Blast from the Past

Harry walked into the Potions classroom, preparing himself for the worst. He found that Snape and Malfoy were already there, but presumably hadn't been for long.

"Potter," Snape sneered. "As I was just explaining to Mr. Malfoy, the two of you will be spending your detention cleaning up the classroom and organizing the storerooms. There have been a great many incidents of potions boiling over or being spilled. I fully expect those areas will be thoroughly cleaned as well. I'll be in my office." With that, he walked through a door into his adjoining office, leaving the two boys alone in the dungeon classroom.

Harry glanced at Malfoy, then scanned the room. "I'll start out here if you want to start in the storeroom," he offered. Obviously, splitting the job would be best, so they wouldn't have to spend too much time in direct contact with each other.

"Fine," Malfoy said. He turned and went toward the storeroom without further comment. Harry watched him go, curious as to why Malfoy would pass up the opportunity to insult him. After a moment, he gave up and went to the far back corner of the classroom to begin cleaning. Seeing the layers of different potions which had dried and congealed there, (some of which looking like they'd been there at least a year) he glanced around and realized he was starting in the very corner where Neville Longbottom used to sit.

'Great. Poor Neville,' Harry thought. 'I feel bad for him that he got in trouble and got picked on so much, especially in here, but I hate the idea of having to clean all this up.'

He heard clanking from the storeroom. 'I guess it's not any better in there. The student stores are always a mess with everyone spilling things, putting them in the wrong places and everything. He's got it just as bad as I...' "hmmfph, not nearly" he muttered.

"Talk to yourself all the time, Potter?" Harry spun around to see Malfoy's familiar smirk.

"I'm honestly not given much choice at the moment if I want an intelligent conversation," Harry replied. He promptly turned around and went back to scraping the dried potion layers off the stone floor.

As he sat there, scraping endlessly, Harry began to drift into the thoughts that frequently haunted him. Thoughts of right and wrong, thoughts of death and life, thoughts of loss. He'd lost his parents at the early age of one because they were on the side of 'right' and Voldemort didn't like that. He'd grown up with the Dursleys who hated him because his parents were 'weird'. His first year at Hogwarts, Harry had been reminded of his loss by looking into the Mirror of Erised and seeing his parents standing there with him. He'd nearly lost his best friend, Ron during their chess game on the way to the Sorcerer's Stone. Ron never talked about it and would be loathe to admit how badly he was hurt. He'd tried to sacrifice himself, despite the possibilities of how serious it could be. Ron did that for Harry, for the side of 'good' and 'right'. During his second year, the Chamber of Secrets was opened and again, Harry found himself fighting on the side of 'right'. He'd come very close to losing that battle. He and Ron, along with Professor Lockhart, had nearly gotten crushed by the rock avalanche. Hermione was among the students who were petrified by the basilisk, along with Colin Creevy - a first year who wanted nothing more than to be Harry's friend and take his picture - and Percy's girlfriend, to name a couple. Though the Mandrake Roots finally matured enough to revive the petrified students, it was a stressful and harrowing experience for them, their families and their friends. The worst of it though was Ginny. Little Ginny Weasley had nearly died because of Tom Riddle. In retrospect, it would seem that Ginny's involvement was all because of Harry. Lucius Malfoy would have found someone else to give that diary too, but it ended up in Ginny's book because of Harry's representation of 'good' and Malfoy's connection with 'bad'.

Simple as that sounded, it was very true (at least in Harry's mind) and it was a realization that sparked an idea in Harry's mind.

Finally getting through the worst of the spilled potions, Harry got up and began straightening the rest of the room, cleaning off tables, straightening the caldron shelves and such. His mind wandered through third year, the run-ins with Sirius before everyone knew he was innocent, the danger he and his friends put themselves in for what they believed to be 'right'. Fourth year was even worse, his fight for good resulted in Voldemort coming back to power and Cedric Diggory dying. He'd been told that it wasn't his fault. What he'd thought all along and never voiced to anyone is that if he had been selfish, Cedric would have lived. It was only because of his desire to do what's 'right' that he had suggested he and Cedric grab the cup at the same time - the cup that ended up being a portkey and led Cedric to his death.

The past two years since Voldemort's return had been a bit of a blur. Harry supposed he was lucky that he hadn't spent the past two summers with the Dursleys, as much as they hated him. The fact that he had spent those summers, and indeed, his 16th and 17th birthdays in battle, that would never escape him. A virtual prison surrounded by hate - or - a magical battleground surrounded by the dead and injured bodies of his friends, acquaintances, and teachers. Ron had nearly lost his life again, Charlie Weasley had been killed by Peter Pettigrew in an early battle, even Snape had been horribly injured more than once in the past two years. The toll this war was taking on the people Harry cared for was devastating. He'd often wondered if it would stop if he just gave in and submitted to Voldemort's desires. Would his death keep his loved ones safe? He'd decided he couldn't take anymore tragedy, loss, or trauma - and couldn't stand the idea of his friends living with it either. The reason for this final decision was Hermione. She'd been captured by some of Voldemort's supporters and tortured for days on end. She'd been much quieter and more cautious since her return, but refused to talk about it.

/foolish boy..watching you..for master../

Harry looked up quickly. That voice, it sounded vaguely familiar, almost like Voldemort in his first year, before his resurrection. He listened quietly, wondering if maybe he was imagining things.

/my master will know/

"Malfoy, is that you?" Harry asked without thinking. If it wasn't Malfoy, he certainly didn't want to admit that he was hearing things. Malfoy would have too much fun with that information.

"What?" Malfoy said from inside the student storeroom. "Is what me, Potter?"

"Did you say something?"

"No, have you gone daft? Or did you just decided to start talking back to yourself?" Harry watched as Malfoy stepped around the doorway. His hair wasn't as sleek as usual, relaxed, almost tousled. It looked good on him.

'Merlin, what am I thinking?' Harry shook his head in exasperation. Between these tortured memories and his bizarre thoughts of Malfoy he must be going mad. "Funny Malfoy, I just."

"Um, Potter?" Malfoy interrupted. His voice rose a bit, shaking with nerves. Harry looked up, wondering what could make the infamous, cold- blooded Draco Malfoy sound nervous. "Could you, um, could you come over here, slowly, but, um NOW!"

Surprised at Malfoy's visible display of weakness, Harry started across the room, wondering what on Earth could have shaken his stoic enemy like this. As he rounded the last group of desks he realized it - it was a snake.

As Harry stood watching, he saw Malfoy glance up nervously. He was very visibly frightened by the snake. Harry felt the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he thought how ironic that someone he had once suspected as the heir of Slytherin would be afraid of snakes. 'He's got his guard down. He's even nicer looking when he's showing real emotion.' Harry thought back and couldn't remember seeing Malfoy show anything besides hatred, disgust or anger - until now. Now those steely blue-grey eyes showed nothing but fear, with just the tiniest bit of hope. After a few very tense and silent moments, Harry finally realized that hope was Draco Malfoy's silent prayer that he would be protected from the snake by the very Gryffindor he despised.

"Potter, are you just going to stand there? Or did you set this snake on me so you could enjoy watching the show?"

/master.need protection.shall I?./

Harry looked at the snake, wondering how it got in here, why it was trying to protect him, why it was calling him master. Harry hadn't spoken to a snake since second year. He rarely had the chance to be around them, but made a conscious effort NOT to speak Parseltongue under ANY circumstances. He'd convinced himself it was an evil power and he shouldn't be using it.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at Malfoy again. "What is it you want me to do, Malfoy?" He made sure to spit the name out in hatred as Malfoy had so frequently done to him and his friends. "You want HELP from the FAMOUS Harry Potter? You're not concerned with your reputation being sullied by the story of how you, a Slytherin, had to be SAVED from a snake by The-Boy-Who-Lived?"

Draco Malfoy was taken aback by this behavior. 'I've never heard him refer to himself as The-Boy-Who-Lived,' Draco thought. 'I've never quite seen him so heartless and forceful. I think I li. . . ' Draco closed his eyes a moment, trying to block the image of the swirls of emerald green in Potter's eyes. "Yes, Potter," he forced himself to say. "I want help from you. You can speak to this snake. You can tell it."

/foolish boy. . .bite him. . .good riddance. . .master?/

"...Well?" Malfoy said.

"What? Well, what?" Harry realized the snake was asking for permission to bite Malfoy, feeling that Harry needed protection from him for some reason. He'd ignored bits of Malfoy's request, listening instead to the voice only he could hear. "Never mind, Malfoy, hold it a moment, would you?"

/why do I need protection from this boy?/

/he's brought you pain, master. . .one bite. . .take the worry from you master/

/you think I'm worried about what he can do to me?/

/master's mind shows truth. . .this boy haunts you. . .good riddance. . .master will be happier/

/no, biting Draco won't make me happier, thank you, though./

/master will remember me if I'm needed?/

/yes, I'll send word./

'I called him Draco. How very odd.' Harry watched as the snake bowed it's head slightly and turned to slither away, slipping through a nearly invisible crack in the corner. He looked up at Malfoy. 'Draco. He offered me friendship once. Told me to watch out for the wrong sort. I wonder.'

Malfoy released a very deep breath as the snake left the dungeon classroom. He looked over at Harry gratefully, then suspiciously as he took notice of the odd expression on Harry Potter's face. Malfoy sneered his best sneer, pulling on the behavior he'd learned from Lucius growing up. "Don't you want to run to all your friends and spread the word now? Let everyone know you've become a hero once again?" Secretly, he wished they could keep it just between the two of them. He couldn't imagine what counter-story he could concoct to defend himself and his reputation. He wondered, not for the first time, what might have been if Potter hadn't turned down his handshake in their first year.

"No, Malfoy, I get pretty sick of being called a hero. I've always just done what's been expected of me as the son of James and Lily Potter. I never asked for this. I never set out to save the wizarding world. Those I did set out to save, . . ." He paused. He could hardly believe he was saying all this to Draco Malfoy of all people. Thoughts and feelings he couldn't express to his best friends, no matter how hard he tried. Fears he couldn't talk to his own godfather about. Torturous memories that he often wanted to cut out of his brain. All of this seemed to bubble at the surface when faced with the opportunity to talk to Malfoy about it. He replayed that first year conversation in his mind once more, as he had done more than a hundred times in the past six and a half years. Finally he looked at Malfoy. His emerald green eyes darkening to a deep, cloudy forest green. They met and connected with the blue-grey eyes, previously cold and hard as steel, now opening up with curiosity. Un-named emotions passed between the two young men as they stared into each others eyes. Finally, Harry took a step forward.

"I've been thinking, Malfoy. You offered me friendship and a handshake once. Told me that I should learn the wrong sort."

"Yes?"

"Perhaps you were right. I'm thinking it's time I re-evaluate my allegiances." With that surprising statement, Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who- Lived, the one who faced and battled He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the proclaimed Savior of the Wizarding World stepped forward and offered his hand to Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy - a Death Eater and rumored to be Voldemort's right hand man.

Draco looked at his hand, looked into those deep green eyes again and realized that something VERY important and VERY real was going on here. He offered Harry one of his very rare genuine smiles and accepted the handshake.

"You realize, Potter, that this changes everything?"

"Of course, Malfoy. That's my goal."

~*~*~

1976

James Potter and Lucius Malfoy had been working diligently on their assignment from Professor McGonnagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. After a few minor adjustments, they'd finally figured out exactly what needed to be done. Tonight, their fourth night of detention, they were ready to test it out.

'I can hardly believe Malfoy's being so incredibly agreeable. Must be something in this for him that I haven't figured out yet.'

"So are you sure about this?" James asked. He was a little uncertain, wondering if perhaps Malfoy had decided to poison him during the 'test'. After all, the Slytherin definitely had the upper hand in Potions. James couldn't have identified half the ingredients in either this topical potion, or the other potion they would be ingesting later, not to mention verified their purposes.

"Don't be absurd, Potter," Lucius looked at the raven-haired Gryffindor with contempt. He knew the Potion was perfect. For that matter, everyone in school knew that Lucius was a Potions expert, second only to his housemate, Severus Snape. How dare Potter question his knowledge? "Of course I'm certain about my potions. Perhaps you would prefer that I take it first, to ensure that you won't be poisoned by my exceptional knowledge?"

"Absolutely Mr. Malfoy, that's exactly what I would prefer," James said pompously, doing an amazing impression of the everyday tone and behavior of one Lucius Malfoy. Oddly, Malfoy was completely oblivious to the fact that he was being mocked. He simply reached for a small vial and filled it slightly over halfway with the watery black liquid.

"Tell me sirs, are we ready for our test?" Professor McGonagall asked. The two young men turned to see their Transfiguration professor standing just inside the doorway along with Albus Dumbledore. James smiled at the two professors, noticing the twinkling eyes and friendly smile he received in return from the Headmaster. James had always admired and respected Dumbledore, who was widely known as the most powerful wizard of this time.

"Yes, Professor, I believe we are," Malfoy answered.

The four of them gathered around the caldron, the young raven-haired man holding the small, liquid filled vial. Lucius and James explained what they had come up with for the first stage of the assignment.

"We decided that it needed to be visual," said Lucius. He took out a blank piece of parchment and spread it across the table. "We've enchanted this parchment to show a calendar of sorts. It's receptive to the dates spoken to it." With that, he touched his wand to it and said, "November, 1976" Immediately, lines and numbers appears on the parchment, spreading across it, merging together, until finally there was a complete calendar month neatly laid out on the table.

James Potter smiled to himself, pleased that he could achieve such accurate results without the help of Moony, Padfoot and Wormtail. He'd discussed it with them first, not wanting to use the Marauders Map secret without the prior knowledge of the other Marauders. Looking up at his professors, it appeared they were quite pleased with the enchantment as well.

"Now," James said, "all we have to do is brush the potion over it, and it will reveal any dark disturbances during the month of November."

There was a moment of silence as the young men pondered the power and importance of what they were about to do. If this worked, well, it could well change the way the wizarding world was run. It would be an invaluable tool for the Ministry of Magic, as well as a highly guarded secret that would require great protection by the Misuse of Magic office.

"The potion will not be complete until we add the Centaur tears," Lucius said. "With the seeing powers of the Centaurs, the tears will give us the opportunity to see the future. The potion without the tears would simply reveal dark influences of the here and now."

'Like you?' James thought. He knew the Malfoy's had been Slytherin's for many hundreds of years. He also knew that Lucius Malfoy's mother, Electra, was as dark as they came. 'She's probably been teaching Lucius the Dark Arts since he was a baby.' Shaking his head slightly, James came back to the issue at hand.

"How much of the Centaur tears do we need to add?" he asked.

"One drop should be enough for the month," Lucius said. He pulled a dropper out of a delicate glass bottle and allowed one very small drop to fall into his vial and they watched as the potion went from a murky black to crystal clear.

"It looks just like water!" James said with surprise.

"It's supposed to," Lucius replied quietly. He was quite proud of this potion. Lucius never told anyone how often he worked with Severus Snape on their Potions homework, late evenings in the dungeon, hours and hours of detailed potions work, creating new ones, practicing old ones. He never talked about the deeper level of his friendship with Severus. Their friendship was quite different than the others he had formed within the Slytherin dorm over the last six years. Lucius was hoping this potion, created on his own, would be special enough and powerful enough to provide him with a place in the wizarding world as a future potions master. Perhaps he would even have the opportunity to work with Severus in a professional capacity. Lucius was completely unaware of the discreet smile that crept onto his face as he considered the notion of impressing Severus with his new potions work, working with Severus, creating potions with Severus, spending extra time with Severus, touching Severus. . . but that line of thinking would get him nowhere. Lucius already knew that his parents had pledged him to Narcissa. No matter where his desire or his heart led him, he would be married to Narcissa within a year and they would be expected to produce an heir as soon as possible.

"Ah-hmmm" The sound of Professor Dumbledore clearing his throat quickly broke that train of thought. "Shall we?" Dumbledore asked Lucius, the twinkle in his eyes told Lucius that he knew exactly what the young blond had been thinking, while the smile told Lucius that Dumbledore would keep that knowledge to himself.

"Yes sir," Lucius said. "We shall."

Lucius picked up a soft brush and dipped it into the vial James was holding. The parchment darkened slightly as the liquid was spread across, but then went back to its natural pale color almost immediately. They looked at one another, then at their professors, and waited. The four of them sat in the potions classroom looking at each other silently and waited for something to happen for what seemed like hours. Finally, (about 3 ½ minutes later) it happened.

Shimmering letters appeared on the calendar, in the box representing November 17th. ~Darkness falls, 4:17 pm~

"Now what?" James asked.

"That's simple, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied. "Now you get to work on the next step."

"We would like to see what the two of you can do to prevent or correct the problem that will occur on November 17th," McGonagall said. "I believe you already have plans for another potion. You may also used a charm or spell to aid in your work. Please notify us when you are prepared, we'd like to see something by the end of the week." With that, she glanced at Albus, her eyes clearing saying 'we've got a lot to talk about' and turned to walk out of the room.

Professor Dumbledore nodded slightly at Minerva, then looked at the young men in front of him with the ever-present twinkle in his eyes. "You two may not be old enough to have learned this yet, but I'll tell you now, there are very few times when it is beneficial to argue or disagree with a woman. Something about them, they always seem to have the upper hand." He smiled and started toward the door, then paused and looked back at them. "I'm very proud of the both of you. That's some good work you've done, and very befitting work from two of the most powerful students in the school."

James smiled at the kindly headmaster, then turned to begin putting equipment and ingredients away so he could get back to his common room and find the woman who had the upper hand in his life. Lucius followed suit, primarily thinking that Electra would be proud to hear that he had impressed the headmaster with his potions work.

In the corridor, Minerva and Albus walked quickly and quietly to the gargoyle which led to Albus' office. Albus Dumbledore quietly whispered his password, {Sugar Quills} and the two of them followed the spiral staircase up to the office where they could, at last, discuss the amazing events that had taken place that evening.

"I find it utterly amazing that two students could put together such powerful magic in a matter of days, Albus. What are we dealing with here? What do you hope to get from this?"

"I believe those two students, along with a few others, could do much more than that if they were to put their minds to it. We have some strong powers in this school, Minerva. Stronger than we have in at least two decades. And there will be more to come, power like this school never thought it would see. I can sense it." He reached for a Chocolate Toad and quickly bit a leg off before it could hop away. Though he seemed distracted by his love for sweets, Minerva knew he was completely attentive in all things serious.

"What do you know?"

"I know that James Potter and Lucius Malfoy are very powerful wizards, possibly much more powerful than many of the governors of the school, and even a number of members of the Ministry. I also know that Potter is most likely going to marry Lily Evans, the most powerful witch born of non magical parents I have seen in my lifetime. I've no doubt that those two will produce some very strong children in time. Furthermore, I know that Lucius Malfoy has been promised to Narcissa Black, also a gifted potions student - not to mention an excellent beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team - and those two are very likely to have extremely powerful offspring as well."

McGonagall sat silently, wondering what this was leading to.

"I've received word from an old friend at the Ministry of Magic, a seer in the Future Accuracy and Reparation Department. She tells me that Scales of Power are showing something very odd, extreme fluctuations in the balance of power, and that these two families are somehow involved in it. The time wheel seems to be a bit off, as though the future has been put together wrong, like a potion mixed in the wrong order. The high levels of power we have within these young people lead me to believe that we're on the right track. Once we see what else Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy come up with, we'll have an idea what to do next."