Irredeemable

The first thing Harry saw when he opened his eyes were the pale, aristocratic features of Draco Malfoy. The two blinked at each other for several seconds before the memories of the previous night came rushing back to Harry.

"Oh no, oh no," he murmured, struggling to sit up and noting with surprise that he was not bound. "What's going on?" he asked suspiciously.

"You mean you don't remember? Being bit by that werewolf and-"

"Of course I remember, Malfoy," Harry snapped in annoyance. "How can you forget something like that?"

"I don't know. I've never been bit by one before," Malfoy pointed out sarcastically.

"Yeah, well, don't. It hurts like hell." He sighed and looked around. "I guess I'm at Voldemort's right?" Draco nodded. "And you're here to make sure I don't escape?"

"Not at all. Now that you're awake, you need to eat."

"I'm being fed? Voldemort never fed me before. Are you sure that's not some euphemism for torture?" In response Malfoy clapped his hands and four House Elves appeared, bearing steaming trays of delectable foods. Harry's jaw dropped. "I guess you were serious."

Harry reached for the nearest platter but found that he was too weak to do so. Malfoy noted his failure and rolled his eyes. "I guess I'm going to have to feed you like a baby, Potter," he growled, though his voice held none of its usual harshness.

"Trust me, Malfoy, I'm going to enjoy this a whole lot less than you will."

"I doubt that." Still, Draco began to spoon rich, savory broth into Harry's mouth. Harry swallowed eagerly, enjoying the flavour. Even at Hogwarts he had never had food this grand.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked Draco.

"This food's for you. It's not my place to eat it." Malfoy responded quietly. Still, Harry noted how he was eyeing a chocolate pudding with hunger.

"Go ahead and eat," Harry urged, unsure of why he was feeling so generous. He brushed it off as gratitude for having saved his life. "I don't mind. There' s no way I can eat it all."

"That's because you always eat like a bird, Potter. I've never seen you eat a hearty meal." Malfoy did not wait for Harry to retract his invitation, immediately digging into the desert.

"That's because my stomach's not used to all that-" Harry slammed his mouth shut abruptly, painfully aware that he had been about to say too much.

"What do you mean?" Malfoy asked, eyes blazing with a sudden curiosity.

"Nothing," Harry responded meekly. "Wait, you watched me?"

"Nice try, Potter. Don't change the subject. Tell me what exactly you mean."

"Only, that, erm, I've never eaten a lot. I've got a small appetite." His eyes must have given him away, for he tried to keep his face carefully blank and he thought he did a good job of it.

"Potter, you're a teenager. We inhale food. It's what we do. Now, why aren't you used to eating large amounts of food?"

"It's none of your damn business!" Harry exploded.

"Alright, alright. Look, I'm... I'm sorry. I'll leave you alone now. Besides, the Dark Lord will want to see you now."

Harry gulped, memories of the Dursleys and long years of starvation momentarily forgotten. "Voldemort?"

"Store."

"Clothes."

"Restricting."

"Restricting? Restricting? Should I be worried?"

"Shut up and keep going."

"Fine. Dumbledore."

"Pedophile."

"Merlin!"

"Arthu-"

"No, not Merlin the wizard! Albus Dumbledore, a pedophile?"

"It's word association. You just say the first thing that pops into your head."

"I know, but still. As much as I loathe the man, that one's a bit out there."

"You were the one who suggested we play!" Harry glared at Draco, though there was no real ire in it.

"Well, maybe we should do something else." Both boys looked around them for a few moments, staring at the blank gray walls. "Any suggestions?"

"No. I'm fresh out of ideas. I hope we get out of here soon."

"We have to. If we have to keep playing word association I fear for my sanity."

Harry swatted Draco's arm. "Ha ha. Very funny."

Draco grinned back. "Still, think about it. It is pretty funny."

"You going insane?" Harry looked confused.

"No," Draco answered, rolling his eyes with an exasperated air. "Dumbledore."

"Oh." He paused for a moment and then began to chuckle. Draco joined in, and for the next few minutes they were incapacitated by their laughter.

"What is so amusing?" Dumbledore wanted to know as he walked into the cell. This only made Draco and Harry double up chortling and the two could not calm down. "I'm afraid I'll never understand the jokes of the young..." Dumbledore regretted mournfully.

Harry instantly sobered, elbowing Draco, who followed suit, although somewhat sulkily. "What do you want?"

"I think that we need to talk. Privately."

"Go ahead," Harry said with a wave of his hand.

"Without Draco."

"No. You've had plenty of chances to talk to me alone. Besides, there is nothing that I won't tell Draco anyway."

"I am well aware of the depth of your relationship, but I do not think that having Mr. Malfoy offer up his opinions would be at all beneficial."

"He'll be good," Harry responded at the same time Draco declared, "I'll be good."

Dumbledore looked unconvinced but nodded his consent. "Very well then. Harry, I want to know why you agreed to follow Voldemort."

"We've been over this many times already, Dumbledore. I didn't have a choice. My so-called friends had abandoned me and I had nowhere to turn. I had no other options."

"You told me before that you belonged to no one."

"No one except Draco, yes," Harry agreed with a calming glance towards the taller boy. "I belong to Draco and he belongs to me." Draco settled back down from and leaned against the stone wall, resuming his expressionless, unblinking study of Dumbledore.

"And you belonged to no one except Draco because you were not forced into obeying Voldemort."

"Yes..." Harry muttered slowly, uncertain of where this was headed and not liking his ignorance one bit.

"Yet you say that you had no choice but to join Voldemort. How does that make any sense?"

"I wouldn't expect you to be able to understand it," Harry retorted bitterly, though he privately wondered how it could possibly make sense.

"I do not profess to understand everything, especially the mind of another. The mind is a complicated thing, and often its owner is unaware of its true intricacies."

"I know my mind quite well, thank you."

"There's something different about him," Hermione insisted, tapping her quill against her lips.

"He doesn't wear his glasses anymore," Ron said dismissively, waving his own eagle feather quill wildly in the air. "What's the incantation for that shield again?"

"Protenus. But Ron, that's not what I mean. Although I do wonder why he suddenly stopped wearing his glasses. Do you suppose he got contacts or something?"

"He probably had a procedure to have his eyes fixed. After all, he couldn't look like a nerd when he helped take over the world, now could he?" Ron spat sourly.

"Ron, grow up. Harry never cared about his appearance before and I don't see why he would start now."

"Don't ask me to explain the mind of a Death Eater."

"You are so mule-headed!" Hermione fumed in irritation. "I'm not talking about his physical appearance! There was something different about him. He felt different."

"Of course he felt different! He's a Death Eater now. Murder and torture has to change a person somehow, you know."

"Would you bloody listen to me?" The use of an explicative from Hermione caught his attention. "Something is a lot different about him. It feels almost familiar in a way, but I can't quite put my finger on it."

"What does it matter? He's as good as dead. Either he'll have his soul sucked or he'll spend the rest of his life rotting in some dingy jail cell." Ron returned his attention to his hastily scribbled essay. "It's still twelve inches short and we've only half an hour before Defense!" he cried in dismay.

"Ron, would you stop worrying about your homework? You should have had it done when it was assigned weeks ago, when it was assigned, in the first place, and it's not like it matters anyway!"

Ron's eyes widened in shock. "Hermione, schoolwork always matters to you. Remember? 'If we don't get good marks, then we won't have good careers, and then-'"

"I'm very aware of that, Ronald Weasley! But unless we figure out what's going on with Harry, there won't be any way for us to even graduate, much less take our N.E.W.T.s!"

"Is that supposed to be a bad thing?" Hermione glared at him and his feeble attempt at being facetious. "Okay, okay, I wasn't serious. Now what do you want me to do about it?"

"Help me figure this out! What could make Harry's magical aura suddenly feel different? I'm pretty sure that this isn't extremely recent, but he wasn't like this when he first returned from You-Know-Who."

"Maybe You-Know-Who did something to him?" Ron suggested, though with a look that clearly stated he did not believe his own words.

"No. That's not it. It's almost like he's... not... human..."Hermione's eyes unfocused and she moved her lips as if remembering an old, half-forgotten conversation. Ron waved his hand in front of her face. She did not respond.

"Hermione? Hermione!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. After a moment she woke up, blinking in confusion and shaking her head from side to side.

"That's it!" she said, exuding an air of assuredness. "Oh, I've figured it out!" She paused for a moment and the grin of triumph faded off her face to be replaced by a concerned expression. "Oh, but poor Harry. It's no wonder he turned..."

"What are you talking about? There's no reason to pity Harry! He killed Ginny!"

"I know that, Ron, but this is something else. It doesn't condone or excuse what he did, but it does offer up an explanation-"

"Will you just tell me what your chattering on about?" he demanded, knowing that Hermione would take forever to make her point.

"Ron! Harry's a werewolf!"

"Oh," he said stupidly. "Wait a second..."

Hermione's eyebrows rocketed upwards as she understood what he meant. "Tonight's the full moon! We've got to help him!"

"Wait a second, what about my Defense essay?"

"You should have done it yesterday when we had that free period," Hermione responded sagely. "Now, come on, we've got to tell Dumbledore! It's almost nightfall!"

"Harry, I only want to help you," Dumbledore half-begged, running a hand through his long silvery hair. "You must see that."

"I 'must see' nothing. You are not trying to help me, you're trying to turn me back into your puppet. Well, I've been living without the strings cut for over a year and I'm doing just fine."

"Is that why you scream with nightmares every night?" Dumbledore asked shrewdly.

Harry's mask of indifference and smart aleck coolness shattered. What little colour he had in his face drained from his skin, leaving him a pasty white. "I... I..." he stammered, bringing his knees up to his chest and holding them tightly.

"Leave him alone!" Draco interjected hotly, moving to stand between the two powerful wizards. "You have no idea what you're talking about!" He shielded Harry from Dumbledore with his body, feet planted firmly on the floor and eyes blazing. "You couldn't possibly understand."

"Mr. Malfoy, I have known Harry better and longer than you have. I believe it is you that does not understand," Dumbledore tried to reason, though his words had a hard edge that ruined the persuading effect they were intended to have.

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't your Harry! Your Harry died over a year ago!"

"Even if his allegiance has changed, he is still the same person, at least at the core. A year can only change someone so much."

"Him and his nightmares are none of your concern. Why don't you just leave us alone?" Draco begged with a complete abandon that the never would have had for himself. The controlled, cautious young man was gone, leaving this desperate boy to plead. "I don't care if you erase all our memories and abandon us in Antarctica, just leave us alone!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?" His eyes flashed a steely gray and he pounded a fist against the wall. He froze when Harry quivered and cried out, rushing over to him and wrapping his arms protectively around his slight frame. "I'm sorry, Harry, Dumbledore will be gone soon, I promise. Don't let him bother you; he's completely wrong and nothing he says should affect you." Harry whimpered. "I'm sorry for scaring you, Harry. I'll try not to lose my temper anymore, I pro-"

"That's not it," Harry whispered shakily. He took a deep breath before continuing.

"It's starting."

"Merlin!" Draco breathed. "Get out of here now!" he shouted at Dumbledore.

"I will not leave until Harry responds to my question," Dumbledore stated stubbornly, calmly meeting the blonde's gaze.

"You don't understand, you need to get out of here! I can't protect you!"

"Mr. Malfoy, I believe I just proved that I understand more than you think I do. I will not leave right now; we are at too crucial of a moment." Dumbledore spread his hands apart for emphasis, long sleeves of his sapphire robes flowing along with his arms.

"Fine, maybe you understand other stuff. Whatever. But you don't understand this, I guarantee it. Now if you want to live to see morning, you'll leave right now! Even if I could, I probably wouldn't save you in the first place." Draco knew he and Harry would be blamed for Dumbledore's death, even if they had not been able to help it and had done everything they could to convince the doddering old man to leave. With yet another murder staining their hands, this one a weighty and important person, there was no hope that they would live to see the end of the week.

"Mr. Malfoy, now is not the time for these games."

"Leave. Now."

"No." On the bed, Harry howled.

"Liquorice," Hermione said to the statue of the stone gargoyle, watching as it disappeared and the staircase took its place. "Come on, Ron, we don't have any time to lose!" Together the head girl and head boy raced up the spiral stair, knocking wildly at the door at the top. "Professor Dumbledore!"

There was no answer from inside the office, so Hermione pushed the door open. No one was inside. "Where is he?" she asked one of the portraits politely.

"Oh," the flustered looking woman said. Ron noted the half-empty bottle of brandy in her hand and the fact that she looked a bit tipsy. "He's er... um..." She fell over into a light doze, the alcohol slipping from her hands and spilling all over the intricately patterned Persian rug at her feet.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Ron demanded impatiently of all the portraits. "Come on, it's important!" The paintings all began to talk at once, causing the two students to cover their ears and wait for the clamor to calm down. "Not all of you!" Ron shrieked when they were done. "I just need one of you to tell me where the Headmaster is."

"You young people are so impatient these days!" a portly gentleman in a top hat and antique suit observed. "When I was alive, children knew better than to be so uppity with their elders. Why, one time when Morgan Lester decided to back talk to me we hung her from the ceiling for a few days."

"You're related to Filch, aren't you?" Ron noted dryly.

"My name is Argus Filch, and I was Headmaster of Hogwarts from-"

"I don't care!" Ron proclaimed, turning to another painting. "Where's the Headmaster?"

"What?" she screamed. "Speak up, I don't hear so well."

"Where is the Headmaster?" Ron repeated, though much louder.

The woman in the portrait, who would have been rather comely save for the fact that one ear was gone entirely, nodded. "Oh, dear me, he said something about visiting the bathroom." Ron and Hermione exchanged glances briefly. "Although I must admit, I never would have thought that the such a dignified person would have referred to the toilet as Mr. Potty."

"Mr. Potter? Did he say Mr. Potter?"

"Oh! That must have been it. That certainly makes much more sense!"

Ron rolled his eyes and was about to open his mouth to berate the portrait when Hermione grabbed his arm and began pulling him down towards the dungeons.

"We don't have any time to lose! Harry could transform any time now, and the Headmaster doesn't know!"

He felt as if he were on fire. His bones began to shift and crack, some disappearing and new ones growing out of nothing. Hair began to sprout all over his body and he felt his clothes tear and fall to the floor in a heap around him.

Harry lifted his nose to the air and sniffed, smelling the reek of human that permeated the room. He grinned wolfishly and howled, raising the hackles of the one who smelled like lemons. Suddenly, he sensed another wolfish presence, although it was slightly distorted as if not entirely human.

He turned towards the new, strange creature, approaching the blonde wolf cautiously. Gray eyes regarded him solemnly. The two wolves circled each other, sniffing and occasionally darting forward as they felt one another out.

Hunt with me, brother, Harry tried to say, hoping that this odd wolf, who smelled of human, but a familiar, good human, could understand him.

Do not hunt, the other wolf advised, nipping the air with his teeth. You will only cause problems for yourself if you do so.

What do you mean? I hunger for the man flesh that I can smell. My belly calls out in hunger and yearns to be filled. My appetite must be sated.

Not this night, not if you value your life.

No human can kill me! The very idea was preposterous. Are you a coward? Is that why you will not join me in the hunt? Very well. I shall kill and feast, leaving no remains for you, scavenger.

You will not hunt this night! The pale wolf lunged at him, using his heavier weight to pin the dark wolf to the floor. Harry struggled against the paws digging into his shoulders, snapping with his jaw.

Let me taste the man flesh! he pleaded, writhing and kicking with his powerful hind legs.

Do not hunt, or you will bring about your own destruction. Please, do not do this. If he had been even partly human, Harry would have recognized the tone of desperation and despair that filled this unnatural wolf's voice and perhaps responded to it. As he was, however, he merely ignored the supplications, flinging the blonde off him with a sudden burst of strength.

The other wolf whimpered as he crashed into the wall, but Harry did not pay him any mind. His brain was focused entirely on the other human in the room and on delicious thoughts of a hot, steaming, bloody meal.

"Where's his room?" Hermione shrieked. "Come on, Ron, where is it?"

"It's down this way!" he screamed back, pulling her by the hand down a side corridor. "We're almost there!"

"Run faster!"

"It's not easy, running in these robes!"

"Ron, faster!" Ron grumbled, but picked up the pace. He skidded to a halt in front of two identical doors. "Which one is it, which one is it?" Hermione cried.

"I don't know!"

"What do you mean, you don't know? You were the one who snuck down here and tried to confront him-"

"I don't remember! It was really late and I was really angry."

"Fine!" Hermione roared, yanking one of the doors open. Nothing was inside. She muttered something that caused Ron to flush and turn away. "It's got to be this one then!" She pulled open the door.

Inside were two wolves. Ron gawked but Hermione plunged in unfazed, whipping out her wand. "Stupefy!" The black wolf, who she guessed was Harry, toppled over. The other did not seem to be conscious at all so she left him alone, turning instead to Dumbledore. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine. Although without you I must say that the situation would have been otherwise." Dumbledore stood and ushered his two pupils out of the room, locking the door securely as he did so. "Perhaps next time I will bring my wand; I had been leaving it in my office for fear of one of the boys grabbing hold of it."

"You shouldn't come down her alone," Hermione said crossly, then stopped, hand flying to her mouth in shock when she realised she had just chided the Headmaster.

"It is quite alright, Miss Granger. You are correct, as usual. From now on we shall have to be more careful around Mr. Potter." He paused for a moment, and his blue eyes sparked. "Perhaps it is time to call up Remus again."