even though the remark stung him, he knew Dumbledore was right. It must not be allowed to happen again.

"Harry," Hermione started softly. "Harry, we'll help. Ron and I will do everything we can to help you."

Harry swallowed with difficulty, then looked up to meet Dumbledore's gaze again and gave a small nod.

"Good," he said. "And now I have detained you long enough. I'm sure you have better things to do... homework, perhaps."

Ron's face fell, and Harry suppressed a chuckle at his expression.

Dumbledore glanced over at an hourglass on a shelf. "I'm afraid that I have made you miss supper," he said ruefully. "I will have a meal prepared and sent up to Gryffindor Tower."

"Thanks, sir," Ron instantly brightened.

Ron and Hermione headed for the door, but Harry hesitated. Something was bothering him, something that he had thought of when Dumbledore was first proposing this assignment to them, but he had been reluctant to bring it up.

He cast an uneasy glance over to his friends. He hadn't shared the details of the lost prophecy to them, and he didn't know when he would be able to... certainly not now. He hung back and told Ron and Hermione to go on ahead, he would meet them outside in a few moments.

He turned back to Dumbledore, who was gazing serenely at him from his desk.

"Sir," he approached the Headmaster once more.

"Yes, Harry?" Dumbledore said, though to him it seemed like Dumbledore already knew what Harry was going to ask.

"Professor, how does the prophecy fit into all this?"

Dumbledore heaved a sigh, and looked weary for the first time that evening. "I wish to avoid the consequences of the prophecy, Harry. I am hoping that we will find a... better way to vanquish Voldemort."

"But it's a prophecy," Harry pressed. "It has to come true, doesn't it? It's me and Voldemort at the end. How can that be avoided?"

Dumbledore lowered his gaze. "Only time will tell," he said gravely. "Now I imagine you must be hungry after all this talk. Go have some supper, then get some sleep."

And Harry knew this conversation was over. "Yes, sir," he said as he left the office and descended the moving staircase. Things were uncertain now, he knew. He and Ron and Hermione were now charged with the task of trying to figure out a way to end Voldemort's reign for good, and possibly finding a way around the prophecy. How they were going to accomplish that, he didn't have the faintest idea.

* * * * *

He, Hermione, and Ron walked up to Gryffindor Tower. It was quite late in the evening so the corridors were nearly empty.

"I can't believe you didn't put up more of a fight to Dumbledore about your N.E.W.T.s coming up soon," Ron said good-naturedly to Hermione.

"N.E.W.T.s?" Hermione shook her head. "No, this is much more important than just a bunch of tests."

Ron's mouth dropped open. "Just... just a bunch of tests?" he spluttered in shock. "Harry, are you hearing what I'm hearing?" he asked, but Harry was already staring at Hermione incredulously. Never once, in all the years they had known each other, had he heard Hermione speak about the N.E.W.T.s in such a way.

"Ron, stop being ridiculous," Hermione reprimanded. "The N.E.W.T.s are important, yes, but this is the future of the world we're talking about. Not just the wizarding world, either, but the Muggle one as well. Phoenix tears," she told the portrait as they arrived at the entrance to Gryffindor.

"You're back awfully late, my dears," the Fat Lady yawned. "Do try not to make it a habit. I need my beauty sleep."

Ron snorted and she gave him a dark look, but swung her painting open to admit them to the common room. A few students were milling around, but most had already gone up to bed. Something knocked into Harry's back, and he turned, startled, to see that a floating tray of sandwiches and pumpkin juice had followed them in.

"Excellent!" Ron exclaimed, picking up a sandwich and biting a huge chunk out of it.

Hermione took a few sandwiches and a goblet of pumpkin juice for herself and announced, "I'm heading up to bed."

"No you're not," Harry grinned at her. "You're going to go upstairs to work out a research schedule for all of us."

Ron chuckled as a slight blush tinged Hermione's cheeks. "Well, this is really important. We have to get started right away," she said.

"We're just teasing, Hermione," Ron said.

"At least I'm doing something productive," Hermione said defensively. "I bet you two aren't going to start that essay Professor McGonagall assigned us until the night before it's due."

Ron shrugged one shoulder. "Probably."

Hermione made an exasperated noise. "Honestly. You'll never learn, will you?"

"Probably not," Ron said brightly.

"I'm going to bed," Harry cut in through their banter. "Enjoy your argument, I'll see you in the morning."

"We're not arguing," Hermione protested, but Harry was already on his way up the stairs.

* * * * *

"Hi, Harry!" Katie Bell came up to them at lunchtime the next day. "Hi, Ron!"

"Hi, Katie," Harry smiled at her. "What's up?"

"McGonagall made me captain of Gryffindor's Quidditch team this year," she beamed.

"Well done," Ron said, through a mouthful of bread.

Katie nodded at him, "Thanks. Listen, I've come to tell you about practises this year. They'll be every Wednesday night, starting tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll also be holding trials for new players."

"We need a lot, don't we?" Harry said grimly.

Katie nodded. "Two new Chasers. You both can make it tomorrow, right?" she narrowed her eyes at them and suddenly looked very menacing. "No detentions yet, Harry?"

"No," Harry flushed. "No detention. I can make it."

Ron nodded vigorously. "Me too."

"Great!" the smile was back on Katie's face. "We'll see you tomorrow, then. On the pitch, five o'clock sharp."

"See you," Harry said, as she walked away to sit down with her friends.

"Hope some decent players try out," Ron said gloomily. "We haven't got a chance if all we get are stupid sods like the ones who tried last year."

"That's a nice way to talk," Hermione said loftily. "Might I remind you that you were one of those so-called 'stupid sods' who tried out last year?"

"No," Ron said icily. "You may not."

Hermione pursed her lips as Ron took another roll of the tray. "Hurry up, you two, we can't be late for Defence Against the Dark Arts class."

"Hold your horses, Hermione," Harry crammed the last bit of his ham sandwich into his mouth. "'Dere," he said thickly. "I'm binished. Habby now?"

"Extremely," she responded curtly. "Now, let's go. Ron, don't you even think of taking thirds."

Ron sullenly replaced the ladle in the large bowl of soup in the centre of the table, looking very disappointed.

"Let's go," Hermione repeated impatiently.

Harry hefted his bag over one shoulder and followed her out of the Great Hall, Ron on his tail.

"Hermione!" Ron huffed. "C'mon, we've plenty of time. Be reasonable!"

"Well, we don't know how strict this new teacher is. We don't want to take any chances, it's best to get there early."

They arrived at the Defence classroom ten minutes before the lesson was slated to begin. The door was open a crack, and a small stream of light emitted from inside the room.

"The new teacher must be in there already," Hermione whispered excitedly.

Harry suddenly felt apprehensive. What if this new professor was worse than Umbridge? Last year, he didn't think that anyone could be more terrible Umbridge, but then again, he never really knew what surprises the wizarding world had in store for him.

"I can't look," Ron said, backing away. "Harry, you look."

Harry shook his head forcefully. "Not me."

"Oh, honestly," Hermione pushed her way through the both of them and opened the door. There was an intake of breath, and Hermione said, "I don't believe it!"

"What?" Ron demanded. He shoved her aside and took a look. There was a pause... and then, "Oi, Harry!" he exclaimed gleefully. "Look who it is! It's Dung - Mundungus Fletcher!"

Harry eyes widened. He peered into the classroom and indeed saw Mundungus Fletcher's gangly form hunched over in the chair behind the professor's desk. "We should've known," Harry grinned. "Who else would be late for the first week of term?"

"Mundungus!" Ron said as he entered the classroom. "Why didn't you tell us you'd be teaching this year?"

"Hullo there, Ron," Mundungus gave Ron a crooked grin. "Dumbledore dinnit want me tellin' no one. Plus, I wanted it ta be a surprise," he winked.

A wide smile spread across Ron's face. "Well this won't be so bad at all, will it Harry?" He leaned in close to Mundungus as though he was about to share a deep secret. "We didn't know what to expect, after they foisted that Umbridge cow on us last year..."

"Aye... I've 'eard about her," Mundungus said grimly. "Blimey... if it was me who was 'aving her for a teacher when I was in school, she wouldn't've lasted long, lads, lemme tell ya..." he cackled, and Harry found himself grinning.

He glanced back at Hermione, but saw that she was looking anything but happy. "Hermione?" he inquired. "What's the matter?"

She pressed her lips together (a sure sign that she was irritated, to Harry), but shook her head. "Nothing's wrong," she said. "Let's take our seats then, the rest of the class will be arriving soon."

Harry dropped his bag on one of the desks in the front row, and Ron was about to do the same, but Mundungus waved him in closer. "How're yer brothers doin', Ron?" he asked in a low tone. "With their joke shop an' everythin'?"

"Oh, okay, I suppose..." Ron shrugged. "I don't exactly know..."

"I stopped by their shop over the summer," Harry put in. At Ron's curious look, Harry explained, "The day we went to Diagon Alley to get our school things. Anyway, Professor, they're really successful. There was a huge crowd of people hanging around it that day."

Mundungus looked pleased. "Good lads, they are, good lads..." he turned back to Ron and dropped his head so that his ginger hair flopped over his face. "Give 'em a message for me, wontcha?" he said solemnly. "Tell 'em I can still get 'em some stuff they need... bowtruckle eggs 'n such... and tell 'em cauldrons are still goin' real cheap-like... never ones to miss good business deals, they are..."

To Harry, it looked like Ron was struggling to keep a straight face in front of Mundungus' serious one. "I'll be sure to let them know, Professor," he said. A corner of his mouth twitched upward in a tiny smirk, but was able to otherwise cover his amusement.

"Good, good," Mundungus grunted. "Can't let me dealings slide just 'cause I'm teachin' now... already done a bit of business with Hagrid..."

A few seconds later the rest of the students filed in, and Mundungus let them take their seats. At his desk, Harry stretched and leaned back against his chair contently. This year was certainly shaping up to be better than the last.

* * * * *

After a very good Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson involving various techniques to defend oneself against some complicated curses, Harry found himself walking through a crowded corridor alone, his books in hand. Hermione and Ron needed to attend a Gryffindor prefects meeting, so Harry had to make the long journey back up to his dormitory by himself.

Just ahead of him, however, Harry was met with a distraction. He spotted Draco Malfoy walking with a bunch of his Slytherin friends. All at once, everything that had occurred in the past day rushed from his head, and all he could think of was the disappointed look McGonagall had subjected him to the previous night. Straightening his shoulders, he decided that now was the time to do what should have been done a long time ago.

"Malfoy!" Harry called, jostling students aside in order catch up with the blond boy.

Draco turned around, looking irritated. "What the - oh, it's you."

"Malfoy," Harry said again as he approached. The rest of Draco's Slytherin gang had turned as well, and were now glaring at him with cold eyes. Harry felt more than a little uneasy under their penetrating stares.

"Well?" Draco asked impatiently. "What is it?"

"You want us to beat him up?" Goyle cracked his knuckles.

"No," Draco said coolly. "I realise that maiming people is your only joy in life, Goyle, but kindly restrain yourself for a moment. Now, what is it, Potter?"

Harry hesitated. He couldn't exactly have a proper conversation with Draco right here. "Er... want to take a walk?"

Pansy Parkinson snorted and stared down her pug nose haughtily. "A walk?" she laughed. "Why ever would Draco want to take a walk with you, Potter?"

"Er," Harry said again.

"It's nearly suppertime, Potter," Draco sniffed.

"I know," Harry said quickly. "It won't take long. There's just... something I want to say."

Draco stared at Harry for a second longer. "Fine," he concluded. "As long as it doesn't take up my whole evening. Some of us have better things to do than simply take walks all day, Potter."

Pansy Parkinson's mouth dropped open. "Draco, are you feeling alright?" she demanded.

"I'm feeling fine, Pansy, my dear," Draco said smoothly. He thrust his bag into Crabbe's big hands. "You may take my things to my room." he told him. "Wait for me for supper, I won't be long. Right, Potter?"

"Uh," Harry said. "Right."

Draco folded his arms. "Lead the way, then."

Harry was all too happy to turn away from Pansy's death glare, and Crabbe?s and Goyle?s confused stares . He led Draco back through the corridor and out through the main entrance.

Never do that again, Draco hissed, once they were well away from the school.

?Do what?? Harry asked in surprise.

Act like we're all chummy in front of my friends. We?re not, remember?

Yeah, Harry said, a cold feeling settling in the pit of his stomach despite the warm day. Yeah, I remember.

If it were anyone else, you know, I would've let Crabbe and Goyle have them and be done with it.

Well, Harry forced a half-hearted grin. I'm just lucky I know Cruciatus, now, aren't I? Crabbe and Goyle wouldn't have gotten anywhere near me.

Draco smirked. Maybe, he said noncommittally. You wouldn't have used it, though.

Why wouldn't I?

Because, Draco rolled his eyes. Youre saving your special skill for the people who deserve it the most, he said mockingly.

So? Harry said defensively. Whats wrong with that?

Draco shrugged. Nothing. Its just that being noble tends to expel a lot of extra energy, doesnt it? Its not worth it.

Whos to say that Crabbe and Goyle dont deserve Cruciatus?

Draco shrugged again. Maybe they do. But are you the one to determine that?

By this time, they had reached the top of a small hill overlooking the lake. Harry turned to face it, and watched as one of the Giant Squids tentacles lazily splash out of the tranquil water, almost as if it were waving. The sun was sinking lower on the horizon, and the sky was just beginning to be tinged with an orange hue.

Harry found the atmosphere around him to be quite soothing, which was a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotion within him.

I didnt come here to discuss philosophy with you, Malfoy, Harry said softly.

Draco sank down onto the tall grass and stretched his long legs. Then what did you want to discuss with me And do be quick about it, Potter, theyre serving bread pudding with supper tonight.

Harry laughed quietly and sat down beside the Slytherin. At that moment, Draco strongly reminded him of Ron.

"I want to tell you what happened at the end of last term," Harry started. He stared down at the ground and rubbed a blade of the long grass between his fingers. "About what happened to me. And Sirius."

Draco grew more subdued. "Okay..." he said cautiously.

Harry took a deep breath and met Draco's eyes. "Sirius Black," he began slowly, "is... was... not a murderer. He and my parents were best friends when they were at school. My mum and dad made Sirius my godfather when I was born."

Draco met his gaze steadily and didn't interrupt, which was something Harry was thankful for. This was difficult enough without any smart remarks Draco might have to offer about the matter.

"It was Pettigrew who betrayed my parents," Harry continued. "Peter Pettigrew was friends with them as well. But Pettigrew as good as murdered my parents, and framed Sirius for it. So Sirius spent twelve years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. You probably know about Pettigrew..."

Draco shook his head. "Never heard of him."

"He also goes by Wormtail."

A spark of recognition flashed through Draco's eyes. "Wormtail," he repeated. "Yeah. Yeah, I know of him."

Harry took another breath and continued. "Sirius escaped prison, found me, and he and Lupin told me what really hap-"

"Lupin? That bedraggled professor we had in third year? What's he got to do with it?"

"Quite a bit," Harry said evenly. "As he was Sirius' best friend. They told me what really happened, and Sirius went into hiding. Last year..."

Harry paused, and swallowed. His throat had suddenly become very dry. He blinked once, slowly, and regained his breath. "Last year," he said roughly. "Voldemort lured me to the Department of Mysteries. He planted an image of him torturing Sirius there into my head."

Draco leaned back and stared at Harry thoughtfully, his eyes half-closed. "He planted an image in your head?"

"Yes," Harry said, his voice a ragged whisper. "All year... I was having dreams... that was why Dumbledore had me learning Occlumency... only it didn't work. It was last June when I dreamed of Sirius being tortured at the Ministry and I believed it was real. So I went, and once I got there, no Sirius. It was a trap.

"There was a battle... Sirius came... and he died." Harry gave a hollow sort of laugh. "He saved my life... but in return for that he was murdered. The only reason he was there was because of me. He was murdered, and all I did was stand there and watch."

Harry brought his head up, staring out over the lake. The Giant Squid had gone now. The sun was on the edge of the horizon now, so that most of the sky was a shade of deep blood-red.

"He died," he repeated softly to himself. "Sirius was the closest thing I had to a father. And I as good as killed him. If it wasn't for me, he'd still be alive." Harry's right hand clenched into a fist at his side. "He died and everyone tried to talk to me about it but I didn't want to, because they didn't understand. They couldn't understand. They don't know what it's like, to lose someone like that. Ron, Hermione, Mr. or Mrs. Weasley, anyone... they don't know. And they kept trying to talk and talk and talk and they couldn't comprehend that I didn't want to bloody talk about anything but they wouldn't give it up, they kept pushing and pushing that Sirius died..."

Harry was rambling and he knew it. He cut his tirade off with a choked moan and looked everywhere but Draco. He couldn't stand to think about what Draco thought of him now, to see him broken like this.

The two boys sat in silence for a long while. The sun started sinking below the line of the horizon, but neither paid it any heed. Harry remained in his rigid position, one hand curled into a quivering fist. He felt a kind of wetness behind his eyes, and he realised that they were tears.

No, he willed himself. I haven't shed a tear over this yet, and I'm not about to start now. Not now, please not now. Not in front of Malfoy.

He gulped with difficulty, doing everything he could to hold back the flood of tears threatening to overtake him. No, he repeated over and over. No, no, no, no, no, no... I will not cry.

Another minute passed, wherein Harry succeeded in holding his tears back, but only just barely. "That's why... when you asked me about it... I just couldn't. I couldn't talk about it," he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. "Nobody would understand."

By his side, Draco finally stirred. His voice, when it came, was dry and hoarse. "I understand," he said.

Harry felt a chill run down his spine at the words, and gradually, Harry raised his head up to look at Draco... at Draco's face, which was completely open, for once devoid of its usual emotionless mask. His face was open and sincere and his eyes were huge and Harry knew.

"Yes," Harry said quietly. "You understand."

The quirk of fate about this whole thing hadn't escaped Harry. He had kept this shut up inside him for most of two months, not even telling his closest friends what he was feeling. Yet here he was, talking to Draco as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And to Harry it did, without a doubt, feel that natural.

"My mum was murdered because of me," Draco started softly. "Because Voldemort wanted my bloody healing powers at his disposal. It was so important to him that it was worth my mum's life." He laughed quietly, but it was far from happy sound. "And all I could do was kneel there and watch, completely helpless. It's ironic, isn't it? I am a Genupaean, a healer, but even I couldn't do anything to make my mum better once Voldemort was done with her. I couldn't do a single ruddy thing. Very few people in the world experience this feeling of utter helplessness."

Harry closed his eyes. "I know."

There was a pause, then Draco said, "Life sucks, doesn't it?"

Harry gave a sad little laugh. "Yeah, it really does."

It's not too bad, though, Harry couldn't stop himself from thinking. Right now, it's not feeling too bad.

Draco stood up. "It's getting late."

Harry picked up his books and stood up as well. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"The end of another day," Draco murmured, staring across the lake at the sunset.

Harry started walking back towards the castle, and heard Draco follow him. "So that's why McGonagall took me to your house," Draco said from behind. Harry slowed his steps so that Draco could walk alongside him.

He nodded a confirmation. "She figured that we could identify with each other. And she was right."

"Only you were a stubborn git and wouldn't tell me what happened."

"You weren't so keen on confiding in me either," Harry frowned.

"We were both stubborn, then," Draco conceded.

Harry inclined his head. "Agreed."

"Potter..." Draco started

Harry looked up at him. "Yes?"

"You said you couldn't talk to anybody about what happened with Sirius Black. But what about Longbottom?" he asked. "You couldn't talk to him about things?"

"You know about Neville?" Harry asked, surprised.

Draco shrugged. "I know about his parents," he said impassively. "Father used to joke about it during family dinners."

"Oh," Harry felt nauseated by this fact, but decided that this was exactly the sort of thing Lucius Malfoy would do for entertainment. He tried to put it out of his mind in order to consider Draco's question. "I think," he said thoughtfully. "it's because Neville didn't see what happened to his parents. Yes, his grandmother has told him what they went through, and yes, he visits them at St. Mungo's where he can see the result of everything himself. But what happened to his parents didn't happen before his very eyes, like it did with ours. He doesn't know what it feels like to simply stand there, watching someone you love be murdered, and not being able to do a single bloody thing about it.?

"Lucky for him," Draco muttered.

"Yeah," Harry said, and lowered his eyes. The conversation had once again turned solemn. But by this time they had reached the front entryway, and the two boys paused in their steps when they reached the junction between the routes upstairs to Gryffindor, and downstairs to the dungeons.

By the muted sounds coming from the direction of the Great Hall, Harry guessed that supper was still in progress, but he realised that he didn't have much of an appetite anyway.

"Well," Draco said. "I'll see you around."

"See you," Harry echoed, and they went their separate ways.

Once he entered Gryffindor Tower, both Ron and Hermione descended upon him. "Harry, where were you?" Hermione asked anxiously. "We looked all over, but we couldn't find you anywhere."

"Walking," Harry said, shifting around uncomfortably. "I was walking."

"Supper's nearly over," said Ron. "Are you hungry? We could go get something from the kitchens."

"No," Harry feigned a yawn. "No, I'm tired. I just want to go to bed."

"Okay, Harry," Hermione said, but she still looked worried. "Sleep well."

Harry made his way upstairs and into his room. He didn't go to bed, however, he made his way to the window overlooking the grounds and sat on the ledge. The sun had now completely disappeared, and as he stared out into the night sky, he felt the wetness behind his eyes return.

He took a shuddering breath, and ordered himself to not give in. But he found that once he started thinking about Sirius, he couldn't stop. After putting things out of his mind for so long, only to relive the entire thing in such a short amount of time brought back the torrent of pain he had felt at that time, the pain, he realised, that had never really left him.

Oh, Sirius... he thought miserably. As he gazed out the window at the starry night, he felt a lone tear trickle slowly down his cheek.