The Touch Of Your Shadow

Part one – “Don’t Speak”

---

You make me sad, you make me strong,
You make me mad, you make me long for you
You make me live, you make me die,
You make me laugh, you make me cry for you
 
Celine Dion & Pavarotti; “I Hate You Then I Love You.”

 
More than anything in the world he wished it would stop hurting.
 
When he opened his eyes in the morning; blinking fuzzily at the sunlight streaking across the dull, white ceiling he’d have a few moments of bliss. A few euphoric moments where he would remember nothing and it would be simple bliss – a personal arcadia. Then the memory would come flooding back and it hurt. Not an obvious physical pain but a throbbing, mental pain that burnt him from inside out.
 
Sighing, he scratched his nose and sat up; fumbling for his glasses. Sliding them onto his nose he yawned and pushed away the blankets that he was currently entangled in. Making no attempts to move his gaze lingered on the small room; his small pile of belongings in the corner.
 
He’d managed to stay at the Dursleys for… what was it? Four or five weeks? However long it was, it was too long. With nothing to do in that house that wasn’t done alone, Harry found himself increasingly left alone with his own thoughts. He’d found in those long, dreary weeks that he wasn’t much company at all. On his fifteenth birthday, he just packed up his trunks and left the Dursleys. They hadn’t tried to stop him at all, but that hadn’t surprised the young wizard much. After a tiring journey on the Knight Bus, throughout which Stan Shunpike insisted on calling him Neville still, he’d arrived in London.
 
Harry paused; frowning at the banging noises from down the hall. The band three rooms down must be practising again… Typical… Sighing, he got to his feet; resigning himself to the fact that he would be spending most of the day out and about again.
 
He’d contemplated just staying in Diagon Alley like he did before his third year at Hogwarts. Reason had crept into his thoughts seconds after he’d thought about this and he realised it wouldn’t be a good idea. The sidelong curious glances he’d received and furtive whispers that followed him while he made a brief stop in Diagon Alley convinced him otherwise. He stayed long enough to withdraw some money from his Gringotts’ account and have it exchanged into muggle money; enough to last him the remaining weeks. Of course he’d have to risk going back into Diagon Alley for his school supplies, but hopefully the increased number of shoppers during the last week of the holidays would make it easier to hide in the crowd.
 
Miserably passing a hand through his coarse, unruly hair he slipped on the cleanest of his shirts, making a mental note to take his clothes to the petite launderette on the corner later, and making sure he had his key he left the tiny bed and breakfast room. He padded gently down the hallway; his feet treading the worn floorboards carefully – the aging wood painfully obvious through the thin threadbare carpet that barely covered it. Wincing as he passed room 31,where sounds were now issuing that reminded Harry of the time Dudley tried to play a violin and sounded like a strangled cat, the lanky under-aged wizard turned the corner and slipped down the narrow stairway.
 
Earning himself a disapproving glance from the landlady, who at the moment was sat behind the reception desk filing her painfully-short fingernails, Harry slid out of the front door; flattening his fringe down nervously as he slid out onto the dirty pavement. The landlady had immediately become endeared to him, saying he remind her of her Charlie who was lost in the war. She disapproved strongly of his habits of being out all hours and skipping the one meal the place provided; making sure his breakfast was saved.
 
This small act of kindness hurt Harry too. No-one should be kind to him at all, he didn’t deserve it, not after… Harry found his chest tightening and squeezed his eyes shut to try and stop the burning feeling. Stopping on the edge of the curb, his eyes slid open and he crossed the side-street and made it onto a more central road.
 
A flutter caught his attention, and the sight of a white bird flying overhead made his head spin for a moment. He’d sent Hedwig to Sirius for the rest of the summer; stating that the Dursleys didn’t want the owl in their house and that he wasn’t allowed to receive any more mail over the summer apart from the course list.
 
Harry felt incredibly bad at lying to Sirius of all people, knowing his gentle godfather was the last person in the world to deserve it, but he comforted himself with the fact that he would be able to explain fully later.
 
The bird overhead was just an errant seagull and he shook his head at his own stupidity; pressing onwards.
 
Five minutes later he’d made it to his destination; a quiet café on the corner of Allan Street. The café was small, cheap and cheerful; but its main asset was that the food it served was not drowned until several litres of greasy pig fat like the so-called edible food at the Bed and Breakfast. Harry pushed the door open; noting that the flimsy tables were quite full today and he made his way over to the counter.
 
“Hello James, the usual?”
 
Harry tossed a small, fatigued smile at the brunette who was working the till and taking orders. She’d served Harry every morning for the past couple of weeks and she was really nice once you got past the fact she looked like a combination between Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode – a definite contributor to the fact that looks didn’t matter.
 
“Yes, thanks Breeze,” Harry said softly; passing over the money and retiring to his usual table in the corner that was thankfully empty. Flattening his hair self-consciously over his forehead again he smiled curtly at Breeze as she bustled over with a plate of toast, marmalade and a glass of orange.
 
“Have a nice day,” she said; grinning before she literally bouncing back to the counter to serve someone else who’d just entered the café.
 
Harry managed another tight smile before staring wordlessly at the food; fingering one of the re-heated slices of toast empty of any sense of hunger. Taking a small cautious bite of the cardboard tasting toast, his thoughts began to wander again.
 
He knew it was highly unlikely he’d run across any wizard this far away from the wizarding quarter of London, but knew the possibility was still there; accordingly he’d been calling himself James. Not too far from the truth, but not an outright lie either. Anyway, he doubted half of the people in the back streets of London called themselves by their real names either. Breeze herself had proved this theory to a point when she revealed her real name was Wilhelmina. Mind you, as Harry had reflected at the time, most people called Wilhelmina would probably want to be called something a little shorter.
 
He couldn’t wait to get back to school. Sure some people would be poisoned against him, but as a whole he knew most of them would trust Dumbledore that last summer’s events had been on the whim of Lord Voldemort. Outside of Hogwarts, though, most people deigned to believe the rumours… And the press…
 
He’d been naïve enough to think that with the capture of Rita Skeeter that the damaging newspaper articles would stop. However, Cedric’s death had caused the other unscrupulous journalists to appear out of the woodwork and events had been mangled completely. The Ministry had tried their best; officially Harry was innocent. This didn’t stop the majority of people believing the Boy Who Lived as responsible for the murder of an innocent.
 
Recent reports in Wizarding Weekly declared him a danger to society and that the increasing pain in his scar and bad behaviour declared him guilty of all the misdeeds during the Triwizard Tournament. Even the Daily Prophet chipped in its Galleon’s worth; stating that it was possible (and believed as such by the staff of Daily Prophet) that Harry had murdered Cedric in an attempt to gain attention and that the idea of he-who-shall-not-be-named returning was preposterous nonsense.
 
His appetite starting to return, Harry doggedly tried to down the rest of the cardboard toast; smothering it with the nauseatingly sweet runny ‘jam’. Three weeks till he returned to Hogwarts. The thought was comforting.
 
Harry was startled back to reality by a clunk of cutlery and the blur of colour as someone took the seat opposite him. Quickly pushing his hair down over his forehead he risked a quick glance upwards and almost fell out of the feeble plastic chair with shock.
 
“Shocked to see me Potter?”
 
Harry’s mouth worked soundlessly; staring uncomprehendingly at the silver eyes that were trained on his, the mussed blonde hair and the amused expression on the pointed, pale face.
 
“Malfoy?”
 
Harry tried to keep his voice down; Breeze had tossed him a curious look and he didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention. Harry’s bug-eyed expression seemed to satisfy the lithe Slytherin and he rocked backwards on the chair; leisurely leaning against the insubstantial back and picking at the scrambled eggs on the plate he’d placed down.
 
“Seen you coming in here every day. Thought I’d give you a shock,” Malfoy said; raising his eyebrows slightly as if his actions were commonplace and to be expected. Harry blinked violently.
 
“Right,” he said softly; his tone troubled as he stubbornly lowered his gaze the glass of orange juice.
 
“Ah, Potter, the ever- suffering martyr,” Malfoy said silkily; his hands busy with the food on the table but his gaze still on Harry. Harry felt the grey eyes burning; trained on him and the feeling disturbed him.
 
“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” He asked finally; irritated.
 
Malfoy raised on eyebrow; raising a forkful of the egg to his mouth before pulling a face and spitting it out into a napkin. “Gods, Potter, this stuff is awful how can you stand it?”
 
Harry blinked wordlessly at his rival; confused and perplexed more than anything else. “You could always leave,” he said pointedly.
 
Malfoy shrugged this off as he settled on sipping at the lukewarm dark brown liquid that the café called coffee but tasted more like sewage. “You’ve completely upset the entire wizarding world.” He looked at Harry over the edge of the mug. “You do realise that, don’t you?” He cast a disdainful look around the place; raising an eyebrow at Breeze’s curious glance. “Mind you, I guess you wouldn’t be hanging out in this dive if you didn’t.”
 
Despite the nonsensically of Malfoy’s presence, Harry couldn’t help but notice the bland tonality of the others voice and immediately his suspicion was aroused. “Malfoy…” Harry warned softly; his voice hitching and he realised why he was feeling so uneasy. Even on a muggle playing field where he’d always assumed he’d have the upper hand over Malfoy, he was getting annoyed at how exasperatingly self-assured the other boy was.
 
“Look, Potter.” Harry noticed absently that Malfoy was clutching the edges of the table; his knuckles a brilliant white colour. “I don’t believe that you had anything negatively to do with Diggory’s death. I don’t believe you have the brains to pull off a stunt like doing it yourself and hoodwinking Dumbledore that you’re innocent.”
 
“Thanks,” Harry snorted. “Look, if you want to hurt me just hit me and then scram. I really could do with being on my own right now, and frankly you being here defeats that purpose.”
 
An irritated sigh floated over from the opposite side of the table. Malfoy pushed back the table leaving the remnants of his meal on the table. “Fine. If you don’t want to help prove your innocence and the guilt of those responsible, then fine.” Malfoy’s gaze lingered on Harry’s face for a second before snapping away.
 
Harry watched dully as the slender, black-clad youngster gracefully slid out of the café; eyes darkened and lowered. Breeze wandered over; using the excuse of clearing the table as a pretext for talking to Harry.
 
“Wow, he was cute who was he?” The brunette made a halfhearted attempt to clean the table as she waved a blue and white cleaning cloth over it. Harry caught the faint whiff of a strong, citrus-scented surface cleaner and he wrinkled his nose. “A boyfriend?”
 
Harry stared at Breeze; a blush rising uncomfortably. “An enemy,” he said softly; frowning. “I think.”
 
“I’ve seen him in here before. Been watching you, he has, with that batty old landlady at that b ‘n’ b you’re staying at. Not like you’d notice; you never notice anything! That pair is weird, I overheard that blond cutie calling the lady Sirius I mean… Ain’t that a weird name! I thought her name was Agatha and all – where you going?”
 
Breeze stared in complete bewilderment as Harry pushed back the chair and fairly legged it out of the café. She stared in shock and gaped before an impatient cough reminded her that she had customers.
 
“Well I never,” she whispered; before shrugging and taking the next lot of orders.

Don't speak
I know just what you're saying
So please stop explaining
Don't tell me 'cause it hurts
Don't speak
I know what you're thinking
I don't need your reasons
Don't tell me 'cause it hurts

* * * * *

His thoughts were in complete turmoil as he ran along the street; his breath ragged and his heart thudding against his chest powerfully. Everything was completely twisted and broken and burned… His entire perception of his limited world was destroyed and quickly being replaced by a mess of suspicion and complete perplexity. As he thudded around the corner he almost shrieked as an arm grabbed out from the shadows and stilled him.
 
“Do you want to attract more attention to yourself?” Malfoy hissed. Harry wordlessly shook his head. “Fine. Follow me.”
 
Harry blinked; more than shocked that he was following anything that Draco Malfoy of all people was saying. The knowledge that his godfather was somehow entangled in this web of deceit, lies and confusion was enough to lead him on. It didn’t even enter his head that it could all be a complete trap; an idea that disturbed Harry later on when his mind flashed over the events.
 
Malfoy silently walked next to him; eyes clouded over and gaze lowered to the pavement. He looked troubled and, Harry noticed, looked quite haggard – like he hadn’t slept in a few days.
 
“Are you all right?”
 
Malfoy seemed shock by the quiet question from the lithe creature by his side. He blinked. “I’m… a little confused to how I got into this mess.”
 
“Tell me about it,” Harry said; passing one hand absent-mindedly through his coarse shock of black hair as he kept up pace with the taller boy. Then he frowned. “I just came from here.” Harry blinked up at the entrance of the Bed and Breakfast, the faded blue sign “B ‘n’ B! Cheap rates! Single and double rooms!” hanging precariously over the door.
 
“Really,” Malfoy deadpanned, pinning Harry with a curious gaze before pushing open the door. Harry flushed uncomfortably again. Breeze had said Malfoy had been watching him in the café, with the landlady, so the fact that they were heading back to the Bed and Breakfast shouldn’t have surprised him.
 
Feeling more than embarrassed and completely out of control of the situation, Harry followed Malfoy; his thoughts in complete turmoil and disorder.
 
Malfoy lead him quietly up the narrow, rickety staircase and Harry dimly registered the fact he was leading him up to his own room. He stopped outside the door; an expression of almost pain on his face from the raucous noises from the room down at the end of the corridor.
 
“Well?”
 
Harry frowned at Malfoy. “Well, what?”
 
“Don’t you have a key, or what?”
 
Harry’s eyes narrowed at the impetuous blond and he scowled as he fumbled for the key. Sliding the rusty hunk of metal into the hole he gave it a tug and then frowned. Malfoy noticed the frown and sighed.
 
“What’s wrong now?”
 
Harry got the impression that whatever Malfoy had gotten himself involved with, that a lot of things had been going wrong.
 
“It’s already open,” Harry whispered gently.
 
Malfoy gave an irritated grunt. “Well it’s not my fault that you didn’t lock it.”
 
“I did.”
 
Harry’s quiet exclamation stopped Malfoy and his expression changed from a faintly annoyed one to an extremely concerned one. Eyes narrowing, Malfoy quickly pushed Harry to the side and pushed the door open. It swung open and Harry gasped. The bedding was strewed across the floor and the dirty laundry was strewn halfway across the small room.
 
“My, Potter, remind me never to let you tidy my room.”
 
Harry felt a short stab of annoyance and stared flatly at the blond. “It wasn’t like this when I left it.” Annoyed he rested his hand on his forehead. “I can’t think what they were looking for.”
 
“Neither can I,” Malfoy declared; although Harry privately thought he looked a little shifty; as if the blonde knew something but wasn’t letting on. “You didn’t leave your wand or anything? If someone suspected you were a wizard, they might have… I mean, wands – especially those made by Ollivander – are highly prized on the wizarding black market.”
 
Harry raised his eyebrows. “And you’d know this… No wait, after those people you know in Knockturn Alley I wouldn’t be surprised.”


It was Malfoy’s turn to look surprised now. “But…” He frowned. “How do you…”
 
Harry smiled softly as he pushed his way into the room; starting to clear up the devastation. It honestly looked like some kind of whirlwind had hit it. “The first time I took Floo powder I ended up in Knockturn Alley, the same time as your dad was selling off half of his Dark Arts stuff…” Harry’s voice hitched on the last part of the sentence and bile rose to his throat. Lucius Malfoy could have very well been the faceless crony that had uttered the fateful words that had snuffed out Cedric’s life just like it was… Just like it was nothing. Feeling sick and dizzy all of a sudden, he swayed on his feet gently and was only faintly aware of supporting hands firm on his hips.
 
“Come on, Potter, there aren’t dementors around, you aren’t supposed to faint.”
 
“Very funny,” Harry said weakly; dropping onto his bed. Suddenly he frowned and dug under the mattress; coming up with a small envelope filled with muggle money. “Well that settled it. Whoever raided my room was a wizard.”
 
“Or witch,” Malfoy said helpfully; sliding the door closed and leaning against it. “How did you figure that one out?”
 
Harry waved the envelope at Malfoy and the blond blinked at the cash. “They left your money…” Malfoy frowned; pondering the significance of it. His mouth dropped open in a wordless ‘oh’. “You mean if a muggle had done it, they would have taken your money?”
 
Harry nodded dully.
 
“Well I suppose muggles have to have some kind of hobby,” Malfoy reflected; shrugging. Harry rolled his eyes; the Slytherin, smart though he appeared to be at times, did not get the concept that muggle money and wizard money had the same theory behind them.
 
“Breeze said that you were hanging around with the landlady and you were –“
 
“Breeze said?” Malfoy interrupted; his eyebrows arched in bafflement and humour.
 
Harry glared at Malfoy; folding his arms over his chest before untangling them to push up the sleeves of the overly large red and blue checked shirt further up his arm. “The waitress at the café,” he said; annoyed at being interrupted.
 
“”I thought her name was Agatha, on pet names are we?”
 
Harry scowled at Malfoy’s light teasing. “Can it, blondie. Anyway, she said you were with the landlady a lot.”
 
Malfoy’s manner abruptly changed and he suddenly seemed colder; brusquer. He nodded curtly. “Get what you can salvage from here, we need to get a move on. I think he’s already gone.”
 
Harry was going to protest that he would never rationally take an order from Draco Malfoy when the seriousness of his tone hit him, and the use of the word him that inspired dread in Harry.
 
-That pair is weird, I overheard that blond cutie calling the lady Sirius I mean…-
 
Breeze’s words floated back to Harry and he nodded. Casting a look around the room, he threw on another of the overlarge shirts, stuffed his envelope of money into his pocket, made sure he had his wand secure and nodded at Malfoy. The blond stared at him impassively before opening the door and sliding outside.
 
They made it halfway down the hallway before the music stopped with a final crashing sound and Malfoy stopped still in his tracks.
 
“Harry,” Malfoy whispered urgently; stopping still. Harry stopped instantly; dark eyebrows arched in incomprehension.
 
“What?” Harry asked; confused.
 
“Is there any other staircase out of this building?” Malfoy’s voice was hushed; Harry had to strain to hear the trembling tone.
 
“Just that one,” Harry whispered back cautiously. “There’s always the fire escape staircase outside the window in my room.”
 
“Then I suggest that particular exit,” Malfoy said quickly; his face deathly pale. Suddenly the door crashed open and a loud screaming noise filled his mind. Instinct almost made him whip out his wand but reason kicked in – he didn’t want to be expelled for underage magic use. Malfoy grunted impatiently and tugged on Harry; the raven-haired teenager seemed limp under the fixing gaze of the Dementor as it snarled and advanced towards them. The impatient tugging at his arm snapped him into action and he quickly turned and ran; trying to block out his parents’ deaths replaying in his ears as Malfoy broke open the door again and tugged him inside; slamming the door shut and with Harry’s help pulling the bed against it. Harry gasped; his breathing shallow as Malfoy flung open the window; the frame rattling. Harry seemed almost frozen again but the growling and now human shouts at the door as something began blasting and thudding into the door stirred him into action and he swung himself out of the window after Malfoy.
 
He quickly thudded down the steps; keeping up with the black blur that was Malfoy; his head jerking upwards in shock as a huge tremendous explosion sound filled the still alley and a huge dark face threw itself through the open window; howling hollowly.
 
“Come on,” Malfoy hissed. Nodding in sheer terror, Harry nodded and together the pair raced through the back alleys; Harry felt his head pounding and blood rushing through his veins. His head ached just being so close to the Dementor and his heart ached from the sheer experience of hearing his parent’s murder again.
 
Blindly following Malfoy, he was aware of the lack of oxygen to his brain and he felt lightheaded and dizzy. He was more than thankful when Malfoy pulled him into one of the big shopping areas and they were finally able to slow down as they lost themselves in the crowd.
 
Slowing to a slow walk; Harry desperately tried to bring his heartbeat down. “What the hell was that all about?” Harry tried to ask; his head still pounding unmercifully.
 
“You don’t know what’s been happening,” Malfoy said; his tone guardedly quiet as he steered the scrawny black-haired teenager along. Harry had the faint idea that Malfoy knew where he was going and was strangely reassured by that fact.
 
“Well I won’t if you tell me,” Harry said; trying not to sound too accusatory. Malfoy sighed.
 
“I can’t tell you much here,” he hissed; indicating the surrounding area semi-helplessly. “But of the dementor… Well, you were right… He-who-shall-not-be-named is fully back to power, and partly thanks to you so I have heard…”

Harry acknowledged it with a sudden downcast look and was startled when Malfoy gripped his jaw with one commanding hand. “Hey,” Malfoy said; his voice uncharacteristically soft. “It’s not your fault.” Harry stared at him disbelievingly. “Don’t credit yourself with such a powerful act,” Malfoy added. Harry snorted. –That- was more what he was expecting from the scathing and tempestuous blond. Then Malfoy’s face became curiously guarded again. “Azkaban’s unguarded. The Dementors have returned to you-know-who- and several high priority prisoners have escaped – the Lestranges for one…”
 
“What?” Harry flushed as he realised his volume was a little too high and he tossed an apologetic glance in Malfoy’s direction. The Slytherin rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shrugged to the bystanders who had heard Harry’s outburst.
 
“Come on,” Malfoy muttered; pulling him out of the way and they left the vivacious shoppers behind.

‘You know I'd fight for you
But how could I fight
Someone who isn't even there?
I've had the rest of you
Now I want the best of you,
I don't care if that's not fair.’

O-Town; “All Or Nothing”

---

It must have been a good twenty minutes and Harry had the distinct feeling he’d been walking for hours when Malfoy suddenly stopped. Harry looked around expectantly. They’d left the shopping district behind five minutes ago and were now on a wide street of terraced houses; identical red doors stretching away into the distance.
 
Malfoy stared at the door and Harry looked around trying to gain his bearings.
 
“I think this is it,” Malfoy murmured under his breath; stepping forwards and rapping on the door softly. There was no reply. Harry fidgeted.
 
“They do look the same, are you sure you’ve got the right one?” Harry asked; starting to shiver a little. The wind had started to pick up and grey clouds swirled on above them; a sure sign rain was coming.
 
“I’m sure,” Malfoy snapped back, irritated; passing an impatient hand through his soft blond hair. “Unless…” A bland expression crossed Malfoy’s face which made Harry’s breath catch in his throat for a second. Malfoy set his face and pushed his hand out. The door slowly slid inwards and Malfoy’s breath caught in his throats; a strangled gasp emitting from his mouth.
 
“I’m taking it that that is not a good thing,” Harry said; a sense of foreboding dread washing over him.
 
“For once, Potter, your deductive skills are fantastic,” Malfoy muttered dryly; stepping into the house tentatively. Harry followed him; closing the door gently behind him. The snap with which the door shut with made them both jump and Malfoy shivered as he reached for a light switch. “Don’t do that,” Malfoy said; his voice thin. Harry was briefly reminded of Malfoy’s reaction to the Forbidden Forest and remembered the other’s reactions to the creaks and sounds of the ancient trees.
 
Malfoy had obviously found a working switch; the light bulb overhead spluttered into life and revealed a dark room almost in the same state as Harry’s room at the Bed and Breakfast – except her, huge slashes were gouged into the wall and chunks were missing from the faded chintz furniture. Harry swallowed.
 
“Who was here?” Harry asked; his voice filled with dread.
 
Malfoy shook his head softly; eyes downcast. “It was –“
 
Whatever Malfoy was about to say, it was interrupted by a sudden barking sound, some scratching and then a little howl. Harry’s heart slammed into his chest and he instinctively knew what the sound was and who was issuing it. Holding up a hand to silence Malfoy, the blonde stared unwaveringly at Harry; mystified. Turning around, Harry moved in the apparent direction of the sound and paused at the door of a small cupboard that was bolted shut. Reaching out, his hands trembling, Harry undid the latch and the door shot open and a dark shape shot out of the enclosed space.
 
Malfoy actually screamed out loud then had the grace to look abashed as he realised it was just a scrawny looking black dog.
 
“It’s only a dog,” Malfoy said in relief.
 
“Only a dog my arse,” Harry said; his tone slightly amused as he got to his feet. Malfoy, shocked already at the use of Harry’s language, could only stare in bafflement at the black dog. It had several large claw marks along it’s flanks; similar to the claw marks in the walls. That wasn’t the shocking thing. The blond gaped as the black dog mutated into the haggard, figure of Sirius Black.
 
“He’s an animagus?” Malfoy’s mouth dropped open and then he snapped it shut. “Go figure. Father always said you and James Potter thought you were above the rules and –“ It took the blond a few moments to realise neither Harry or Sirius were listening to him; rather staring at each other warmly. He watched as Sirius stiffly crossed the floor; hugging Harry and watched as the raven-haired wizard hugged him gently back. “You know he’s innocent? Wait, what’s going on?”
 
Harry, almost relieved that there were was someone else in this whole confused tangle of events that had no idea of what was going on, gently disentangled himself from his godfather. “He’s my godfather, Malfoy. Of course I know he’s innocent.”
 
“Oh,” Malfoy said; looking slightly abashed. “Didn’t know.”
 
“There was no reason for you to know,” Sirius said. He cocked one head to the side; his dark haired matted and past his shoulder. “Harry, I’m so glad you’re all right.”


Harry nodded dully. Malfoy frowned at the blood soaking through Sirius’ robes.
 
“How did you escape?”
 
Sirius shrugged nonchalantly; his gaze still trained on his godson. “They weren’t looking for a dog. They brought Manticores to kill us, Malfoy… I’m so relieved you weren’t here…” Malfoy’s barely visible nod showed Harry that the blond was glad he wasn’t there; Harry noticed the way Malfoy’s gaze rested on the devastation and was overwhelmingly glad that no-one was hurt. “Anyway,” Sirius continued. “They just clawed me and stuffed me in there in dog form. They’re pretty mad they didn’t get anyone.”
 
“Yeah, they were so ballistic at our end too,” Malfoy sniffed disdainfully. “They had a dementor and everything. Wrecked Harry’s room looking for –“ Here the blond fell silent. Sirius cast a brief admonishing look at Malfoy and the Slytherin shrugged at the older wizard. “He has a right to know.”
 
“A right to know what?” Harry demanded, a sense of dread rising in his chest slowly like an encompassing fire that stopped him from breathing and seemed to slow everything down. He felt Sirius take his hands as Malfoy gazed on impassively; almost impatiently.
 
“You-know-who knows that there is only one thing that could defeat him now, Harry. He’s risen again and is more powerful than he was even ten years ago.” Sirius swallowed; his dark eyes painfully trained on Harry’s own and Harry nodded painfully; urging Sirius to continue. “He knew to regain his full power he’d have to tie his power into his wand. Now as you might think, we can’t destroy him by destroying his wand. That would be too easy. But this method makes him almost invincible.”
 
“Let me guess, it’s the almost thing that gets us involved?” Harry asked; not just his head was hurting now, his entire being ached with an encompassing weariness.
 
“No.” Malfoy’s quiet statement surprised Harry and he looked up; locking gazes with the willful blonde impassively. “It doesn’t get -us- involved per se… More like…”

“It gets me involved,” Harry finished. The words hung dryly in the devastated room. Sirius nodded dully; his eyes filled with a deep pain that Harry more than understood; that he felt every single time he heard his parents’ death; every time he was reminded of the plight Sirius was in; every time he was reminded of Cedric… Harry silently pulled out his wand; staring at the darkened unblemished surface coolly. “He wants this.”