Into The Woods

*

"... even as fifth years, we suspected the incompetence of the Ministry of Magic was deliberate. It was only after the Dementors and prisoners of Azkaban joined Voldemort that the wider wizarding community realized this and Cornelius Fudge was forced from power. By the time official acknowledgement of Voldemort's return was made, a low-grade terror pervaded even Hogwarts."

"While many gratefully embraced the iron-fisted rule of the newly elected Minister Amos Diggory, the father of the first casualty in the Second Rise, I feared that his tactics - the reauthorization of Unforgivable Curses for Aurors, trials closed to press and public, Muggle-style execution of uncooperative Death Eater suspects - were as bad as those of Voldemort."

"My worst fears were confirmed when Remus Lupin, one of many supposedly 'dark' creatures confined by the ministry, was 'accidentally' pierced by a silver sword during interrogation and died of his wound."

~

*

It looked so harmless in the early afternoon sunlight. Harry had seen a lot of things - basilisks and trolls, grims and dragons - and the great green forest that stretched before him didn't rate so much as a nervous shiver. The tall, fresh-leaved maples and oaks that gathered together at the forest's edge looked almost friendly. They didn't even whomp.

Of course, by his seventh year, Harry knew better than to judge something by how it looked. Tom Riddle had once seemed to be an honest, handsome boy, but he had grown to be a snake-faced deciever, the most evil person Harry'd ever known. Cornelius Fudge had appeared as a kind, bumbling, grandfatherly old man, but he had caused more damage to the cause of the good than anyone but Voldemort himself.

Harry glanced to his right and saw his friend Ron Weasley staring up at the forest, his mouth opened slightly, his fingers clutching tightly onto a tattered maroon pack.

When you met Ron, he came off as a none too intelligent, typical teenaged boy, obsessed with Quidditch and unable to be serious about anything else. But that wasn't Ron at all. Ron was loyal, brave, and even clever, though he wouldn't admit it - and beneath that untidy mop of red hair was a mind Harry valued as much as his own.

And so Harry trusted Ron, but not the forest. Not at all. Hermione had looked it up in a book, and Dumbledore had acknowledged it. People died in there.

So of course, Dumbledore was sending them in. To the Forbidden Forest. The Forbidden Forest.

No, it didn't make sense. Making sense wasn't what Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was about.

"Guess we'd better go in, then," Ron muttered, turning to look at Harry and catching his gaze. "Ready?"

Harry nodded and together they pushed through a light layer of underbrush and started along the first path they came across.

Harry was grateful for his and Ron's earlier escapades, for the first part of their trek took them through a familiar section of the forest. A little too familiar, actually - he saw Ron's face pale when he recognized the path to Aragog's den. Ron didn't say anything, though. Just pushed on.

It was this quiet spectacle of bravery that kept Harry from reminding Ron that they were supposed to be identifying plants and animals as they went along. Ron hadn't even made an overture towards his parchment.

"I expect we'll be past it soon," Harry said, knowing what was in Ron's thoughts. Ron muttered something back, and quickened his pace. Harry was left a few steps behind, and to his own musings.

It was, Harry reflected, quite ironic that after years of being banned from the Forest they now had to travel through it on pain of failing grades. Well, that wasn't exactly true - the trip was voluntary - but most of the Professors had made it clear that anyone who was brave enough to choose the Forest was wizard enough to pass.

"Think about it, Harry," the Headmaster said. "Charms for protection, potions for endurance or sickness, transfiguration for emergencies, Astronomy for direction - and of course Herbology and Magical Creatures just for being in there." His face became thoughtful. "Although, there's really nothing for History of Magic. Ah, well, I guess we'll have to stir you up a goblin rebellion in the village."

Harry had laughed uneasily, sure there was more to it than the Headmaster was willing to say. A bit of research by Hermione showed that there hadn't been a completely hands-on exam like this in fifty years. Why should the practice just happen to resume when he, Harry Potter, made it into seventh year? Dumbledore professed ignorance, though with a twinkle in his eye.

The prospect of entering the forest grew even more bleak when Hermione did a bit of research.

"Listen to this," she said, her eyes wide with astonishment and the beginnings of fear. She read aloud from Hogwarts, A History, which was propped up in her lap. "'Sending students into the Hogwarts Forest as a test before leaving the school was common practice until the disappearance and presumed death of a student in 1945. Due to widespread concern, the tradition was ceased immediately, and further exploration prohibited. Instead, a series of individual exams called the Nastily Exhaustive Wizarding Tests was instituted."

Harry and Ron exchanged worried glances. Hermione, after taking a deep breath to calm herself, continued. "'There have been some studies as to the nature of the Forest, most notably by one Manish Sidtha, a renowned Auror-Herbologist from India. After leading an expedition into the woods he pronounced a higher concentration of agressive plants and Dark animals than nearly anywhere else in the world. Sidtha gave this reasoning: 'Hogwarts School is one of the most protected places on Earth. The magic needed to maintain the school draws magical creatures both light and dark - only the light ones take classes and the dark ones must wait in the forest, beyond the shields and charms made long ago by the founders. It is a balancing of power.'"

Harry had faced terrible things before. Not just dangerous creatures and slavering beasts, but also men - people so frightened of death they would kill their own friends to avoid it, people so hungry for power that they would sacrifice their own children to it. It was the warmth and wonder of Hogwarts that kept Harry sane through it all. Could he really travel through a place as horrible as Hogwarts was great?

On the other hand, Harry couldn't imagaine the Headmaster sending him where he might be attacked by dark wizards, so he accepted the assignment, with misgivings. His biggest was that they'd have to go in pairs. In pairs! That was an awkward night, he and Ron and Hermione sitting at the fire in the common room, knowing that they couldn't complete the last of their schooling together.

In the end, Harry asked Ron to be his partner, though he winced for his grade. He knew he would enjoy the time more if he spent it with Ron. It also freed Hermione to go with Neville, who was going to need all the help he could get. His memory problems and clumsiness grew steadily worse as the pressures on him mounted. But Neville, like Harry and Ron, was not going to let himself back down.

And so they had set off, each pair a day apart, so there would be little chance of sabotage or cheating. It made Harry nervous that Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson were only a day ahead of them, and relieved that Hermione and Neville were but a day behind.

Harry quickened his steps and caught up with his friend, trying not to trip over the grasses and tree-roots. Ron's long legs made him twice as fast as Harry, and when he wasn't paying attention, his gait made it quite hard for Harry to keep up.

"So," Harry said conversationally, though his tone was hitched as he tried to catch his breath. He thought back to something Hermione had said to him. "I imagine we're like the first wizards, walking through the primeval forest with nothing but magic to protect us."

"Yes, like the very first wizards, lugging along our Remembralls and Exploding Snaps," Ron said sarcastically. "You sound like Hermione."

Ignoring the dig - mostly because it was true - Harry asked, "You brought Exploding Snap?"

"Well, I imagine even in a big, monster-filled forest, we'll get bored. Besides, it's probably good for scaring away small animals, which is not something that can be said for my chess set."

"You didn't bring that with you, Ron?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Of course not, Harry. Though what we're going to do for, what is it, four days, is beyond me."

"Erm," said Harry. "I believe that's what the parchment and the list of plants is for."

"Oh, right," Ron said, digging into his pack. "Say, what did you bring?"

"Nothing that entertaining," Harry replied. "The supplies we're supposed to have. My Invisibility Cloak. And my wand, of course."

"What about sleeping rolls?" Ron asked.

"I figured I could just magic them."

"Harry, you dolt!" Ron exclaimed. "And what's going to keep them from disappearing once you've fallen asleep?"

Harry groaned. It was the type of mistake that Muggle-raised wizards often made for lack of wizarding instinct - although Harry would bet ten galleons that Hermione hadn't forgotten.

"I..." The prospect of sleeping on the hard, dirty ground didn't entice him - but then, it would really only be a problem once he woke up. "Eh - I'll manage."

Ron jerked a finger at his own pack, which was overflowing with a pale blue material. "I'll manage better," he joked.

"What is that?" Harry asked.

"It's a Corporating Cot. We have a couple of them back home, for when family comes to visit. You should've told me, Harry, I would've owled mum and got you one."

"What's it do?"

"You just cast a spell on it and it gets real large, big enough to sleep on, and filled with this fluffy stuff, too. It's specially made, so it doesn't go away when you fall asleep. Well - if I can make it big enough, we can share it."

"Thanks, Ron," Harry said warmly.

"No problem, mate," Ron replied, then looked away. Something caught his eyes further off into the forest. "Say, isn't that a jobberknoll?"

"Hey, I think you're right!" Harry exclaimed, surprised that it was Ron and not he who had made the first sighting. "I mean, it doesn't seem to be making any sound."

Ron had stopped to stare at the bird, a strange expression on his face. It wasn't that he seemed enchanted by the jobberknoll's dingy blue feathers, but rather he was looking past it. Harry waited a moment, watching his friend's brow furrow, until he asked, impatiently, "Yes?"

"Oh?" Ron said, as if he was being pulled back from far away. "What?"

"What were you thinking?" Harry asked.

"Just that - well, you remember the lessons. That jobberknoll won't speak 'til right before it dies, and then it's like a bloody listening charm. Wouldn't that be great for spying?"

"I wonder if Dumbledore's thought of that," Harry replied, knowing that the seemingly senile Headmaster had a mind as devious as any Weasley's. "It's a good idea."

"Yeah, 'cept you'd have to kill it," Ron replied. "I think it's more along You-Know-Who's line."

And then he turned and continued walking into the forest, unaware of the odd stare Harry was giving him. Ron had been saying things like that a lot lately - "Do you see that, Harry, we could use it against You-Know-Who!" - "Whose side do you think that porky Ravenclaw would be on?" - "Say, Harry, do you think this flobberworm would be a good weapon if You-Know-Who attacked?"

It was like Hermione, only more random and more amusing.

Ron obviously thought that he didn't help their group enough, had implied often enough that Harry had all the talent and Hermione had all the knowledge and what was he good for? He didn't say it in so many words, but his eyes did.

As Ron went ahead, Harry held back, on the pretense of looking for plants, but he was really studying Ron. Under the high forest branches, the evening sun was sparse, but where it beamed through the umbrella of leaves it seemed drawn to Ron's red head. It was almost unnatural, like there was a halo around his hair - although that was an angelic image broken up every time Ron raised his hands to his eyes and muttered about the "bloody blinding light".

It pained Harry that he could never tell what was going on in Ron's mind anymore. Back when they were younger, it was easy - he knew Ron was in love with Hermione even before Ron did. He knew when he was happy, or angry, or sad. He knew it from the way he spoke and the changing of his eyes and his mad, emphatic gestures. Harry had been confident - he knew Ron as well as he knew himself.

But then - when he thought everything was going well - Ron and Hermione had suddenly and completely broken up, and now Ron's eyes were guarded, to hide the pain, Harry guessed.

He'd always known Ron had a great poker face. He just never dreamed that he would use it on his friends.

Ron glanced back at him and threw him a lopsided grin. "Hurry up, Harry," he called. "Seamus said we'd get extra points for making it to the village early."

Harry deliberately slowed his pace, swinging his hips in a leisurely stroll. Ron laughed at him, asking between chuckles, "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Mrs. Malfoy," Harry replied. He brough his thumb and forefinger to his nose and pinched it shut, saying, "this forenst is just tooh dirty for mny taste, thag you very much."

"Seriously, though, Harry," said Ron, when his laughter subsided. "We're going to need all the points we can get."

"Wait," Harry objected. "What does Seamus know about any of this? He's taking the written test."

"Yeah, and you know why!" said Ron, grinning.

Harry blinked. "Why?"

"Don't tell me you think it's a coincidence that he and Lavender both decided to take the other test!" Ron exclaimed. "Which means you get to use ol' Hogwarts library, eat in the ol' Hogwarts dining hall, and - sleep in ol' Hogwarts conveniently empty seventh year dorms."

"What?"

Ron threw up his hands, exasperated. "If you didn't get that, Harry, I'm not going to explain it to you." Suddenly his eyebrow quirked up, a thoughtful expression coming on to his face. "I wonder what Dean and Pavarti will do with their roommates otherwise - erm, occupied."

" - oh," Harry blushed. Part of him was furious with himself - honestly, he was seventeen years old, he shouldn't be embarassed by the thoughts of his classmates having sex! The other part of himself - which sounded suspiciously like Hermione - was inwardly questioning why anyone would risk bad grades just for a little extra snogging and shagging. "Say," he said, trying to get the attention off himself. "I thought you and Pavarti might - have a thing?"

"Me and Pavarti?" Ron said. "Nah. I couldn't stand a girl who giggles when she kisses."

"Ah," said Harry, once again reduced to making inarticulate noises in order to hold up his part of the conversation. "So it doesn't have anything to do with why you and Hermione - "

Ron turned to him, eyes narrowed, and Harry faltered.

"Well, it's just - never mind."

"No," said Ron firmly. "Tell me."

Harry grabbed a weed as they walked by some overgrown undergrowth, fiddling it with his fingers. "It's not - really fair of me to ask. It's your business, your's and Hermione's. It's only that we always tell eachother everything."

"Do we really?" Ron replied, his voice soft and strange. Harry was just about to ask him what he meant when Ron cried, "Harry! Your hands!"

Harry looked down and realize that the plant he had plucked to play with was now playing with him. Tendrils of the weed were wrapping themselves around his fingers, binding them together, almost as though it were an elaborate pair of handcuffs. "But - but - how is it still alive?"

"I don't know!" Ron cried, hurriedly reaching into his pack. The plant didn't look very dangerous, but you never knew when that could change. After a moment he came out with his wand, pointed it at Harry's hands, and cried, "Stupefy!"

The world went black.

Harry woke up a few moments later with a pain in his head, a warmth on his cheek, and a slimy feeling between his fingers. He looked up at Ron, who was pocketing his wand, his face scarlet.

"What - what happened?"

"I - er, accidentally stunned you as well as the plant. I couldn't catch you in time and you fell. And I decided to take off that bloody plant before I innervated you." Ron wiped one of his hands on his robes, and drew the other across his mouth. His face was still flaming. "I'm sorry, Harry."

"No harm done," Harry replied, feeling the bruise that was forming on the back of his head and thinking that was not quite the case. Still, Ron obviously felt badly about it. "What do you think we should do about the plant?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well," reasoned Harry, "it's obviously magical. But we don't know it's name."

"Er - maybe we'll have a chance to look in the library before we hand our parchments in. We can research it."

Harry nodded. "Good idea."

They continued on their way in companionable silence, which was broken only when one of them spotted a plant or an animal that seemed magical enough to write down. But even the Muggle plants were beautiful, if not as spectacular - the towering trees with their dark green leaves, the grass that swayed in the breezes which penetrated the forest. As the sun was setting, leaving the fauna in elegant shadow, Harry looked around and said, "You know, this is really peaceful. It doesn't seem like schoolwork at all."

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Peaceful."

Harry laughed. "Ron, between Quidditch and the Burrow, I doubt you know what peaceful means." And between eleven years with the Dursleys and seven battling Voldemort, I doubt I know what peace means, either.

Ron saw the bitterness in his face and said, haltingly, "Harry - "

But Harry didn't want to be pitied. He waved the depressing thought - and Ron's concern - aside. "I think this is a good spot to set up camp," he said. "Don't you?"

"I - yes." Ron tossed his pack to the ground and looked around the spot Harry had chosen. "So what do you want to do first?"

"Um... why don't you get your Corporating Cot set up, and get some food out, while I try to start a fire?"

Ron complied wordlessly, rumaging in his pack. Harry walked around, gathering sticks together, and then as much dry tinder as he could find. He could just do the a spell right away, but it would probably work better with some actual wood to burn off of. It might even last them the whole night. He piled the sticks, pointed his wand, and muttered, "Incendio!" A fire burst to life.

He nearly fell into the flames, startled, when Ron put a hand on his shoulder. After he had regained his balance, he turned to Ron and said, accusingly, "You did that on purpose."

Ron smiled innocently. "Meat or beans?"

"Whichever you want," Harry replied, wrinkling his nose. "I've mastered the smell-blocking charm."

"Harry, you prat," Ron shoved him playfully, "I don't want to know what you're implying."

"Ron, you git," Harry laughed, "it's not implied."

Harry turned away before Ron could find a good comeback, heading towards the edge of their clearing. "I'm just going to get some more sticks so we don't have to feed the fire all night."

Ron gazed uneasily after him, obviously discomforted by the deepening shadows. It was nearly pitch black out there, and they hadn't the light of the stars to alleviate it. Harry ignored the slight fear of the dark that persisted in him after so many years spent in the utter blackness of a locked cupboard. He ignored the tingling of his senses, the jumpiness of his nerves. Just as he bent down to scoop up some more wood, he heard a growl behind him.

"Ron!" he called, as he was pushed onto the ground. There was the feel of something sharp cut across his back. He scrambled out from beneath it, reaching for his wand, shouting again, "RON!"

In the darkness he could just make out three pairs of eyes, and over the pounding of his heart he heard a sort of slavering, hungry sound. It jumped again, sinking it's teeth into his robes, and leg, and arm. It caught mostly cloth, but the last set of jaws scraped his arms, sending a searing pain across his skin and causing him to gasp and drop his wand. He jerked out of it's grasp, bring his other hand around to swat at the beast, crying out desperately, "Ron, please! Ron!"

"I'm here, Harry," Ron said, but it was too dark to see him. His voice sounded near, and panicked. "What is it?"

"It's a dog of some sort," Harry said, "can't you see its eyes? It's got three sets of them! I think it's some wild cousin of Fluffy's."

"I can't see it!" exclaimed Ron, frustrated. He mumbled something, and sparks flew out of his wand, lighting the clearing. "Where's your wand?"

Harry didn't bother answering, just dove to where he'd spotted it on the ground. Then he backed up, saying nervously, "Where'd it go?"

Ron looked just as uneasy. "I don't know. Maybe it's gone back to wherever it came - "

He didn't get a chance to finish, as a black shape burst out of the bushes behind him and knocked him to the ground. "Argh!" shouted Ron. "Harry, help!"

"Incendio!" Harry cried, hoping he wouldn't hit Ron. To his relief, the howl of pain was definitely nonhuman. The dog released Ron and bounded off, presumably to the nearest stream, its cries echoing as he left. Harry fell to his knees beside Ron, who lay unmoving on the ground. "Are you all right, Ron? Say something! Ron!"

"Well," said Ron, opening his eyes, a dazed but amiable expression on his face. "What would you like me to say? I'm a bit tired of being dragged around by dogs, no matter how many heads they have."

Harry sat back on his heels, breathing a sigh of relief. "I can't believe they sent us out there with - that thing."

Ron sat up slowly. "Our fault. We should've been more careful. I mean, these are the NEWTs - nasty is in the title. Besides," he added, inspecting himself, "no blood. Just a little sore."

"Unbelievable," said Harry, rubbing his own arm, which was scraped but not bleeding either. "Absolutely unbelievable!"

"I am, aren't I?"

"No, I mean Dumbledore. What if we couldn't stop that beast? What if you'd got hurt?"

"Hey," Ron said, "calm down. I'm fine."

Harry stood up abruptly to go back to the clearing. Ron followed him, puzzled. He watched as the smaller boy paced back and forth, a deep frown etched into his face. Finally, Ron asked, "Knut for your thoughts?"

"I'm thinking," Harry said slowly, "that they just couldn't do it. It's too dangerous."

"Do what?"

"Send us out here," explained Harry. "What's the likelihood that Dumbledore's going to protect me from Voldemort for seven years and then let me get eaten by a mad dog?"

"Not very likely?" Ron offered.

"Right. So I bet - I just bet - that there's someone watching us."

Ron glanced nervously into the shadows. "What do you mean?"

"I bet that the teachers are keeping an eye on us."

"How?"

"I don't know," Harry said, considering. "Well, McGonagall can transfigure herself into a cat to watch us. And, erm, they might have Invisibility Cloaks. And - and they can just apparate in and out real quickly, from place to place, so they needn't all be out at once."

"I hate to be the one to say this, Harry, but I've been around Hermione too long not to point out that you can't apparate on Hogwarts grounds."

"But is the forest part of Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "It doesn't show up on the map Fred and George gave me. Not most of it, anyway. Maybe all the teacher's have to do is walk a bit in and then they can apparate, and follow us all they please."

Ron shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. But probably not as good as Hermione's. If you're right, she's probably already figured it out. She's probably found, caught, and squeezed extra points out of a teacher."

"We can do it, I know we - "

A familiar growl pierced the air. This time it sounded far away, but Ron still paled. "Eh, Harry? Why don't we try to set up a shield first? Before we, well, get eaten."

"But if they're teachers - "

"You know what, Harry?" Ron said firmly, "I'd rather not put this little theory of yours to the test."

Harry nodded. "Okay, what should we do?"

"Maybe... maybe... a permanent shield charm?" Ron suggested.

"Will it hold once we're asleep?"

"We could take turns sleeping," Ron replied. "Although I hate to think how much our grades are gonna suffer if we spend the whole time on a half-night's sleep."

"Hey," said Harry suddenly, smiling. "Why don't you go ahead and make those beans?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about a smell-blocking charm. And a silencing spell. And maybe even a confundus charm while we're at it. If we put my Invisibility Cloak over us, nothing going to see, smell, or hear us."

"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "Why don't you do that, while I make us some dinner?"

"I will," said Harry, smiling devilishly. "You know, Ron, you'd make an excellent housewife."

"What!" cried Ron, startled.

"Why don't you cook us our meal while I, the manly man, protect us with magic?"

"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Ron muttered, while Harry fired off in quick succession, 'Silentium!' 'Desinidor!' and then aiming his wand towards the darkest, scariest parts of the forest, 'Confundo! Confundo!'

He turned back to Ron, who had gotten a shrunken container of beans from his pack and magicked it back to it's propper size. He looked lost as to what to bake them in, though.

"Finite Incantatum," Harry said, then asked, "What's wrong?"

"Haven't got anything to cook it in," Ron replied.

Harry thought for a moment. "I know! Accio cooking pan!" he cried, concentrating hard on the dishware he remembered in the Hogwarts kitchens. The two boys waited. Nothing came. "Maybe one of the teacher's stopped it? Or it got caught in the trees?"

"I guess we can just magic one here. As long as we don't take too long to eat, it should last," Ron reasoned. "'Kay, you can put the shields back up."

Harry redid the charms.

He found himself a log, where he sat and watched Ron as the other boy placed the beans in the magicked pot, using his wand to stir them and adding to the fire from the pile of wood Harry had gathered. Kneeling so close to the fire, he began to sweat - first faint drops of persperation only faintly visible in the shadowy light, then a thick sheen that began to dampen his robes. Harry thought for a moment, then went to his pack, where he found a piece of cloth and quickly undid the shields so he could mutter, 'Frigus!'

Coming around the fire so Ron would see him and not be startled, he placed the chilled cloth on his friend's neck, pleased to see the relieved smile that crossed his face. The words 'thank you' formed on Ron's lips.

Harry returned to his perch. Making beans was not difficult, even the Muggle way, and Ron quickly had their dinner ready. He walked over to where Harry was sitting, handed his the pot, making sure Harry gripped the handle by pretending to touch the metal and drawing his hand back as if he were burned. Handing Harry a spoon, he took one of his own, and dug in.

Harry found the whole experience odd, to put it mildly. The beans tasted different, probably because he couldn't smell them. He guessed it was because tongues and noses were connected - or at least Hermione had said something of the sort. He and Ron kept banging their spoons together, as without cups they needed to share the pot. For a little while they made a game of it, trying to knock eachother's spoons away, protecting the beans as though they were gold. After a bit, though, they settled down to the serious task of eating, only every so often glancing up to look at eachother.

It was strange, to eat with Ron and yet be so silent. Usually they talked about Quidditch or insulted Slytherins between bites of food, yet now they could communicate only with their eyes. But Ron was not meeting his - he gazed off into the distance while chewing his food, the flickering light wreaking havoc with the lines of his face. Depending on the subtle slant of his head, he was young or old, blissful or hardened, happy or unaccountably sad. Harry couldn't take his eyes from the strange effect.

Then suddenly Ron turned to look at him, jaw clenched but his gaze full of, for some reason, hope. After a moment he whispered something that was lost in the barriers Harry had set.

"What did you say?" Harry asked, but of course Ron couldn't hear him either. After a moment's hesitation, he undid that particular spell, and repeated his question.

"I can't see your eyes," Ron replied quietly. "I wish I could but I - it's just the flames in your glasses. I can't - can't talk to you this way. Silentium." He finished, slamming the silence back down, and he stood up and left the fire.

Harry stood to follow him, confused and upset, and did not see whoever it was that took him from behind and knocked him out.

*

He blinked, once, twice. The bruise that had already been plaguing his head was now aching to the bone. He looked up to see Ron staring at him anxiously.

"What happened?" he asked, glad that the silence spell had been taken off. "What - "

"Are you all right?" Ron interupted. He waved his hand in front of Harry's face. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"All six of them," Harry said impatiently. "What's going on? Who attacked me?"

Inexplicably, Ron's face broke into a wicked grin. He rumaged around where Harry couldn't see, then held up a heavy metal pan. "Meet your attacker. Yes, that's right, it's a pot. A Dark pot. I think it serves the enemy."

Ron smiled at his own wit, but Harry could only shake his head. Which caused it to rather hurt. He moaned.

Ron's smile faded. "I think you'd better go to bed, Harry. It's late, and staying up isn't going to do your head any good."

Harry thought about protesting, then acquiesed. "Have we figured out what I'm going to sleep on?"

Ron seemed worried. "We already decided that, Harry. Don't you remember? We'll make my Corporating Cot really big and spread your Invisibility Cloak over us."

"Do you really mind? Sharing the bed, I mean?"

"Sure. I do it all the time. I mean - sometimes when my family goes visiting, me and Fred and George have to go three to a bed. And before that, mum and dad used to let me sleep with them... " his voice trailed off as he noticed the wistful look on Harry's face. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Harry said, with some effort. He pushed the painful thoughts out of his mind, wishes he could do the same with his headache. "C'mon, Ron. Let's go to bed."

*

Draco Malfoy was tired, dirty, and damned cold. His normally perfectly groomed blond hair was streaked with mud and his robes had dried stiff with water from the river he'd fallen into. Although fallen was too nice a word for it. 'Pushed into by a jealous bitch' was more like it.

He said nothing, though. It was far better to be hated for rejecting Pansy Parkinson than to be hated for rejecting the Dark Lord. Despite Dumbledore's trust in the girl, Draco had his own suspicions, even if he was not fool enough to voice them. He bit his tongue and, for once, controlled his pride. He looked down at her as she said the incantaion to start a fire, his mouth curled in a silent sneer.

Spontaneously dunking Malfoy had been enjoyable to Pansy, but she aimed much higher. She, too, kept her feelings hidden, until her rage could work to her advantage.

The hands that Draco had never allowed to pleasure him, would hurt him. The lips that he had kissed but twice before turning to another girl, would say the words that would betray him. The dark mark hidden below his robes would soon be burned onto hers.

Draco watched his one-time girlfriend and fellow Slytherin as she tended the fire, then looked away into the darkness of the forest. It was safer out there, he knew, than by the light. He longed for the comfort of the shadows.

"Pansy - " he began.

"Yes, Draco?" she asked, turning to him, pointing her wand to his chest.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, reaching carefully for his own wand. It wasn't there. His calmness quickly turned to panic. "What are you doing?" he asked again.

"I'm seving my Lord, by capturing Harry Potter. And his friends."

"I'm not his friend. You know that, Pansy. I'd rather befriend a Muggle," Draco spat.

"Haven't you?"

"Don't make this about that," Draco warned her. He thought quickly, trying to find an excuse while looking for a weapon and keeping his expression blank. "This is about Potter. And no one hates him more than I do."

Pansy giggled. It was an absurd sound, coming from someone who was about to kill him. "Professor Snape hates him more." This was also ridiculous - who called their enemies 'Professor'? "And Professor Snape is on his side, the lying bastard."

Draco could bear a lot of things without protesting. He'd once been tortured for five full minutes, without screaming for his parents to save him. But then, that was it, wasn't it? That he'd been tortured and his parents had merely watched?

It was Severus Snape who gave him the potion to stop the pain. Severus Snape who sat by his bedside when he'd had nightmares of being under Crucatious. Severus Snape who had convinced him of what was wrong, and what was right, and what he was meant to do.

"That's rich," he laughed, "coming from a lying bitch."

Her eyes narrow. Her face flamed. She raised her wand and began to curse.

"Think what my father will do to the person who kills his only son - "

Pansy paused. "Think what your father will do to you when he finds out you betrayed him. I'm really doing you a favor."

Then she smiled.

"Avada Kedavara."

*