Lumos Obscurum

Chapter 15 - The Final Test

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I don't know," Harry bit out. "I just know that something is very wrong. I need to talk to Dumbledore."

"Harry, Professor McGonagall told us to go back to the castle," Ginny said.

"I have to talk to Dumbledore," Harry repeated, setting decisively off across the pitch, oblivious to the flow of students heading in the opposite direction.

"Harry-" Ron's voice was lost in the crowd.

"Wait there," Harry said inattentively, his sights set on Dumbledore.

"Professor!" he called as he approached the group of teachers. Several more had flocked down from the stands to join the trio of Hooch, McGonagall, and the Headmaster.

"Professor!" Harry called again.

It was McGonagall, however, who turned to give Harry a sharp glance. "Potter - I believe I told all of the students to return to the castle."

"It's all right, Minerva," Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes peering intensely at Harry. "Yes, Harry?"

"It's Malfoy, isn't it?" Harry said at once. "Something's happened to Malfoy."

"How do you know this, Potter?" Hooch said suspiciously. "Is there something you've been hiding from us? Information?"

"No," Harry flushed under their gazes. "No - nothing like that. I don't know what's going on. I just... I know that he wouldn't miss Quidditch. Please... what's happened?"

The teachers turned to Dumbledore in response, and the old man's face remained grave. "We are currently trying to attain the whereabouts of Draco Malfoy. He disappeared from the school grounds late last night-"

"Last night?" Harry interrupted, not believing his ears. "He's been gone since last night and you haven't done anything?"

Dumbledore favoured Harry with an powerful stare. "Perhaps, Harry, we should discuss this in my office, once the school has calmed down."

"Yes," Harry said angrily. "Perhaps we should."

"Potter," McGonagall said now. "You may return the dormitory, with the rest of your classmates."

Harry opened his mouth heatedly to object, but Dumbledore spoke before he could say anything. "Harry," he spoke softly. "Listen to your Head of House and return to Gryffindor while we sort out matters. If you so choose, meet me in my office in one half-hour."

Harry, seeing that he would get nowhere with any further discussion, turned on his heel and stormed back up the hill to the chilly castle. He didn't head toward Gryffindor Tower, though. Instead, he went straight to the Headmaster's office and waited impatiently outside the stone gargoyle.

Harry's annoyance hadn't ebbed when Dumbledore came along precisely one half-hour later. Dumbledore seemed quite unsurprised to see Harry there already waiting for him. "I didn't actually expect you to return to your room," Dumbledore said to him quietly. "Canary Creams," he told the gargoyle, and it sprang aside and Harry and Dumbledore ascended the steps to his office.

"Let's get right to the point, shall we? You wish to speak about Draco Malfoy," Dumbledore inquired.

"How did you know he disappeared?" Harry demanded. "And why haven't you done anything about it?"

"Harry," Dumbledore said patiently. "It is not unfeasible for a Headmaster to be aware of the activities of his students. I am quite well informed of the events of last night."

"Oh," Harry blinked, digesting this unexpected information "Wait... if you know that Malfoy's gone... you must know what else went on last night. In the common room. Between Malfoy and me."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said pleasantly.

"Not just the Genupaean healing. I mean, you know... everything."

Dumbledore simply steepled his fingers together and hummed.

Harry sank into the chair, his face flushing with embarrassment. "Er..." He didn't quite know what to say.

"However," unconcerned with Harry's discomfort, Dumbledore stood up and went to the door. "In this case, the knowledge of Mr. Malfoy's disappearance was actually brought to attention of Professor Snape by one of Mr. Malfoy's peers, and he immediately notified me." He opened his office door. "Miss Parkinson, if you please."

Dumbledore returned to his desk, with Pansy Parkinson at his heels, staring haughtily down her nose.

"Tea?" Dumbledore offered. "I find tea to be rather comforting in times such as these."

"No, thanks," Pansy said coolly, as she took her place next to Harry.

Dumbledore offered some to Harry, who hastily refused, before conjuring a steaming teapot and pouring his own cup.

"Now then," Dumbledore said after taking a sip. "Miss Parkinson, kindly tell me exactly what you told Professor Snape."

Pansy answered without delay. "Draco didn't return to Slytherin until well after-hours last night, and he didn't stay long. He was muttering something about you, Potter," she stared accusingly at him, and Harry flushed a brighter red as he felt Dumbledore's eyes on him, too. Pansy continued, "and something about needing alcohol. So he left the common room, and naturally, I followed him."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Naturally."

"I went as far as the entrance of the school, and saw him leave the grounds. He looked like he was headed for Hogsmeade. Presumably to the Three Broomsticks to get his alcohol," she narrowed her eyes at Harry again. "I figured something had caused him to need some time alone, and a stiff drink, so I didn't bother him about it. This morning, he hadn't come back. That was when I told Professor Snape about it. It's not like him to miss Quidditch, you know," Pansy added.

"We've figured that part out," Harry murmured edgily.

"So," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, without acknowledging Harry's remark (though Pansy threw him an unpleasant glower, which he properly returned). "We know Draco disappeared from the village of Hogsmeade sometime between late last night and this morning. The question is, how?"

"He couldn't have flown off," Pansy put in. "He didn't take his broomstick."

"Yes," Dumbledore said softly. "Nor does he yet have his Apparition Licence. So what does that leave us with?"

"He was abducted," Harry said shortly. "By his father. Or by Voldemort-" Pansy let out a soft gasp "-himself."

Dumbledore stood, and examined some of his spinning silver objects on his shelf, murmuring carefully to himself. "As unlikely as it would be," he said finally, "for Voldemort to have shown himself in the village, I believe Harry is otherwise correct. Mr. Malfoy did not willingly leave Hogsmeade."

There was silence, and Harry stared wrathfully at the plain wooden front of Dumbledore's desk, his hands balled into angry fists at his side. It was just as he had feared. Draco had been forcibly taken from Hogsmeade... by Voldemort, or by Lucius, or by some other Death Eater, and was now probably in the Dark Lord's hands.

And why was he there, at Hogsmeade, at all? Because of YOU. Harry squeezed his eyes tightly shut. I know, he thought. I know. It's because of me.

From his right, he heard a low sniffle, barely imperceptible. He glanced over and saw that tears had formed in Pansy's eyes. He felt a certain wetness in his own, and he brushed it away impatiently.

"Thank you Miss Parkinson, that will be all," Dumbledore said to Pansy gently. "Return to your dormitory. Professor Snape will look after you."

Pansy hesitated. "You'll find him, won't you? You'll find him."

Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "We will find Draco."

Pansy returned the nod, gave Harry a hard-to-decipher look, and left the office.

"Why didn't she report it earlier?" Harry burst out, after she had gone. "We could have rescued him by now."

"Miss Parkinson believed that Mr. Malfoy needed some time alone, and had no reason to think that he would be in any danger," Dumbledore said calmly "I, personally, find that it is best to let students work out whatever rough patches they are going through on their own. She was quite right in letting him go, and not reporting it any sooner than she did."

Harry didn't meet Dumbledore's probing eyes. He was right, of course, and Harry felt abashed for trying to place the blame on someone other than himself.

"Right. Well then, what's our first step?" Harry said.

"My first step, Harry, will be to confer with the other teachers."

Harry felt a rush of irritation. "Your-?"

"Our first priority has always been the well being of the students of this school. We must decide how to handle the situation here. I will, of course, immediately place Order members on the search."

"But what about me?" Harry cut in. "If Voldemort's got him, I can go after them. I can get him back."

"At the expense of what?" Dumbledore asked lightly. "Have you, or Mr. Weasley or Miss Granger, formed a solid plan for going after Voldemort yet?"

"Well, no-"

"Then things are much too unstable for you to venture outside these walls."

"But the prophecy-"

"Yes, Harry. As I've told you before, I wish to avoid the consequences of the prophecy."

"So what?" Harry said desperately. "If it gets Malfoy back, what does it matter?"

"It matters a great deal," Dumbledore gave him a piercing gaze through the lenses of his half-moon shaped glasses. "Your safety is more important than you seem to think it is."

"But, but sir," Harry felt lost. "Professor... he's... he's my friend."

Dumbledore was silent for a long minute. "I know he is, Harry," he said. "But you mustn't rush off without even a semblance of a plan."

Harry's shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

"I will ask you now to go back to Gryffindor perhaps to get some sleep, while I discuss matters with the other teachers. I'm sure this is very taxing on you."

Harry made a move toward the door, but Dumbledore's voice stopped him.

"Please, Harry, remember two things," Dumbledore told him quietly. "First, know that this is not your fault, despite what that ghastly little thing called your conscience may be telling you right now. Second, and equally important, you must not do anything rash. Do you understand? Nothing rash."

Harry nodded dully. "Yes, sir." The promise felt hollow, the same as his voice. He left, and slowly prodded up to Gryffindor Tower.

***

He's gone.

Harry couldn't sleep, couldn't think, couldn't eat, even when Hermione tried to force-feed him a muffin. All he could do was repeat to himself, He's gone.

He's gone... he's vanished. He's probably in some horrible place right now, being tortured or... or worse. There was no way of knowing if he was even still alive.

"Harry, please," Hermione said, and Harry glanced up at her from a crimson armchair, where he had been sitting, unmoving, for the past hour.

"Please," she continued. "If you won't eat, won't you try to get some sleep?"

Harry shook his head slightly. "If I sleep, I'll dream."

If he slept now, he'd only have hideous nightmares, this much he knew. And he wasn't much in the mood for seeing Draco being tortured from Voldemort's eyes. Or, even if he didn't see anything through Voldemort's point of view, he knew he'd have awful dreams about Draco disappearing... dreams about Harry driving him off-

Harry sat up straight and blinked his eyes open from the half-fog he had let himself slip into.

It was a dim memory... it had happened so many months ago. But he remembered, now, the ominous dream he had experienced just before his return to Hogwarts. The dream in which he had let Draco go... had let him leave, despite his every yearning not to.

I drove him off, last night. I pushed him away. I let him go, just like in the dream. I didn't mean to, but I did. And now he's gone.

Harry looked up, his gaze drawn. "It's my fault," he said hollowly. Despite what Dumbledore tried to tell him, he didn’t know what Harry knew. He didn't know that Harry had dreamed about this very moment... that he could’ve prevented it.

"Harry, we don't know why Malfoy has gone missing," Hermione said, twisting her fingers agitatedly. "How can it be your fault?"

"Because I pushed him away, don't you see?" Harry shouted. "I dreamed this... the night before we took the train back to school. I let him go in the dream, and I let him go last night."

"Dreams don't mean anything, Harry!" Hermione cried.

"This one did!" Harry yelled back. "This one meant something! It came true, didn't it?"

"Harry, be rational!"

"I should've seen it," Harry berated himself furiously. "I should've known what it meant. I could have stopped it!"

"What do you mean, you let him go last night?" Ron asked. "How could you have caused this?"

"Because he-" Harry faltered. "He... he tried to kiss me. He did kiss me-"

Ron made an indiscernible noise.

"-and I pushed him back. I don't know why I did it. I didn't... I was startled. I didn't want to hurt him. But he left, and now he’s been captured. Now Voldemort's got him."

Harry slumped heavily back into the armchair, burying his face in his hands.

"But Harry, you aren't thinking sensibly right now," Hermione said after a moment. "Malfoy's only a sixteen-year-old wizard, and still in school. What would Voldemort want with him?"

Harry laughed once, weakly. "He's not an ordinary wizard, Hermione. He's a Genupaean."

"Oh," Hermione breathed softly, as everything fell into place. “That’s why you asked about them this summer.”

"He didn't want anyone to know."

"What's a Jen-you-pane?" Ron asked, looking confusedly between the both of them.

"A Genupaean, Ron," Hermione said to him. "A healer. A natural healer, one that is very powerful, and very rare."

A grin played around Ron's mouth. "Wait, so what you're saying is, Malfoy's this all-powerful healer, and that's why You-Know-Who is after him? You're having me on."

"Do we look like we're joking?" Harry snapped, and the grin faded from Ron's face.

"No, I mean, well-"

"Voldemort killed his mother to get to him," Harry said harshly.

"He killed-?" Hermione started in shock.

"He's been after him ever since they discovered that Malfoy had this power, and he decided to take matters into his own hands at the beginning of summer. He showed up at the Malfoys', ready to take what Lucius Malfoy had promised him. Malfoy's mother died to save her son. Malfoy escaped Voldemort, and McGonagall brought him to my house for the summer. He was safe there. And he was supposed to be safe at Hogwarts," Harry said bitterly.

"Harry, have you actually seen Malfoy doing any healing?” Ron ventured sceptically. “If he’s lying-”

"He’s healed me before. And he healed you last night, Ron," Harry said abruptly. "You were right, you know, the beating the Slytherins gave you really was worse than it looked. But he healed you, after I convinced him to. So don’t even question if he’s been telling me the truth, because he doesn’t deserve that. He’s different, after what happened to his mum, and after all that's happened the past few months. He’s changed.”

“You're forgetting one thing,” Hermione said quietly. "It's also because of you he's changed."

He looked at her quickly. “Because of me?”

“Because you are friends, now, and you understand each other. Because he loves you.”

Harry started. “He loves me?”

Hermione nodded solemnly. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. It’s completely obvious now.”

“But...” Harry was stunned. “Love?”

“He did, well-” Ron tried and failed to hide a snicker, “kiss you.”

“But that doesn’t mean...” Harry paused, trying to comprehend this. “He could just be confused.”

“And what about you, Harry?” Hermione asked, though with a knowing half- smile. “Are you confused?”

"I don't..." Harry shook his head. “I don’t know what I feel, or what he feels. And that doesn’t matter.”

He stood up and stared down at them resolutely. "Right now, the most important thing to figure out is how we’re getting him back."

Hermione and Ron stood too. “We’ll help you.”

***

The sky turned a deep navy blue as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. The long shadows stretched out across the rolling green plains of south-central Britain, and he brisk autumn breeze rustled the trees, stirring the leaves that had already fallen to the ground.

The cool dusk settled on the inhabitants of the area of Salisbury, Wiltshire. In a small neighbourhood, the residents closed their doors to the approaching night. Two or three of them glanced uneasily towards the enormous, dark mansion sitting atop the big hill at the edge of town.

"Time to get inside, Tommy," a mother whispered urgently to her young son. "Night is here." The boy Tommy reluctantly abandoned his toys on the lawn, and went inside his house. The mother gave one last troubled look around before shutting the door, and locking it tight.

It hadn't always been that way... not very long ago, the residents had welcomed the peaceful night. It was a relief from the hot rays of the sun. It was a time to relax, a time to forget about the worries of the day. But then summer had come, and a change grew over the land. There were murmurs of shady business suddenly occurring inside of the imposing Wiltshire Mansion. One night, a few people had witnessed foreign green flashes of light emitting from the windows, and loud screams. A day later, a small group of the community's bravest men decided to go investigate. None had returned.

Although that had happened months ago, the residents had not forgotten it. When night fell, a great feeling of inexplicable anxiety shivered over the town, and soon the inhabitants had taken to retreating inside their safe homes after the sun set. They didn't care to talk about it... nor did anyone risk reporting these feelings. What would they say? That they were frightened by the looks of a by what was probably only a harmless old building? They could only imagine what jokes the policemen would make about that. No, no one dared to do anything about this very strange and abnormal situation.

So the inhabitants of this once average, ordinary town learned to live with their nervous feelings, and life went on....

Inside the mansion, the night was complete and absolute. A cloaked shadow stood over a window on the main floor, watching the lights of the cottages click on as townspeople fled indoors.

"That's right," he murmured. "Hide. Hide like the cowards you are."

He turned from the window to gaze at the pale figure chained to a cherry wood chair. "Muggles," the shadow said callously, and the blond figure looked on stubbornly, refusing to comment.

"Filth, all of them! Every last one!" the dark figure paused. "Ah, but you already know that, don't you, Draco? Your parents have done well, drilling that into your head. You don't know how delighted I am over the fact that they were capable of doing something correctly."

Draco bristled, and looked murderous.

"Soon, with you in my service, they will get what they deserve. I can torture them, and wizards and Muggles alike, until my heart's content. Then you, with your extraordinary power, can heal them for me, and I shall be able to do it all over again. It will be quite a marvellous game to play."

He stared back out the window, and spoke quietly, almost to himself. "Muggles will fear me. Mudbloods will cower at me. Wizards will flee at the very sight of me. My Death Eaters will be immortal, with you here."

The shadow gave Draco a deliciously evil smile. "I will reign supreme. All because of you."

"You killed my mother," Draco rasped at him, tugging vainly at the chains that magically secured his arms. "It's because of you my father went to prison, and now I don't know even know where he is. You destroyed my family. And you expect me to help you?"

Voldemort smiled malevolently. "Ah, so it is your father you wish to see? Lucius," he called out, quite casually, while Draco's eyes widened.

At once, Lucius Malfoy popped into the doorway, his head bowed. "What is your bidding, my master?"

"Father?" Draco choked out in disbelief. He struggled with his bonds. "Father, help me!"

Lucius only looked on dispassionately. "You've captured him, then?" he addressed his master.

Voldemort's lip curled. "Your powers of deduction are commendable. Yes, I have him, no thanks to you or your dearly departed wife. It was Wormtail who succeeded in bringing him to me. I had him watching Hogwarts and the village of Hogsmeade. He knows all the secret passageways," there was almost a note of cold fondness in that sinister voice. "He was waiting for the right opportunity. When it presented itself, with young Draco here travelling all alone yesterday evening, Wormtail Stunned him then forced Side-Along Apparition. One of the very few things he has done right while under my command."

"Master," Lucius murmured repentantly. "Had I been here when you came... and not in Azkaban..."

"Yes, I know," Voldemort said dismissively. "But do not fear, you will have your chance to atone."

Draco stared on at the exchange in horror. "Father," he said. "You can't... after what he's done to Mother!"

Lucius made no response, his inexpressive face cloaked in darkness.

"You can't let him!" Draco yelled. "Don't you know what he's planning to make me do?! Father!"

"It will do you well to obey your master," Lucius said to his son, and Voldemort chuckled lowly.

"Obey my - I can't believe you!" Draco shouted. "I'm your son!"

"It'll only bring you to more harm," Lucius continued evenly, as though he did not hear his son, "if you do not obey."

"Fuck you," Draco snarled at his father. "Fuck you!"

"Such language for a young boy," Voldemort admonished slightly. "Lucius, you are dismissed."

Lucius bowed, and left the room. Voldemort turned once more to Draco, whose face was red with anger as he thrashed with his bonds.

"You saw your father, Draco, you got your wish. Are you satisfied?"

"Let me go," Draco growled in response.

"You are my servant now. You will do whatever it is I command you to."

"I won't," Draco spat, lifting his head defiantly. "I won't help you, either of you! I won't do this. I'd rather die."

Voldemort's eyes glinted dangerously. "Very well then," he spoke softly. "If that is your final decision."

He raised his wand.

"Imperio."

***

Night had fallen, too, over Hogwarts. Harry lay awake in bed, staring blankly at the scarlet drapery and listening to Neville's snores. His thoughts were centred solely on Draco, as they had been for the entire day. He didn't know what to do... he had no guidance, he had no leads. He felt utterly lost.

Harry shifted restlessly in his bed. How could he be expected to find rest, at a time like this?

He's gone.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, and clutched at his bed sheets with tight fists. He exhaled deeply and tried to calm himself. Nothing would be accomplished this way.

Okay, he told himself. So you don't know what to do. Either you can lay here torturing yourself with this, or you can get up and find your own solution.

Harry sat up, and pushed his covers aside. So he didn't have a convenient solution at his fingertips... well, he wasn't completely useless. He would find one, damn it. He would find one before it was too late.

He slid out of bed with a rustle, put on his robes, and padded down the stairs to the common room. There, he found Hermione still up, sitting at a desk under the glow of a bright candle in the otherwise dark room.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Harry," she acknowledged from under her usual stack of books. "I knew you wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. I wanted to be here when you decided to abandon the attempt."

Harry almost smiled. Hermione knew him well. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to help you, of course. I'm looking through the books you brought back from Lucius Malfoy's office. There may be a clue in one of them."

Harry sighed, sure that she was wasting her time. "A clue for what, exactly? Research can't solve everything, Hermione, as we've personally found out."

"A clue to Voldemort and his intentions," she said, her face uncharacteristically drawn. "And, more importantly, a way to get Draco back."

"And you think the answer's in a book?"

"Where else could it be?" she asked, sounding perfectly rational. "It's our best bet. We don't have anything else to go on."

Harry said impatiently, "If only Dumbledore would let me-"

"Let you do what? Go storm the gates of every house in Europe, calling out Voldemort's name?" Hermione asked mildly. "Don't be ridiculous. You can't go after Voldemort or Draco without a solid plan, and Dumbledore knows that as well as you do. He's only looking out for your own good."

They were distracted by a noise on the stairs, which prevented Harry from replying. Both of them glanced up to see Ron approach. "Figured you lot were down here," he said. "I heard you get out of bed, Harry. Planning to go knock down some doors on a hunt for You-Know-Who?"

"Maybe," Harry growled.

Ron sat down next to Hermione, and peered over her shoulder at the open book in front of her. "Well, good luck. We'll just be here, then."

Harry let out a hiss of frustration. "Fine, since you two won't help, I'll just have to do something myself-"

"Harry," Hermione's voice was sharp, and Ron's expression hard. "Perhaps we haven't made ourselves clear enough. We are, very much, trying to help you. But you aren't letting us."

"You-"

"Sit," Hermione said.

Harry sat.

"Now," she continued. "As I was saying, we are helping you conceive a plan to rescue Draco. And we will do so for as long as it takes. We will find him, Harry."

"Why are you calling him Draco all of a sudden?" Harry grumbled in response, feeling very annoyed at everything.

"It's his name, isn't it?" Hermione answered briskly. "Now, either you can help us... and do things this way, the right way, rather than impulsively going off by yourself and most likely doing something stupid... then maybe, just maybe, we'll find an answer. Or, alternatively, you can sit there and brood."

"I don't brood-" Harry started, then broke off and bowed his head. Thinking about whether or not he brooded brought back memories of a previous conversation with Draco, which caused something painful to twist in Harry's chest.

"All right," he said after a moment, and with a new vigour. Hermione was right. This was the only thing that could be done right now. "Let's do it."

***

They studied the material taken both from the library and from Lucius Malfoy's old office through the entire night. Before they knew it, a grey dawn filtered through the windows, it's pale light shining over the mess of books, parchments, and aged manuscripts strewn about the Gryffindor common room. Harry had finally fallen asleep around 5am, his head resting on a page of an open book entitled Abnormal Cases: A Guide.

Ron looked over to Hermione with drowsy eyes. "He's finally getting some rest," he said, gesturing to Harry.

Hermione nodded sombrely over Harry's gentle snores. "I'm glad. He was worrying himself sick all night. But we should wake him soon, and show him what we've found."

Ron's gaze wandered over the pile of promising parchments they had sorted into a pile. "Do you really think we'll find something in here?" he asked her quietly, being sure not to disturb Harry. "I mean, shouldn't Dumbledore have solved everything by now?"

"I'm sure Dumbledore's quite busy trying to keep everything in order, and everyone calm," Hermione answered steadily. "And even he doesn't have all the answers. Besides," she added, glancing at the slumbering Harry. "I think he may want us to solve this for ourselves."

Ron shook his head. "I just don't know why things can't be easy, every once in a while. Is that too much to ask?"

Hermione shared a tired smile with him. "Life is never easy, Ron. If anyone should know that by now, it's us."

With a loud snort, Harry stirred and shifted in his seat. He blinked his eyes open wearily, and looked around in confusion. He was surprised to see light filling the room; it had felt like the night would be endless.

"How long was I out?" he asked, as his eyes roamed over the grandfather clock.

"Not very long," Hermione said. "Only a couple of hours."

Harry's frowned deepened, and he sighed wearily. "It shouldn't even have been that long," he said, looking very unhappy with himself.

"Don't worry, Ron and I kept working," Hermione reassured him. She pushed over the pile of parchment and books with marked pages over to him. "Look, we've gathered all the material that looked encouraging. But we wanted to wait until you woke up until we started building a plan."

"I wanted to dive-bomb You-Know-Who with a couple of bludgers, but Hermione didn't like that idea," Ron said seriously, giving Hermione a reproachful look, which Hermione returned.

Harry, who was busy wading through the large pile of documents Hermione had given him, did not respond. His face grew more and more sullen as he shifted through the papers. "I don't see much of anything in here, Hermione. Just reference to a couple of curses... a passing reference to the Unforgivables.... history on a couple of old dark wizards..."

Hermione looked troubled. "It was the most helpful information we've come across," she told him glumly. "I didn't say it was good."

Harry leaned back in his chair and let his breath out noisily. He grabbed one of the books Hermione had marked, and leafed through it, his expression indicating his feeling that he didn't expect to find much of anything.

"There's a map of Europe in the back pages of that one... I've specified a couple of areas where Voldemort might possibly be hiding. You might want to take a look at that," Hermione told him, as she reached for another book.

"Maybe we should just go see Dumbledore," Ron said uncertainly.

"No," Harry said sharply. "No, we can't do that. He'd just tell us to stay put, and to not worry about things. He thinks he can handle it all." He skimmed through the book, pausing only when one of Hermione's markings jumped out at him. "But he can't. It's my turn, now... it's my turn to do something. And I know I can do this."

He stared absently down at a page of marked text he had stopped on. Then he sat up straight, and his eyes widened. "Hermione," he whispered. "When did you find this one?"

"Find what?" Hermione leaned over his shoulder to see what he was gaping at. "Oh, that I probably found pretty soon after you had fallen asleep. I only glanced at the title... that's a legend about a sword, isn't it? I didn't see how that could be of much use, but I marked it anyway... I thought maybe you'd want to look over it just in case... Harry, are you all right?" she gazed at him in concern, for he had grown increasingly rigid as his eyes travelled down the page. "Harry, what is it?"

Harry read from the book in response.

"The Sword of Sacred Stones is reputed to be one of the most powerful swords created. Legend holds that it was created in the ancient civilisations, and passed down through generations upon generations of warriors. Broken three times, it was finally forged anew a great wizard called Godric. The wizard placed many a great scarlet stones in the hilt, which were formed through a union of several magical elements. Godric instilled his own bravery and spirit into the stones, and it is through these sacred stones that the sword draws much of its strength."

"Hey, wait," Ron said slowly. "That's..." "It's talking about Gryffindor's sword.... Harry," Hermione said, her face flush with excitement. "That's the sword you drew from the Sorting Hat!"

Harry hushed them and continued reading: "Godric himself wielded the sword in many battles, during which it was said the sword released a strange crimson glow in the hands of the great one. The light emitting from the sword gave his allies courage, and filled his enemies with fear."

Harry looked up. "That prophecy we found," he said hoarsely. "The part about the "crimson light"... how did that go?"

Hermione recited:

"Born with the lion’s strength, the one with given grace,
he shall be the bringer of illumination.
On a night forthcoming he shall strike with the edge of crimson light,
and will vanquish the dark shadow for ever."

When she had finished, no one bothered to ask how she remembered it all. Harry only sat in silence, and Ron was staring at Harry in shock.

"Harry, mate," Ron said weakly. "It is you. That's how you'll defeat You-Know-Who. With the sword!"

"The edge of crimson light..." Harry repeated softly. "Of course... it's so simple."

"That's the answer, then," Hermione said. "The solution we've been looking for. It's through the sword that you can defeat Voldemort... just as Godric Gryffindor conquered his enemies, you can conquer Voldemort."

Harry stood up. "We have to go get that sword. It's in Dumbledore's office. We have to go now."

Hermione and Ron nodded and rose with him, leaving their materials abandoned on the table. Before they exited out the portrait hole, however, Harry stopped and suddenly turned to Hermione. "Hang on, you said you found this not long after I fell asleep?" he demanded.

Ron winced, and Hermione folded her arms resolutely, "Yes, Harry, and I know what you're going to say."

"So I won't bother pointing out, then, that you should've woken me as soon as you found this."

"First off," she said severely, "I didn't realise that we had found something this important. Second," she cut him off as he opened his mouth. "You were tired, and you needed sleep. You can't go fighting Voldemort when you're about to fall down with exhaustion," she finished sternly.

"She wanted to send a packed lunch along, too," Ron added with a smirk. "But she didn't want to give the house-elves unnecessary work, see."

"Okay, okay, I get it," Harry said impatiently. "Well it's no use arguing about it now. C'mon, we've got to get that sword, then figure out how to find Malfoy."

***

After a quick rush through the mostly deserted corridors, they reached the office and found that the password remained unchanged from the previous day. "Canary Creams," Harry said, and the gargoyle moved to let them up the winding staircase. Harry knocked impatiently at the door, but there was no answer.

"I wonder where he is?" Ron asked.

Harry frowned at the door. He gave it an experimental push with one hand, and it creaked open.

"Why would he leave it unlocked?" Hermione started in surprise.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "We don't have time to worry about it now. Let's go."

They hurried into the empty office, and Harry made straight for Gryffindor's sword, which was laying in the glass case exactly how Harry remembered it. He pushed the lid back, and gingerly lifted the sword out of its holder. It felt lighter in his hand than he recalled, but was every bit as luminous as before. Well-polished, the ruby gems glittered in the light of the morning sun, and reflected off the shiny, spinning objects scattered about Dumbledore's office.

Harry turned back to his friends. "Okay," he said quietly. "We've got the sword."

"But what about actually finding You-Know-Who?" Ron wondered. "We've no idea where he is!"

"Think, Harry," Hermione said. "Do you know of anywhere that Voldemort might've taken Draco?'

Harry thought hard, his forehead furrowing in concentration. "I don't know," he murmured mostly to himself. "He wouldn't have taken him back to graveyard he took me to after the Triwizard Tournament... that'd be the first place we look. He wouldn't have taken him to any easily reachable place like the Ministry..." He looked up hopelessly. "He could be on the other side of the world, for all we know," he said, frustrated.

"You're the one person here who knows Voldemort best. Think," Hermione urged. "Try to think what he would do."

Harry thought about this. It shouldn't take too much effort to get inside Voldemort's head... he'd been there before, literally. Where would Voldemort be keeping Draco? Abruptly, an idea occurred to him.

"There is one place..." Harry said slowly. "One place that Voldemort knows would cause Malfoy the most pain being there." He met Ron's and Hermione's eyes. "Voldemort would take him back home. To the place his family was destroyed, piece by piece."

"That makes sense," Hermione said. "It sounds like it's our best lead."

"All right," Harry said, mentally steeling himself. The time had come now, for him to finally face Voldemort. He drew a deep breath and tried to calm himself. "All right. I'm going to go. You two stay here and-"

Indignant interjections by Ron and Hermione cut him off mid-sentence. "What do you mean, stay here?"

"You can't go off doing this on your own!"

"You're mad, absolutely bonkers-"

"No - you guys can't come with me. I have to do it myself!" Harry raised his voice to be heard over them.

"If this is some loony idea you've got in your head about heroics, Harry, you can just bloody ignore it," Ron said fervently. "Because we're coming with you."

"You're not listening to me," Harry said angrily. "No, Ron - I'm serious. I have to do it alone."

"Harry," Hermione said distraughtly. "Why?"

"Because that's the way it's always been. It's always been about me and Voldemort. Me against him. Alone. And nobody can help me with it."

"But how can you possibly know that?" Hermione said.

"Listen..." Harry faltered. He had tried to think of a way around it, but there was none. He had to tell them, or else they'd never understand. "About the prophecy..."

"The one about the sword, yes, we know about that, Harry-"

"No, no, no," he waved off Hermione's reply impatiently. "Not that one. The other prophecy, made just before I was born."

"But that smashed in the Department of Mysteries last year," Ron said in confusion. "We saw it!"

"Dumbledore was the person who originally heard the prophecy," Harry said heavily. "He told me what it said."

"And it said you have to face Voldemort alone?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Harry said. "In the end... it'll be me or Voldemort."

"Meaning..." Ron paused. "That either you or him will... die?"

The heavy silence that filled the air answered Ron's question.

"I can't believe that there are two actual, real prophecies about you," Ron muttered. "What are the odds?"

"Apparently fate loves to pester me with these little things," Harry said cynically. He closed his eyes wearily, feeling an enormous weight on his shoulders. "Dumbledore kept saying he wanted to find a way around it," he continued quietly. "But there is none. I've always known that I'd have to face him. Nothing's changed."

"But it has! Oh, Harry," Hermione looked stricken. "We can't let you do this."

"What?" Harry felt stunned. He'd been sure that revealing this would have convinced them that this was unavoidable.

"We need to wait for Dumbledore to come back... we'll tell him what we've found. He'll know what to do," Hermione said, wringing her hands anxiously.

"But he won't know what to do," Harry said sharply. "Dumbledore doesn’t know everything, Hermione! It's up to us! We can't wait around for Dumbledore or somebody to mosey along and magically provide us with some simple solution, because there is none!"

"Harry - please listen..."

"No, you listen to me," Harry said angrily. "We can't even begin to guess what torture Voldemort is inflicting on Malfoy right now... probably even as we speak! We've waited too long already... we can't wait any more! We need to rescue him!"

"But if the prophecy says that it's going to be either you or Voldemort... we can't take that risk!"

"I don't care about the goddamn prophecies anymore! I don't care what I risk!" Harry cried. "Draco is gone! Kidnapped! I have to get him back. Because I can't take it. I can't stand feeling this way anymore," he was aware that he was bordering on hysterical, but he didn't care. He felt forlorn, chaotic... as though a huge chunk of him was missing, never to return.

"I have to get him back," he repeated desperately. "Do you not understand that?"

There was another brief silence before Ron spoke, gazing at Harry softly, "You know we do. We just want to help."

“You can help by doing this for me,” Harry said, staring imploringly at his friends. “You can help by staying behind.”

Hermione, looking sombrely back and forth between Ron and Harry, took a deep breath and finally nodded.

“Go,” Ron said brusquely. “We’ll distract anybody who might come along.”

Harry nodded, and shakily adjusted his glasses. “Keep anyone from following me for as long as you can. I’ll need as much time as I can get.”

He heaved the sword up, and moved to the fireplace. He took a pinch of Floo from the flowerpot sitting on the mantle, and tossed it into the fire.

The fire turned green, but Harry hesitated. He turned back to look at Ron and Hermione, who were standing close together. “Thank you,” he said gently.

Then, with a shout of “Malfoy Manor!” he vanished into the flames.

***

Harry tumbled out of the fireplace in the foyer of the great mansion. Coughing, and dusting the soot off his clothes, he glanced around the silent hall. He blinked several times as he realised he'd been here before... in a dream he had just before Draco had come to live at the Dursleys'. He knew now, however, that it wasn't a dream... it was real, it had happened. He stared at the circular rug at the base of a grand staircase... it was here that Draco's mother had been murdered. And... his eyes travelled to the top of the stairs, towards the balcony overlooking the room. And there, Draco had watched it all, and Voldemort had nearly captured him.

He pushed the thoughts out of his head and moved forward, carrying Gryffindor's sword at his side. He was here for different circumstances. This time, Voldemort had succeeded... he had caught Draco. And now Harry must find him before it was too late.

He drew close to a doorway on his left, and heard voices issuing from inside. It was them, it must be. He was right, Voldemort was keeping Draco hostage in his own house. He moved his right hand down to his pants pocket to draw his wand and-

"AARGH!"

Something snuck up and seized him from behind. His arms were caughtt in an iron grip behind his back, and he was roughly pushed through the doors. The sword clattered to the floor and he caught a glimpse of silver out of one eye.

"You!" he shouted at Wormtail, but the small, podgy man made no reply. Harry struggled against his grip, but Wormtail held him firm.

"Harry Potter," a high voice came from just in front of him. "What a... pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this visit?"

Harry saw Voldemort standing regally in the centre of a large sitting room, ornately decorated. He was cloaked in black, and standing at his side was... "Malfoy!" Harry shouted. He kicked at Wormtail behind him, fruitlessly trying to free himself.

Draco calmly looked on, his arms crossed and buried in the folds of his dark cloak. He stared at Harry disinterestedly.

"Malfoy?" Harry said again. Why was he just standing there? Why wasn't he trying to run away or help Harry?

Voldemort chuckled. "Ah, I understand. You decided to come for the boy. An unwise decision on your part, I'm afraid."

"What have you done to him?" Harry bellowed.

"I have done nothing. It was he who came to me," Voldemort stepped forward and placed a grisly hand on Draco's shoulder. Harry cringed, but Draco only continued to stare with dull eyes.

"Draco was only biding his time," Voldemort's mouth curved maliciously. "Once he heard that his father had escaped, he wasted no time crawling back to his rightful place."

No... Harry couldn't believe it. Voldemort was lying, he must be. It couldn't be true. It couldn't possibly be true....

But then why wasn't Draco responding to him?

"You see, Potter, all of this was merely an unanticipated delay. I got my Genupaean after all. And what a powerful tool he shall be. Anyone else would feel honoured to be in his place."

"You're lying," Harry said viciously. "He'd never join you."

"And yet, here he is," Voldemort looked delighted. "And here you are, Potter. Quite unexpected, I might add.... I have to ask myself - why did you come all this way merely for the young Malfoy boy?"

Voldemort's stare penetrated deeply into Harry. Recognising what the Dark Lord was trying to do, Harry looked away and tried to shut his mind. No... get out of my mind. Get out of my mind!

"Poor Potter... it seems we need to brush up on our Occlumency skills, don't we?" Voldemort said. "I see it now... I understand your thoughts. Did you honestly think you were friends with him, Potter? Of course you did. Always so noble, and willing to befriend anything that crosses your path."

"He is my friend," Harry shouted. "I know you've done something to him to make him like this. Release him!"

"So unwilling to accept his betrayal... so like your parents. Perhaps if they had not been so blind, they would have foreseen Wormtail's betrayal to them. Such a pity you couldn't learn from their mistakes."

But Harry would not be taken in by taunts of his parents. Voldemort was wrong... he had to be wrong. Harry understood Draco now... they understood each other more deeply than even the best of friends did. He knew that Draco would never willingly serve there person who had single-handedly shattered his family, and very nearly destroyed his life. But more than that, he knew that Draco would also never betray him, Harry, that way.

Harry stared desperately at Draco... silently begging him to respond... make some sort of motion... anything! But Draco did not move... his eyes glazed over as he gazed blankly at nothing.

This was wrong... it was unnatural for someone to be standing so still, so blank. Harry's eyes widened and he realised what was going on.

"You have him under Imperius," Harry said, his voice as hard as steel. His shoulders shook as he fumed silently. He elbowed his captor solidly, but despite making a pained sound, Wormtail did not ease his tight hold.

"Do I?" Voldemort said, sounding as though he was only indulging Harry now. "I hadn't realised."

"Let him go!" Harry demanded.

Voldemort smirked. "Why? Because you say so? I believe it's about time, young Potter, that you learned your place." Voldemort rolled back his sleeve and touched a long finger to his left forearm. Behind him, Wormtail hissed in pain and involuntarily withdrew. Harry took advantage of this to yank out of his grip.

Around Voldemort, half a dozen Death Eaters instantly Apparated into the room. Harry dodged Wormtail as the round man made a grab for him. The Death Eaters circled around Harry in a sinister way, and he was trapped.

"That's all right, Wormtail, let him go," Voldemort said, eyeing Harry deviously. "He'll soon get what is coming to him. It's time he learns to not meddle in my affairs."

"Let Malfoy go!" Harry shouted again.

"And give up my prize, which I have rightfully claimed?" He smiled evilly at Draco, and anger coursed through Harry at the sight. Voldemort looked at Draco as if he were a pet... as though he owned him. It made Harry sick with hatred.

"He's not yours to claim!"

Voldemort only laughed, and Harry pulled out his wand, and trained it on the Dark Lord. His breath was coming in hurried gasps. Now was the time... he had to do it. He had to finish it.

“Avada Kedavra!” he shouted.

And miraculously, to Harry’s surprise, a jet of pure green energy erupted from his wand. His exhilaration ended as quickly has it had come, however, when the green light fizzled out just as it reached Voldemort.

No, Harry’s mouth worked silently, while Voldemort looked on amusedly.

“Little Potter has learned the Unforgivables, has he? Terrible luck! The Killing Curse didn’t work on me when stronger wizards than yourself cast it, Potter! You shouldn’t have expected it to work now!”

“Avada Kedavra!” he tried again. He was shouting himself hoarse. “Avada Kedavra!”

It hadn’t worked. Voldemort was still alive.

Okay, he thought rapidly. Avada Kedavra isn't right. What else can I do?

But he couldn‘t come up with an answer. The situation was out of his control. His attention turned once more to Draco. The most paramount thing to do now was getting them both out of here... away from Voldemort’s clutches.

“Malfoy!” he tried again, trying to get through to him. But Draco showed no sign that he had heard him. He remembered, with a sinking feeling, Draco telling him once that he was hopeless at Imperius, and had not been successful under the fake Moody's tutelage at throwing it off.

"Malfoy, please." He felt terribly frightened right now... more scared than he had been when Cedric had fallen dead to the ground. More horrified than his battle with the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters at the Ministry last year, and more desperate than when he had seen Sirius fall through the veil. He was frightened for Draco's life. He had to rescue him... had to find some way to get him back. Draco meant too much to him to be lost like this.

Then, all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, and suddenly Harry was overcome by a realisation. The worry he had felt when he realised Draco had been abducted... the sensation of loss which had threatened to overtake him... it was all connected. It was something he must have felt for a long time, but was too thick to recognise it.

Right now, the idea of Draco Malfoy loving him did not seem quite so foreign. Draco, as usual, had picked up on things ahead of Harry. Harry could, now, place the jumble of confused feelings he had been experiencing into something concrete. He could at last translate his feelings into words.

And he knew now that he felt a profound love for Draco in return.

“Malfoy... Draco, come back. Listen to me... I'm sorry for what I did... for pushing you away. I didn't mean it. You took me by surprise."

Something glimmered in Draco's eyes, and Harry knew he was getting through to him. "You can do this. Throw it off," he pleaded, while Voldemort only cackled gleefully.

"You're wasting your time, Potter! My Imperius spells are the strongest of any wizards’. And I know this one inside and out... my faithful servant Crouch, while he was still in my service, was sure to tell me everything about the boy’s little difficulty in defying Imperius. It‘s no use!”

Harry tried to ignore Voldemort’s taunts. Draco had made a movement in Harry's direction... but then, with a slightly confused expression on his face, he withdrew back into Voldemort's shadow. He was fighting it... he was getting close.

"Please... I know you can hear me in there. You're strong, Draco... stronger than you think. Draco, please believe me,” Harry pushed further. “Come back to me. I love you."

He didn’t care that the Death Eaters or the Dark Lord himself were in the room to hear it. He was barely aware of the black-robed figures mocking and jeering him. His full attention was on Draco.

"Love? Love is not strong, Potter!” Voldemort’s shrill voice cut into him “Love is for the weak! For those afraid to embrace hate and power!”

But that wasn’t right. It was just the opposite. With his admission, he felt a cathartic release of his dark emotions. The hate was leaving him, and this newly discovered love surged within him.

"I love you," he said again, the words giving him strength.

Draco shook his head slightly, and stumbled back. "Potter?" he said weakly. Harry let out a strained breath he didn't even know he had been holding... Draco had thrown it off. He was free.

"What?" Voldemort stared disbelievingly at Draco and his failed curse. "No!"

He turned his murderous gaze onto Harry now. "I've had enough of you, Potter!" he screamed at him. "It's time to end it!"

<>, Harry thought. Yes it is.

"Stay there!" he shouted to Draco, to keep him out of harm's way.

He understood now, in this sudden clarity, why any curses, including his attempted Avada Kedavra, thrown against this dark presence would not work. He had been led astray for so long by his own determination to do the right thing... too blind to see that fighting fire with fire would only make the flames grow. He'd been going about things the wrong way. Dark spells would only drive the night deeper and fuel the dark energy sustaining Voldemort. It is only the opposite force that could put out this blazing inferno.

Only light can vanquish him. The light cancels out the dark.

Harry inhaled deeply and let his anger completely withdraw. Feelings of love and trust and blissful rapture consumed him.

He spied Gryffindor’s sword laying forgotten in the doorway. It felt like kilometres away, behind the robes of the many Death Eaters in the room... had the number grown? The room suddenly seemed to be filled with them. But it didn’t matter whether there were two or two thousand dark wizards and witches filling the space. He would defeat all of them.

He lifted his wand. "Accio Sword!"

Voldemort laughed evilly. "Pitiful boy! You think a little sword can save you now?"

The sword soared through the air, and into his hand. He closed his fingers around the cool grip, and Harry felt strengthened... reassured.

Voldemort raised his wand menacingly. "Now young Potter," he said, his voice low with anticipation. "You will die."

Voldemort drew his arm back, and when he spoke, his voice was powerful and strong. "Avada Kedavra!"

A flood of green light poured from his wand and shot towards Harry. Almost entirely out of reflex, Harry ducked and brought Gryffindor's sword up to block it. Harry prepared himself for the assult of speeding death, but the deadly energy sizzled against the sword, and dissipated into the air. Harry felt the noxious residue of the spell burn his skin and darken his vision.

Voldemort staggered with surprise. He tried again, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The jet of lethal light came for Harry, but once more the sword blocked its way. Harry's legs wobbled as the after-effects enfolded him again. The edge of his vision blurred. The sword glowed, emitting a strange red energy. The Death Eaters yelled with fear and tried to retreat from their positions in the circle.

"Remain in your places!" Voldemort shrieked at them.

Harry looked at the glowing sword in his hand. The prophecy was true. This was the way to destroy Voldemort. The only way... the right way.

Voldemort lifted his wand to try the curse again, but before the words could spill from his lips, Harry sprinted forward and ran Voldemort through the chest with Gryffindor's sword. Voldemort screamed, his shrill cry piercing the air and vibrating the very walls around them. His pale face contorted into a mask of pain as the might of the sword unleashed itself, draining out of him what little life that remained.

Voldemort collapsed into a heap, his figure withering and screaming horribly. A powerful force gathered around Voldemort, encasing his diminished form in a bright blue sphere. It grew in intensity and vividness, a swirling mass of evil energy. Then it was released, and the force of it knocked Harry to the ground. Shockwaves rolled over Harry, and rippled endlessly into the shadows.

When the energy had exhausted itself, all that was left of Voldemort was a smoking pile of black robes on the floor. The red glow from the sword, now brighter than ever, had filled the entire room, and the Death Eaters were shouting, fleeing in every direction.

Harry only caught the glimpse of Draco running toward him, and heard the dim noises of many pops around him, before he blacked out.

*

Post author's note: If anyone needs to refer back to the dream Harry had before Hogwarts, it is at the end of chapter 9. An element of that also plays into the epilogue, so you may want to do so.