Krum Do I Love?

Krum Do I Love? - Chapter 10

The Pensieve

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"I don't see why he couldn't just use a fire to talk to me, like he always does," said Lee.

"Maybe he's afraid someone is listening in on his fire," Remus answered. "He must have something very important to say." He could certainly understand Lee's exasperation. He, too, was completely exhausted, and all he wanted to do was get a good shower and enter an extra-fluffy bed with a warming charm placed on it by someone who knew his business. The long walk towards the end of the anti-Apparation wards that surrounded Hogwarts did not improve his mood.

"Maybe I should go into Oliver's house alone," Lee suggested, as they neared the edge of the ward. "I don't know if he'll feel comfortable talking when you're there."

Remus gave him a lopsided smile. "Good thing you brought that up now, after we've walked for almost an hour."

"Oh," Lee offered his sympathy. " I'm grateful that you came with me. I want you there." He had asked Remus to accompany him only because Ginny had made him, but it seemed that he felt a lot safer with the more experienced man around. "Just give me a few minutes alone with him before you join us."

"All right," sighed Remus, crossing the ward's borderline. He chose a small rock, and sat on it. "I'll see you there in fifteen minutes. Go."

Lee hesitated for just one second, and then he disappeared with a soft 'poof'. The instant he was gone, Remus got up off his rock and started milling around the edge of the ward. He was tired, but not tired enough to sit and rest, while the kid was out of his sight. He kept looking at his watch, but the watch's hand insisted on staying on 'Not Yet'. After he shook it a little, to convince it to show the right time, the watch finally complied, and the hand moved to 'Time to Apparate'.

Remus didn't even bother to lower his hand before Disapparating away to Wood's home. He resisted the temptation to walk in on the conversation, and chose to Apparate a short distance from the front door. That was too bad, because this way, he was able to see the Dark Mark hovering above the house, large and hideously impressive.

He rushed to the house, worst-case scenarios pulsing in his head. In his mind, he could see two bodies lying on the floor, waiting for someone to find them. He didn't even consider the option that the dark minion who had cast the spell might still be in there.

The door to the house wasn't locked, which was lucky for it, because otherwise Remus would have burst it to splinters. He almost breathed in relief when he saw only one body in the foyer. Almost. It was Wood's. Lee was nowhere to be seen.

Knowing that there was nothing he could do for Wood, Remus commenced a scan of the house. He found Lee in front of the fire in the parlour, talking to someone. Lee acknowledged Remus' presence with a head nod, and continued his conversation. He was talking to a Ministry Auror, and was just about finished.

"Thank you Mr Jordan. We'll be right there," said the Auror, his head disappearing from the fire.

"Why didn't you let me know?" asked Remus, angrily.

"It seemed more appropriate to notify his family and the Ministry first."

"Yes, you're right, I'm sorry. You gave me quite a start." Remus hadn't felt such a need for a strong drink in years. He put that urge aside, and asked, "Do you know why he was killed?"

"No." Lee shook his head dejectedly.

"Can I see the letter he sent you?"

"Of course, but there's nothing in it that can help, only that he wanted to show me something he'd found at the ministry. You think that they killed him for that?"

"I'm not a great believer in coincidence, so, yes, I'd say that there's a good chance -"

But Remus did not get to finish the sentence. Wood's family members began to pop in from the thin air, followed by the ministry Aurors. One by one, people apparated into the house, slowly filling it with the bustle of investigators at work, mixed with cries of grief. Lee and Remus were pushed aside, until they found themselves completely isolated in Wood's bedroom. Remus thought that this was actually not a bad thing compared to having to face the family. He never did know what to say in such events.

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Arabella was so sorry for the question she'd asked. All she had wanted was to tease Sirius a little, after the extremely long debriefing. She had asked him why he was such an insufferably arrogant git, but her sole intention was to see him squirm a little under the residual influence of the Veritaserum. The last thing she'd expected was an honest answer. But that's exactly what she got. And a full hour of it. She felt sorry for Sirius, although, admittedly, she was also extremely flattered. And happy, for he loved her back. She never would have imagined. Correction. She had imagined, she just didn't dare to believe. Not until now, anyway.

After a long hour of confessing his love to her, Sirius was finally beginning to grasp the significance of what he was saying. The fact that the headmaster had given him a double-dose of Veritaserum must have had some influence on the amount of time it had taken him to come to his senses. But once he had, he was biting his lips against the words.

"Sirius!" Arabella jumped. "You're bleeding! Stop it!" He had bitten through his lip, and large drops of blood stained his dirty robes. Sirius looked at her, puzzled, and kept at it. "There's nothing you haven't said already," she tried to reason with him, almost pleading for him to stop.

Sirius raised a hand and touched it to his lip gingerly. He looked in shock at the blood on his fingers. "I didn't realise I was biting this hard," he said. "It doesn't hurt at all."

"When was the last time you felt pain?" asked Dumbledore. He looked worried when he spoke.

Sirius frowned in an effort to remember. "I think it was when we fought all those Death Eaters." Sirius was still thinking. "No - my legs certainly hurt afterwards, when we ran. I think it stopped right after we went through the fireplace. Yes, I'm sure of it, because when we chased that Death Eater, I had no trouble running."

"What Death Eater?"

"The one with the potion."

"You chased a Death Eater holding a potion?"

"No, he spilled the potion before he fled. It was harmless, though. At first I thought Mundungus and I were going to melt, or something, but it had absolutely no effect." Sirius laughed at the memory of his baseless fear.

"So, you and Mundungus got splashed with the potion?" Dumbledore asked inquisitively.

"Yeah, why?"

Dumbledore ignored him. He turned on Mundungus, gave him a long piercing look and then said, "Crucio."

Mundungus looked at him, mystified, but didn't as much as twitch.

"Minerva," Dumbledore called without taking his eyes off the man. "Please summon Severus. I think we need his help."

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Hermione tossed in her sleep. It was cold. She felt around for her blanket, only to find that she had none. Opening a lazy eye, she remembered where she was - the middle of the Forbidden Forest, in the centre of a small ward Harry had built. She could recall falling asleep in Harry's arms, but there was no trace of him now. Only his folded cloak lay under her head as a reminder.

Sitting up to look around her, she could see that Ron and Draco were asleep inside the stone circle. Draco was lying on his back and had Ron's arm resting on his chest. Ron had buried his face in Draco's robes. Feeling a little bewildered, Hermione kept looking, but Harry wasn't there.

Everything outside the cleared ward was covered with a thin layer of snow. Hermione traced the tree line with her eyes. She recognised it by the lack of white powder on the ground where the forest started. It was only after she rose to her feet to get a better view that she saw him, propped up against a tree just outside the ward.

Stepping over the low white fence, Hermione approached Harry, moving quietly, as not to wake him.

"What are you doing up?" he asked when she was close enough to hear him.

"I though you were asleep," she said. "Why aren't you inside the protected area?"

"I'm awake, I'd hear an animal if it neared me."

"Why aren't you asleep? Aren't you tired?"

"I'm tired," he said cryptically.

"Well?"

"Well, I don't want to sleep. I get dreams when I sleep."

"That's the whole point of sleeping. You'd be dead within days if you don't dream. REM sleep is as vital as breathing."

"I didn't know that." Still, he showed no sign of arranging himself into a sleeping position.

"What's wrong? Do you have bad dreams again?"

"No. I have nice dreams. Sweet dreams. I can't stand it."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound too bad." She felt that this was going to take some time, so she sat down beside him, leaning against his tree.

"Malfoy was right," Harry explained. "Those dreams are Voldemort's gift to me. Hermione felt a chill go through her at the sound of the Dark Lord's name. "Those aren't my dreams, they're his. I don't want them. I'd rather have nightmares."

"Well, I'll check the library when we get back to Hogwarts. Another good reason to go there, by the way. I'm sure we'll find something to rid you of these dreams. In the meantime, you have to get some sleep."

"I will," Harry mumbled. "Later, I will."

He placed his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. Hermione put her head down against his shoulder and watched the sky over the clearing. It was probably cloudy, as very few stars were visible against the dark background. Harry touched her chin gently, and guided her face to his. Then, with delicate care that was usually kept for handling the most fragile treasures, he kissed her. His lips hovered atop hers like the wings of a butterfly. He felt as warm and pleasant as ever, but something wasn't right. She drew away from his kiss only slightly, allowing his forehead to rest against hers.

Not moving away from him, she spoke quietly. "Harry, you know I truly love you." He nodded gently, and Hermione could feel the rough edge of his scar rubbing against her skin. It was more a signal for her to go on, than an agreement. "But I don't think I love you that way. You're like the twin brother I never had. My best friend, not my lover."

"Great," Harry grumbled.

"What?" asked Hermione, fighting the urge to break the touch, so she could look into his eyes.

"I seem to be everyone's brother these days." He was grunting, but there was an amused note in his voice that Hermione took as an acceptance. He gave her a short kiss on the forehead and leaned back against his tree. "Good luck with Malfoy," he added after a while. "I hope he doesn't sacrifice you to his master."

"What?!" Hermione protested noisily, but got no response. Eventually, she gave up on him, and went back inside the ward.

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"Describe the potion for me," Snape ordered after he had finished brushing the ash off his robes, while receiving a brief report from Dumbledore.

Sirius was happy to see that Snape, who had arrived at the castle only minutes before, still had dog-shaped shadows on his cheeks. "It was purple," he said.

"And bubbling," added Mundungus.

"And?" Snape asked impatiently.

"And what?" asked Sirius with matching irritation.

"What shade of purple? Was it fuming? What did it smell like? What was the viscosity degree? How long did it take to evaporate? Was it hot? Was it cold? Warm?" He met Sirius' perplexed expressing with a jeering gaze. "Do you know anything at all about potions?"

"Apparently not," Sirius muttered.

Dumbledore saw this as an appropriate time to step between the two. "Severus, do you know of a potion that can cause this effect?"

"Several, actually," Snape answered with a patronising tone. "But I think I can find out which one it was by examining the sediment on Black's robe." He turned to Sirius with a sly smile. "If you'll be so kind as to give me your robe, so I can take it to the dungeon for examination."

Sirius gaped at Snape for a second. Then, he stepped away from the Potions Master, and went beyond Dumbledore's desk. With his eyes still fixed on the Snape, Sirius removed Gryffindor's sword from its holder. With a swift motion, as if he was used to this sword, he carved a large section of the hem of his robe and presented it to Snape. "Would that be enough?" he asked, a glint of victory in his eyes.

Snape examined the cloth. It was heavily stained and seemed to have absorbed a lot of some substance. "You were completely drenched, weren't you?" He looked at Sirius with astonishment. Sirius nodded, and so did Mundungus. "And you still didn't bother to remember the basic parameters? Unbelievable." With that, he turned around and left the room, the black cloth still clenched in his fist.

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Hermione frowned as she stepped over the ward barrier. The things Harry had said really bothered her. Could he be right? Did she possess such feelings towards Draco? She smiled wryly to herself. I'm even thinking about him as 'Draco'. Until a few days ago, I never would have considered calling him anything but 'Malfoy'. Not true, she corrected herself, I would have called him 'a git' or a thousand other, less flattering names. Not 'Draco', though.

She leaned against the low fence and looked at him. Sleeping, he looked so, well, harmless would be too strong a word. He looked temporarily incapable of causing serious impairment. For one thing, she had to admit that he was so handsome that it nearly hurt her eyes to look at him. Harry is handsome too, in his way. Hermione smiled again, thinking about his unruly black hair. Yes, but I'm not in love with Harry. Her next thought frightened her. Am I in love with Draco? I can't be. But then, why do I feel that way when he kisses me? She shook her head, attempting to shake off the thoughts. Harry's right. Malfoy will kill me.

She sat there, staring at him for the longest time. He had a pool of silver hair resting by his head; sharp, clear facial features and penetrating sterling eyes. She shuddered. She hadn't realised he was staring back at her until then. He seemed to have realised she noticed his open eyes, because he propped himself on his elbows and looked at her even more intently. Then, he looked at Ron's arm, wrapped around him, and jumped as if a red headed snake had bit him.

The confusion had control over Draco's face only for a short while. Then, he regained his composure. He inched his way towards Hermione, not taking his eyes off her and not even blinking. He kneeled down very close to her, and waited.

Hermione didn't know what to say. How do you send away someone when you're not even sure you want him to leave? She took a deep breath and then another. "Draco," she began. Her voice sounded hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Why are you up?"

"I just wanted to tell you to get some sleep," he answered in a voice softer than she'd ever heard him use.

"I'm not tired."

Draco made an unintelligible humming sound. "Come on," he said, putting an encouraging hand on her shoulder.

Hermione didn't move. "Did you mean it when you said that you were in love with me?" she asked. "Is it still true?" She almost swallowed her tongue after asking that. She had no idea where it came from. She put it on the lack of sleep and the tickling currents that projected from Draco's hand on her. Those made her almost unaccountable for her own words.

Hermione knew what was coming. She'd been in the same scenario with Draco several times before. He was going to kiss her. Passionately. And she would feel intoxicated by the mixture of his cold mouth and the waves of warmth he set into her. She shuddered slightly, but accepted the understanding that this time she wouldn't even try to resist. She'd have to ask him the question again afterwards, but she wouldn't push him away.

Draco, though only inches away from her, did not move. The only sign that he was still alive was his increasing pressure on her shoulder. Slowly, it dawned on her that he didn't intend to give her an answer, nor was he going to kiss her. She got to her feet with some difficulty caused by to his squeezing grip, and stormed out of the ward, beyond Harry's tree and into the forest.

Tears poured down her cheeks. How could she humiliate herself like that? She was almost willing to accept that Draco had changed. She could hear steps behind her, but she didn't want him to catch up with her. She had had enough of him for a while. She pushed away a loose branch and moved ahead. She heard the branch snap back, followed by a strangled cry. She stopped and listened. The same voice swore a little, and then the crunch of stomped twigs had resumed. "Ron?" she asked unsurely.

"It's me," said the familiar voice. "I saw you run away from Malfoy. What did he do to you? The heartless -"

"Nothing," Hermione cut in before he could dive into a Malfoy-hate rant. "Nothing," she repeated, looking at her feet.

"Someone as smart as you must have an incredibly good reason for running alone into the forest in the middle of the night." He took a step closer to her. "Now, what is it?"

"It's - I'm sorry. I'm just stupid. I thought he - he -" she couldn't say the words aloud. She could not admit to being rejected like this.

But Ron seemed to understand. "Come on," he said. He held her in a strong embrace and pushed her head towards the hollow of his shoulder. "You don't need him. You're a beautiful, smart, talented witch. You could have Quidditch superstar Viktor Krum or world famous Harry Potter. So what if the Malfoys are an ancient family? He has been disowned anyway."

Hermione couldn't relate to everything he had said, but his arms on her back were soothing and his cloak was soft against her wet face. She stood there, soaking his cloak with tears, until she felt dry and empty. She raised her head only to see Draco standing still, barely a few yards away. His face was tortured as if the weight of the world was upon him, or rather, as if the weight of the world had been used to punch him in the nose.

Ron followed her look and spotted Draco as well. "Don't get any closer," he said, holding Hermione even tighter.

Draco's old sneer was back. "Face it, Weasley," he drawled, taking a step towards them. "You will never have her."

"And neither will you," Ron retorted.

Draco stopped, seeming to wither under Hermione's gaze. "All right," he said, raising both hands to the air. "Since we're all up anyway, why don't we carry on this stupid search?" He turned his back to them and started walking back to camp, followed by the other two.

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"I wish he'd left you a note, or something," Remus said.

"Maybe he did," answered Lee. Oliver had once shown him a small hiding place where he kept his most essential belongings. "In case anything happens," he had said. Well, something had happened.

Lee reached the bed's headboard and tried to remember which nail he should push. "Oliver keeps all his important documents in here," he explained.

"Kept," corrected Remus in a sad tone. "Oliver kept his things there."

Lee was startled. The loss of his friend hadn't sunk in yet. He forced his attention back to Oliver's bed. The wood was smoother around one of the nail-heads. That seemed to be right. Lee tried that one, and the headboard slid aside, revealing a tiny cell inside the bed-boards.

As he'd expected, there were a lot of documents in there, and some coins, but there was also something utterly surprising lying on top of everything else. It was lurid white and reflected the light in a menacing manner. Lee reached in and picked up the hideously familiar Death Eater's mask. He stared at it in disbelief. "Do you think he was -" he trailed off.

"No," said Remus firmly. "It was obviously just placed there. This is probably what he found in the Ministry that prompted him to call you."

Lee gave it some thought. "You're right," he said. "Too many of his friends know about this hiding place. If it was his, he would keep it someplace more private."

Remus nodded. He didn't bother to correct Lee's use of present tense. "Put it back and close the compartments. We don't want anybody to get the wrong impression." In an even darker tone, he added, "Let's go see the family."

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The following few hours were an unending, nerve wracking wait. They paced the room in turns. First Dumbledore, then Arabella, followed by Mundungus, and finally Sirius. The latter two were so nervous, that they had developed odd looking tics. Sirius in his eyes, and Mundungus in his upper lip. After a while, they all became tired of walking around in circles and chose to sit down, staring at the door, willing it to open. Until, at long last, it did.

Sirius sprang out of his seat, knowing he would look very silly if the visitor was someone other than Snape. He reasoned that jumping like that, he looked stupid anyway. To his relief, the man at the door was the long awaited Potions Master.

"Severus!" Dumbledore called cheerfully. "Have you found which potion was used?"

Snape gave him an ominous nod. "It was the Nullus Dolor Potion." He gazed at Sirius, and Sirius tried to look like he'd heard of the potion. "I didn't know it was in the use of the dark forces, but if they are using it, that could explain their superior stamina in the battle field."

"Then why aren't we using that potion regularly?" asked Mundungus. His mouth curled in an involuntary twitch.

"Because it's illegal," Snape sneered at him.

"But if it's so useful in battle, why did that Death Eater pour it on them rather than himself?" asked Arabella suspiciously.

"Because it's also very dangerous." Snape's tone was deductive and emotionless, but he maintained his grave countenance. "He was probably afraid he'd absorb too much of the substance. That could cause irreversible neurological damage." He fixed his eyes on Sirius again. "How much of this potion actually touched you?"

"I don't know," Sirius said absently.

"Was it more than a few drops?"

Sirius could clearly remember chasing the dark wizards, struggling to run in his wet robes. He recalled pushing dripping strands of hair out of his eyes. Yes, there were significantly more than a few drops. "What does that matter?" he asked instead of providing the disturbing answer. "We're fine, so there was no more than we could handle."

"Unfortunately, that's not true," explained Snape. "It has a delayed effect." He looked at Sirius' tic. "Since I don't think you'd be winking at me, I'd say it's already begun."

"What's begun?" said Sirius, dreading the answer.

"The damage to your nervous system." Snape met Sirius' puzzled look and launched into an explanation. "Depending on the amount absorbed, it could be anything from a small tic to -" he trailed off.

"Death?" Arabella completed the sentence.

"If they took an extreme dose," Snape paused to take a deep breath, "yes."

"How much is extreme?" asked Mundungus.

"The recommended dosage is half a teaspoon," Snape began gradually. "Anything less than a spoonful would only cause minor damages." Everyone in the room fixed an impatient glare at him. "As for the ultimate amount, I don't actually know." He regarded Sirius through eyes that were reduced to narrow black slits. "Did you come in contact with more than half a cup?"

Mundungus broke into a hysterical laugh and fell to the floor. Sirius dropped next to him, holding his stomach and laughing his heart out. Arabella scowled at the two of them. "Yes," she told Snape. "They definitely absorbed more than half a cup - each. Half a bucket would be a closer approximation."

Snape said nothing to this. He kept his formal facade, but Sirius wondered if his trembling lip was hiding a smothered smile.

"Is there an antidote?" Dumbledore asked quietly. His sober voice brought the laughter to a crashing end.

Snape moved his head slowly from side to side. "There was no need to develop one. Just like there's no antidote to Veritaserum. No one in his right mind would think of taking an over-dose."

Well, we didn't exactly choose to pour this on ourselves," snapped Sirius.

Snape glared at him, and then turned back to Dumbledore. "I'll see what I can do," he said and headed to the door. As he left the room, Sirius could still hear him mutter. "Why I'm doing this is beyond me," were his grunted words.

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Draco was getting increasingly frustrated. He had tried to corner Hermione for a quiet talk several times already. It seemed that every single time, one of the other boys was in his way. They just wouldn't let him near her. And that horrible ferret kept on crossing his path. He managed to kick it on several occasions, but lately, it would just pop up in front of him and disappear again once it had been seen.

Now, the new day was dawning on them. They had walked throughout most of the night. He was tired, he was hungry, and surprisingly, he was upset that the amulet had indicated that they were very close to their destination. This was the time for extreme measures. Draco stopped in his tracks. "Hermione, I must speak to you. Before we go get the Pensive."

Ron stepped in front of him "Forget about it, Malfoy. She doesn't want to talk to you."

Draco ignored him. He stepped aside to keep in eye contact with Hermione, because talking over Ron's head was quite impossible. "Please, Hermione. We don't know what's guarding the stupid thing, and I just might not come out of there alive. This may be my last chance to say this."

"All right," said Hermione. She still glared at him, but that argument seemed to have touched her conscience.

Despite her consent, Ron still blocked Draco's way. "Move it Weasley," Draco spat. He circled around the ginger-haired boy, and stood in front of Hermione, so close that he could smell her hair. He wondered how it could still smell of flowery soap when none of them had been able to wash for several days.

Harry and Ron moved beside him. "Can we have some privacy?" Draco glowered at them. Hermione backed him up with a nod directed at the other two boys. Harry and Ron moved away, but Draco took Hermione's hand and ushered her into the forest thicket, just to be on the safe side.

Just like in the camp, so many hours before, Draco was dumbstruck. He stood in front of her, gawking.

"Is this about our little conversation back in the camp?" Hermione asked impatiently. Draco just stared at her, and she seemed to have taken that as a confirmation. "It's no longer relevant," she said harshly. "I'm sorry I ever asked that stupid question. Your answer was quite clear."

"No!" Draco said, but he was talking to her back, as she had turned to leave him there.

"Hermione, please listen to me." He grabbed her arm and forced her to wheel around. "What I feel for you, I haven't felt for anybody but my father." She seemed so stunned, that he no longer needed to hold her in place. "Respect. I respect you," he explained. He couldn't believe he was saying such things to any girl, let alone a Mudblood. "You, with your pretty eyes and your bookish wit have managed to erase seventeen years of royal upbringing."

"Royal pain, that's what it is," she muttered.

Draco smiled, and so did Hermione. She lowered her eyes slowly to his hand that was still placed very tenderly on her elbow. Then she looked back at him, her long lashes opening to reveal her kind, warm eyes. Every time Draco saw these eyes he was amazed at how beautiful brown eyes could be. He thought he could easily be swallowed into their depth. He could see his tiny reflection in her pupils getting bigger as he drew closer to her.

Then, he was so close, he could no longer see her eyes. He breathed deeply, taking in her bitter-sweet smell with all its intoxicating power. Her lips were cracked and cold-bitten, but as they willingly accepted his kiss, they were the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. He kissed her again and again, putting in every bit of emotion he had. The passion he had for her, the anger he held towards his father, the fear, the hope. Slowly, he felt liberated of his entire burden, as if it was drawn away from him through her warm mouth. Her own warmth flowed into him like a welcomed invader, filling every corner of his body with a sensation so good that he never wanted it to be over.

After what felt like no more than a few seconds, but was probably much longer, Hermione lowered her head, so he could no longer kiss her. He drowned his face in her hair and took quick, shallow breaths. "We should go back," she croaked. "I'm surprised they didn't come after us already."

Someone close cleared his throat. "Actually, we have," said Ron.

"You just seemed... Er..." Harry was stuck.

"Busy," Ron completed the sentence for him. "Are you all done now? Can we go?" He looked flustered.

Draco felt Hermione give him one last squeeze as he took a step back. He moved his fingers through his hair, and saw her do the same. He hoped that his motion helped more than hers. She was completely dishevelled, as well as flushed. He resolved to help her set things in order the first chance that he got.

Hermione checked the Amulet. Its pulse was more rapid, and was almost a single stretch of strong silver light. Hermione followed its direction into a forest clearing, her expression growing more perplexed by the minute. "That's odd," she said. "We should have been able to see - Ooh!" The last word was more a scream than a planned part of the sentence. Hermione fell backward, the amulet knocked out of her hand.

She sat on the snow, rubbing her head as if it had been hit by a rock. The three boys were instantly by her side. "What happened?" they all asked.

Hermione didn't answer. She formed a small muddy snowball and threw it towards the centre of the clearing. The ball was blasted only three feet away from the group, splashing them with bits of snow and mire. "There's something out there," she concluded her experiment.

Wet spots were left where Hermione's ball had hit an invisible wall. Harry got up and stepped towards the rapidly disappearing droplets, which marked the unseen barrier. He touched it gingerly, but whirled around quickly, hearing someone behind them. Looking over the heads of the other three, he acknowledged their new visitor. "Hello, Bane," he said.

Draco turned to look. The black centaur was only a few yards behind them. He silently rebuked himself for being so preoccupied with Hermione that he had let down his guard. "Hullo, Bane," he repeated after Harry.

"Humans," said Bane darkly. "You do not belong here. These parts of the forest are for centaurs only."

"We're here to get Professor Dumbledore's Pensieve," Harry said politely.

Bane stared at the full light at the eastern horizon. "Humans should not be here," he repeated.

Harry raised his chin a notch. "I'm not leaving without the Pensieve."

"As you wish," said Bane. He turned to leave when another centaur appeared. He had white-blond hair and a palomino body. He also had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harry, and then at Bane. "Firenze," Hermione whispered.

"Let them in, Bane," demanded Firenze.

"Neptune was especially bright tonight," said Bane, ignoring Firenze all together. "Treachery," he added.

"True," said Firenze gloomily. "I've seen what is to come. And so have you. You know you must let the Potter boy in."

"We keep the Pensieve safe from the evil that lurks in the forest," yelled Bane. "You were the one who got us mixed in the humans' affairs."

That would explain the hoof prints Potter saw at the night of the Yule ball, thought Draco. The centaurs took the Pensieve, while Goyle was busy taking him.

"And now it is time to separate ourselves once more," Firenze argued, moving nervously from side to side, beating his tail as if to rid himself of a stinging bug. "The memories have been sorted. We have no more business with the vessel."

Bane stared intently at Ron. "I've never seen that one," he said, kicking his back legs in anger. "All right," he said eventually, his voice dripping of contempt. "You may show the humans in."

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Wormtail knew very well what was expected of him. Good news. Nothing less was acceptable. But the news he was carrying was not good. Not good at all. Losing minions was one thing. Losing a cauldron full of Nullus Dolor Potion was quite another. He wished he could be anywhere but here when his master got the word.

He found his master in a position that was becoming a habit these days: Standing in front of the black and silver grate, pieces of walnut wood ablaze in a green fire. And an image. Three boys, a girl, and a horse - no - a centaur. They were moving aimlessly in a forest.

"Master," Wormtail started gingerly. "I've just learned of some disturbing news."

His master swirled to face him. The source of darkness moved with him and settled on Wormtail. "I already know," he said. "The one directly responsible has already paid with his life." A small smile played where his lips should have been. "At least he took two of my biggest opponents with him. Potter's guardian's one of them."

Harry's guardian - Sirius. He used to be Wormtail's best friend so many years before. That had changed radically. "Is he dead, My Lord?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Soon." Voldemort looked into the fire once again. "He put his life in the hands of a treacherous ally; my loyal servant." The image in the fire changed. It showed Sirius, lying as still as a pale log on what looked like a hospital bed. Snape was hovering over him, gathering what looked like skin samples. "Soon, he and his friend will be dead."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Firenze led them around something that was initially invisible, but as they walked, a large stone mansion started taking form beside them. Like in a dream, they couldn't exactly put a finger on the exact moment it had appeared, but it was obviously there now.

They kept walking around the ancient looking house until they reached a tall, arched entryway. The arches and pillars were engraved with centaurs carrying crossbows contoured against various sky charts.

Harry saw Hermione check the amulet again, before stepping over the threshold. Her posture indicated that she was pleased with what it showed her.

The gate led into a wide internal court. High walls, made of roughly cut yellow-white stone, surrounded it. In the middle, stood a small house, made of the same stone. Firenze stopped, and pointed at the structure. "The Pensieve is in there," he said and then, in a more brooding tone, added, "Good Luck." With a stamp of hooves, he was gone, leaving them to go the remaining distance to the cottage on their own.

Harry took a hesitant step forward. Then, seeing Hermione point the amulet to where the Pensieve allegedly was, he began walking more briskly. The inside was as empty as the outside, except for a low, wide marble pillar. The base of the pillar glowed a silver light. Harry knew that silver light. He approached the pillar, and began circling it, wondering how it should be opened.

"I think the Pensieve is in there," Hermione said, walking beside him. She pulled out her wand, pointed it at the pillar and said, 'alohomora'.

With a loud creaking sound, the pillar began to open up, like a flower bud at the touch of the first rays of the morning sun. Inside, silently awaiting, was Dumbledore's Pensieve.

Harry didn't even stop to think before touching the silvery contents of the carved stone basin. He was immediately sucked into an oval office room. Ron and Hermione were beside him even before the image of the room had completely cleared. Draco followed shortly after, and immediately set about scolding Hermione for rushing into the unknown like a mindless Gryffindor.

"But I am a Gryffindor," Harry heard her irritated whisper. She must have felt she might disturb the people in the room. Despite going through this experience twice already, Harry, too, felt uncomfortable intruding upon the completely oblivious occupants of the memory. It took him a few seconds to relax and concentrate on the conversation, or rather argument, which was being held.

One of the arguing parties was easy enough to recognise. He was Minister Fudge. A younger version of him, but the identification was without doubt. The young woman in front of him was more of a puzzle, especially since Harry had only seen her a few times, all very briefly, and all when she was in a rush, sending Sirius or one of his gang on a mission. Fudge using her name was what triggered Harry's recognition.

"Miss Estes," Fudge said harshly. "I've heard your argument on numerous occasions. The committee has made up their minds. The Azkaban prison will be guarded by Dementors."

"But Mr Fudge," she still argued, "you must know that those creatures will be the first to follow You-Know-Who when he calls. It's a sitting barrel of Quick-Fire Potion!" She smoothed her black Auror's uniform in a nervous gesture.

How right she was, thought Harry. It had been a year since the Dementors had abandoned their posts to join their risen master. Every Death Eater who was ever captured by the Aurors, was gone with them. The surest way to know someone was unjustly incarcerated was to watch him stay in Azkaban after everyone else was gone.

Fudge looked at her, his expression more benevolent. "Carole," he said, "Nothing will happen. The Dementors are loyal to the Ministry. The minister of magic has approved. What else do you need to feel safe?"

Carole Estes did not seem softened by his unctuous talk. "I need to know that the prison holding the most dangerous dark wizards in the country is guarded by -" she took a deep breath. "Guarded by someone who's not into dark magic."

"That's all right," Fudge assured her. "I will personally be in charge of the Dementors. You have nothing to worry about."

Harry felt a little snort escape his mouth. How little help the Minister of Magic was when the Dementors had left. The only thing Fudge was good for, was trying to capture Sirius, and luckily, he wasn't very good at that either.

Carole's objection faded. Harry looked around. The room was dissolving as if it was made of smoke. Everything but the four watchers had turned into swirling darkness...

And then, they were back inside a room. Again, Fudge was there, but he was much older. This memory couldn't have been more than four or five years old. He was sitting at the head of a large oval table. Several other wizards were present. All eyes were on one tall wizard who was standing at the other end of the table, talking. Animated hand movements accompanied his words.

"I'm telling you," hissed the standing wizard. "Dumbledore's responsible for the release of Slytherin's monster. He must go."

"Father," whispered Draco in a choked voice. He started walking into the memory, but was held back by Hermione.

Fudge rose from his seat as well, his posture projecting less confidence than Lucius possessed. "Mr Malfoy is right," he stammered. "Hogwarts' headmaster is in charge of everything that happens inside the school. Students were hurt, therefore, he should stand down from his position."

The other wizards at the table reluctantly nodded their consent, and the image dissolved once more. When his vision cleared, Harry was faced with a younger version of himself, getting off the Knight Bus in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He looked confused and frightened, and with a good reason. He had just seen Minister Fudge waiting for him in his pinstriped cloak, and was sure he was about to be expelled.

Hermione was by his side almost instantly. "I didn't know Dumbledore was there that night," she said.

Harry frowned in an attempt to remember, "I don't think he was," he said eventually.

"Than how did this memory end up in his Pensieve?" she asked.

Harry didn't answer. He followed the conversation only half-heartedly. His mind was on that night. What would have happened if he hadn't escaped Sirius in Magnolia Crescent, where he first saw him in his dog form? How much easier would his third year have been if he hadn't checked into the Leaky Cauldron for the last two weeks before school had started? Fudge's insistence that he stay inside the wizarding community had prevented him from meeting Sirius until it had almost been too late.

Harry's head zoomed with impossibilities he had considered long forgotten. He almost ignored the change of the scene, until he realised where the Pensieve had taken them. They were in The Three Broomsticks, in what Harry considered to be one of the most horrible days of his life. Right up there with the night Voldemort has risen, and Cedric had been killed. This was the day Harry had learned how his parents had died.

He watched numbly as Minister Fudge told the Hogwarts teachers the horrible story of how Sirius Black betrayed his friends, the Potters, and how he served them on a silver platter to the Dark lord.

Back then, Harry was all alone, sitting under the table, hiding from the teachers' view. This time, Harry could see every wizard and witch in the pub shudder as Fudge's story developed. Their expressions ranges from petrified to outraged, and when fudge reached the point in the story where Sirius had laughed over Pettigrew's body, they all seemed ready to tear Sirius apart, if he had just fallen into their hands.

Harry knew for sure that this part of the story was exaggerated, at the least. He had asked Sirius about it, and Sirius had no recollection of laughing. "If anything," he had said, "I was sobbing hysterically." But then again, Sirius could recall very little of that day.

Harry was surprised to see Dr Branford standing by the teachers' table, showing great interest in the story. The presence of a known Death Eater at his most intimate moment bothered him. Dr Branford was one of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters, right along with Malfoy, Avery, Nott and many others. Harry had seen him briefly in Rita Skeeter's house, where he seemed very willing to serve Voldemort. "Did you know Simon Branford was there?" he whispered in Hermione's ear.

"No," said Hermione. "But we were behind the Christmas tree, remember? I couldn't see much."

"I'd say he rather stands out," Harry insisted.

"You're right," agreed Hermione. "He is conspicuous in this yellow cloak with the purple stars on it. Maybe he'd left before we removed the tree?"

Harry looked again, to test this theory, but Dr Branford was no longer there. This, in his eyes, had confirmed Hermione's assessment, but Ron had a different view on the matter. "Why are you saying that, Hermione," he asked in a baffled tone. "You know that we saw him there. You even had something shrewd to say about his horrid cloak."

Hermione only had a chance to give Ron a confused look before the pub around them turned into swirling blackness once again. When Harry looked around, before the world began to take form around him, he noticed that the ferret had joined them in the Pensieve, and was now bouncing around them, waiting for the image to clear.

And it did. The Pensieve had now taken them into another collision between their past selves and the Minister of Magic. This time, it showed him standing over his infirmary bed, taking to Snape. Harry almost gagged. This sequence of memories was getting worse by the minute. It was almost like standing next to a Dementor, minus the coldness, which Harry was actually starting to get anyway. He was witnessing the night he had learned of Sirius' innocence, right after he had lost him again.

"What amazes me the most is the behaviour of the Dementors," said Fudge. He spoke with a mixture of confusion and anger. "You've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

Harry was surprised by the Minister's expression. It was almost as if he had been deeply disappointed. "You think he wanted us to receive the Dementors' kiss?" he asked Hermione over Snape's response.

Hermione shook her head dismissively, as they viewed Fudge insist the kids were confused.

"Of course he wanted you dead," sneered Ron. "Just look at him. He's obviously a Death Eater."

Ron's words fell on Harry like a sack full of Bludgers. How had he not seen it before? Hermione kept moving her head from side to side in evident denial, but Ron pressed on. "What better spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named than the Minister of Magic?" he said.

"He's right," Harry said gloomily. "Think about it: everything we've just seen; The way he refused to let the Ministry fight Voldemort, saying that he couldn't be back."

"And the way he's always putting off my father's promotion," added Ron. "Everybody knows it's because my father's a Muggle-Lover. Fudge thinks that he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"And do you remember the time my scar heart, before the third task?"

"Sure," Ron said with a mischievous smile. "It was right under Trelawney's nose. Was she angry when you went to Dumbledore instead of sharing your vision with her!'

"Exactly," said Harry. "And when I got to his office, this - this liar was there. He tried to stop me from talking to Dumbledore." Harry was getting overexcited. "At the time, I thought he was just worried about me missing classes, or he needed to speak to Dumbledore or something. I never imagined -"

Harry's words were consumed by a new swirling blackness. As the scene took shape around him, Harry felt the coldness take complete control over his body. What had started as a series of torturous memories was now complete with what was the most horrible night Harry could remember. The only potentially worst night he'd had, was the one his parents were murdered, but he had no conscious memory of those events. However, he still had vivid dreams about Cedric's death and Voldemort's reincarnation, and that's exactly what he was witnessing now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"How are they doing?"

Arabella turned to look at the speaker. Professor McGonagall was in and out of the hospital wing all day. She came over in between her classes, but rumour had it that she'd not taught much that day. Indeed, she'd tried to teach Advanced Furniture Transfiguration to the First Years, while the Seventh Years had been asked to transform mugs to tortoises throughout their entire double lesson.

Arabella said nothing. She no longer had the strength to vocally admit Sirius' and Mundungus' condition. She took a chair beside Krum, next to Cho's bed. Cho had tried to comfort her several times during the day, but no one so pale could be any consolation. To Arabella's slight relief, Madam Pomfrey took it upon herself to answer.

"They're the same," she said. Looking at McGonagall's sagging shoulders, she added, "At least they're not worse. I think it was a good decision to put them under enchanted sleep."

"Well, we didn't have much choice," said McGonagall grimly. "Not after they started having seizures." She turned nervously towards the door. "I wish Severus would come back," she said with feeling.

As if he'd heard her say that, Snape appeared in the infirmary door. He was carrying a decorated flask full of a radiant orange fluid. "Is this the antidote?" Arabella jumped.

"Possibly," said Snape. "I do not know the correct dosage, though, and it will not correct any damage that has already been done." He stared fixedly at Sirius' prone figure. "That is beyond my ability," he added in a lower note.

Snape approached Sirius bed, and Arabella watched intently as he measured some of the glowing liquid. As he slowly poured it into Sirius' mouth, Arabella felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Moony," she whispered, "You're back". His baffled gaze made her stomach cringe. She'd have to go through all this again. With as few words as she could manage, she explained everything to him and to Lee. They were both kind enough not to ask questions. "I just hope Snape isn't trying to poison Padfoot," she concluded.

"Don't worry," whispered Remus. "He hates me almost as much as he hates him, and he's been providing me with Wolfsbane Potion on a steady basis for years." He stopped whispering to release a short grunt. "Almost steady basis," he corrected himself.

Snape stood straight again, and seemed to be waiting. "Nothing's happening," said Arabella almost in a whine.

"That's because he's still under an enchanted sleep," retorted Madam Pomfrey, who had vast experience with these situations. "Severus, is it safe to remove the enchantment from him now?" Snape nodded ever so slightly. "Minerva," she almost demanded, "If you'd be so kind?"

McGonagall reached Sirius' bed, her wand in her hand. She had been the one to place the spell; for best results, she would be the one to remove it. Arabella felt Remus' hand tighten around her shoulder almost to the point of hurting. McGonagall tapped her wand on Sirius' forehead and murmured a few words under her breath.

Immediately, Sirius' back arched in what looked like terrible pain. A loud, agonised cry came out of his throat. Arabella darted forward, and before Remus could stop her, she was beside Sirius, patting his forehead and mumbling soothing words.

McGonagall's wand was at a ready to reinstall the enchantment, but Snape grabbed it, asking her to wait. It took a moment before Sirius' body slumped back to bed; however, after it did, he seemed completely relaxed. His breathing was shallow and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead; his eyelids began to flicker, and eventually, he opened his eyes.

He looked at Arabella and smiled, and then sent a hesitant hand to his mouth. "Last I remember, I was foaming," he laughed. "I'm not foaming now, am I?"

Arabella felt tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled back at him "No," she said. "You seem just fine." And then, she did something she wouldn't have dared to try, had it not been for Sirius' Veritaserum-derived confession. She kissed him. Gently, keeping in mind that he had just been through a very traumatic experience.

Sirius must not have been aware of the trauma he had just sustained, because he pulled her towards him with a force that made her stumble over his bed. He held her head close to his and kissed her with such passion she was glad she had already stumbled, because otherwise, she would have fallen then.

Mundungus must have received the same treatment, because shortly after, she heard his laughing voice. "Hey, Arabella, I'm up, too. Do I get a kiss like that as well?"

Arabella turned away from Sirius, happy that Mundungus' bed was just on her other side, and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Welcome back," she said. She was back with Sirius before his loud cries for fairness had subsided.

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Harry felt as if someone had forced a bucket full of ice down his throat. Even Hermione was shivering beside him. He saw Draco move to put a soothing arm around her, as the events raced forward to the moment Harry had woken up in the infirmary, bleary and drowsy, to the sound of a heated argument between Professor McGonagall and Cornelius Fudge.

He had been so sleepy then, he hadn't even noticed Simon Branford had been escorting the minister. As the voices became louder, Harry felt every single word Fudge was saying as if it was an icy dagger going through his heart. He had just learned, again, of Barty Crouch's bitter end. Fudge had made sure he couldn't testify about Voldemort's return. The Dumbledore inside the memory said as much.

"Why he killed them? Well, that's no mystery, is it?" blustered Fudge. "He was a raving lunatic!" Hearing these words again, left Harry windless. He knew how everything went on. Next, Fudge had called him a 'crackpot' and went on to quote Rita Skeeter. Of course. She was a Death Eater too.

Harry knew this was only a memory, but he couldn't take it any longer. He pushed away from what was his infirmary bed and rushed towards the door. Dr Branford had moved away from him just in time, but Harry's shoulder still brushed against his yellow and purple cloak.

Harry stepped out of the door and took a few deep breaths. His mind began to clear, and then it hit him. Dr Branford. If he was just a memory, shouldn't he have passed right through him? Or was it just his imagination that their shoulders touched? He dared a peep into the room. Dr Branford was standing there, right behind Minister Fudge, looking genuinely bored by the exchange of harsh words.

Draco and Hermione were at the other side of the room, both looking very pale. Harry could see Draco blanching further as his memory-self began naming Death Eaters, a list that had started with Draco's father. Ron was standing right next to them, smiling bitterly at the sight of his mother trying to push Harry back to bed.

Taking the longer way around, Harry approached the other watchers. If something was wrong with Simon Branford, he did not want to alert him. "Ron, Hermione," he whispered. He could see all three pairs of ears perking. "Did you notice anything odd about Dr Branford?" he asked.

"Is that what you find interesting at this moment, Potter?" Draco said angrily. Harry noticed Hermione squeezing his upper arm, and held back a stingy response.

"He has a hideous taste in clothing?" Hermione more asked than said.

"Aren't those the exact same robes he had on in the Three Broomsticks the year before?" asked Ron.

"They are," determined Harry. "I went by him a minute ago, and I think I touched him. Should I be able to touch a memory?"

Hermione raised her hand and then moved it right through the bed. "Apparently, not," she deducted.

Harry looked at Dr Branford again. He could swear Dr Branford was looking right at him. He slowly reached into his robes, looking for a wand, but the Death Eater Doctor was quicker. He aimed his wand at Harry and very slowly said, "You're right. I'm not part of the memory. Put your wand slowly on the ground, and step back.

Harry still had a wand in his pocket that had once belonged to a Death Eater he'd stunned. He pulled that wand out and dropped it on the ground. The wand landed with a muffled clink. He spread both hands aside, as if to protect his friends, and took a step back, pushing them away from the impostor.

Nobody moved while the subject of the memory-argument switched to giants. "What are we waiting for?" Harry asked, still holding the rest of the group behind his outstretched arms, although he could barely feel them any more, due to the overwhelming coldness.

Dr Branford smiled. "The memory sequence is almost done," he said. "I'm waiting to see you all outside together." The ferret bounced around him as he spoke. Before the background of Snape flashing his Dark Mark in Fudge's face, the ferret had transformed into a woman. A beautiful young woman, holding what looked like an ivory wand. "Oh, hello miss Centeno," Dr Branford smiled. "Glad you could join us."

The girl smiled back at him. "Good to see you too, Simon." With an unwavering wand, and hawk eyes still on the group, she moved to give him a long, forceful kiss. Dr Branford's hand on her hip was the only additional contact they made. "Please call me Aude," she said when they were done. Her voice was velvety soft and in complete contradiction to her assaulting posture.

Fudge had just dropped a large bag of gold on Harry's bedside table, causing both the memory Harry and the real Harry to recoil. The next thing, Harry felt himself rising into the air; the infirmary dissolved around him; for a moment, all was blackness, and then he felt as though he had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on his feet, in the same little stone house Firenze had led the to.

Everyone else was back from the memory as well. Dr Branford and Aude, the ferret-animagus were rapidly closing in on them. She flashed a wide smile at Hermione. "Thank you for leading them here, darling," she said. Hermione moved her eyes on the others, as if looking to see to whom Aude was talking.

Her image from earlier danced in front of Harry's eyes. She had been shaking her head vigorously. Dismissing the option that Fudge could be in the service of Voldemort. And it was so obvious that he was. Harry felt the coldness in him deepen. He had considered her one of his two best friends. Ron's reaction was similar to his. In the corner of his eye, Harry could see him open-mouthed, goggling at her. Even Draco held her at an arm's length, assessing her in the light of the new information.

"I didn't know they'd be here!" Hermione protested. "I'm not a Death Eater! How could I be? I'm not a pure-blood!"

"That's okay, dear," Aude reassured her. She took Hermione by the hand and dragged her away from the group. "You're not the first Mudblood to trade her life for the lives of her friends. They'll understand."

"The hell we will!" fumed Ron. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Hermione. Its tip began blazing with a curse before it was knocked out of his hand by a quick spell from Dr Branford. Ron set to charge her with his bare hands, but Harry grabbed him around the waist and pulled him back. "She sold us out!" Ron cried.

"I don't know," Harry said unsurely. He looked at Hermione's big brown eyes. They were wet with tears, and showing great distress. She was struggling against her captors, trying to rejoin the group.

"If anyone tries to harm her," Dr Branford spat threateningly, "I will personally chop off both his hands." He led the two girls towards the door. "Get out," he ordered, "All of you."

Harry stumbled towards the entrance, his numb legs barely carrying him. Why was that Death Eater protecting Hermione so ardently? The implications of the only explanation he could think of were too much for him to grasp.

Afternoon light greeted them as they came out into the centaurs' yard. The vast yard was completely full of wizards in black cloaks and white masks, but they weren't the only ones there. Finally, Harry understood the coldness and the numbness that had taken residence inside him. There were at least two dozen Dementors scattered among the Death Eaters. Harry didn't even think before acting on the instinct he had acquired back in his third year at Hogwarts. He raised his hand in the air and shouted, "Expecto Patronum!"

His beloved silver prongs bloomed right out of his bare fingers. It was less solid than the patronus he was able to create with a wand, but it was strong enough to gallop between the dark wizards and the Dementors, making the wizards scatter and the Dementors run for hiding. The ones that were not quick enough met a sticky end.

The feeling began to return to Harry's limbs, but the patronus alone was not enough to chase away the wizards made of flesh and blood. Harry, Ron and Draco stood in front of a court full of hostile wizards, with Hermione, Dr Branford and Aude Centeno at their back.

"I'm not going down without a fight," Harry said, raising both his hands defensively.

"Me neither," Ron poised himself beside his friend.

"Well, if we're dead anyway," muttered Draco. He pulled out his wand, and only then seemed to have realised he was the only one of the trio who was actually armed. That, however, did not last for long, as several 'expelliarmus' charms had hit him simultaneously. His wand was blown out of his hand and he was thrown half-way across the yard, where he slumped into unconsciousness.

As all eyes followed Draco's path, Hermione used the opportunity to get a hold on her wand and blast her way out of the arms of her captors. She stood back-to-back with Harry and Ron, keeping an eye on Aude and Dr Branford. "Do you believe me now?" she asked.

Ron didn't answer, but Harry nodded confidently. Then, he realised she couldn't see him, and with a firm voice said, "yes."

"Well," said Dr Branford. "Since Potter is obviously not going to kill the Mudblood, we'll just have to go for the next best thing." And he shot a curse at Harry.

Harry managed to deflect the curse back at Dr Branford, reinforcing it in the process. It had become strong enough to knock out both the curser and the woman next to him. Harry turned just in time to see Ron being hexed and land windless next to Draco.

The next curse was cast by Harry. He meant to use a stunning curse, but the form of wandless, aimless magic he was using was beyond his ability to control. The curse hit four of their assailants, disfiguring them in a way that left no room for doubt whether they were still alive. They couldn't have been. Not when so much of their anatomy had been misplaced.

"Try to use a stunning spell," Hermione advised between casting her own portion of curses.

"That's what I've been doing," Harry said, qualifying another Death Eater to join the Headless Hunt.

"Then use something softer, for heaven's sake!" shouted Hermione. "Use Furnunculus Curse, or Jelly-Legs or something." And Harry did. But the dark minions were still killed by his curses. They did it in a more dignified way, but they were still dead.

Hermione and Harry worked well as a team, defending each other, shouting short coordinating orders to one another. They fought fiercely, and were able to hold off the Death Eaters, but Harry knew it couldn't last very long. He kept casting glances in Ron's and Draco's direction, wishing them to recover so they could help the fight. His glances had become more frequent after Hermione was knocked out of action in a way that rendered his 'enervate' spells useless.

Finally, Harry saw Draco move. He sat up and assessed the situation. All he needed to do to get a wand, was reach out his hand and grab one of the many wands Hermione and Harry had been able to knock out of dark wizards' hands.

Instead of snatching one wand, Harry saw him pick up two. He used one of them on Ron, in what Harry assumed was an enervating charm, because in two seconds, Ron was on his feet, holding the other wand.

"Harry, come on!" Draco called to him. "If we link, Weasley and I will be able to use some of your powers." He made an urgent movement with his hands, and moved to touch Ron's Dark Mark.

Harry made his way in between the Death Eaters' curses. He jumped and rolled on the hard pavement to get to Malfoy and Ron. He saw the two boys link hands, and was stopped short, completely oblivious to a curse that used that opening to hit him.

Ron and Draco were surrounded by a black, semi-transparent sphere. Harry had expected as much. But that was not what caused him to stop in his track. The things that caused him such surprise were Ron's and Draco's wands, which were not pointing towards the Death Eaters, but at each other.

"Don't get any closer!" Draco shouted at Harry. Obviously, that had made Harry dash towards them. No one, no one, could terrorize him by holding a wand to his friend's head.

The sphere consumed him with smothering isolation the moment Harry touched its perimeter. His thought was so blurred by a red haze, that he couldn't think of any appropriate spell. He just punched Draco, knocking him to the ground and throwing himself all over him.

Harry only managed to throw two blows before he was completely breathless, and had to sit back and breathe. To his surprise, although Draco seemed perfectly capable of hurting Harry, he didn't. instead, he began shouting at him. "You stupid, stupid Gryffindor! Can't you for once do as you're told! You should have stayed out!"

"And let you kill my friend?" Harry tried to yell back. Instead of the angry yell, all he managed was a strangled screech. The red haze in front of his eyes was getting thicker at an alarming rate.

You git! Harry heard Draco's voice inside his head. He's the traitor! Can't you feel he's overcharging the Link to overwhelm you?

I'm not a sneaky Slytherin! Ron's voice echoed in Harry's head, as the sounds of explosion became dimmer, like something heard from underwater. He and his Death Eater friends tried to frame Hermione and now they're trying to frame me. How would I know how to overcharge a Link? Malfoy's the one's experienced with these things. You have to break the Link or he'll kill you.

"That's why I was trying to warn you not to enter!" Draco didn't bother transmitting his thoughts. "He's probably had some training. He's right about one thing. You have to break the Link or you're dead."

"How do I do that?" Harry choked.

Curse him, two voices echoed in his head in tandem.

Harry looked frantically from one accusing boy to the other. He didn't want to curse either of them. He had seen the deadly results of even his tiniest curses. "Ron," he said in a hoarse voice. "Get out. Leave me here with Malfoy, alone."

"I can't!" cried Ron. "I'm holding him back. If I leave, you're dead in less than a blink." Only then, Harry noticed how exhausted Ron looked. How utterly drained both boys looked.

"It's the other way around!" retorted Draco. He dropped to his knees, beads of perspiration forming on his temples, his hair sticking to his face. "Do it now, before it's too late." His body shivered in a way Harry had seen it do only during the last second of the MQ test. He was putting every shred of physical and magical ability into this.

Harry turned to Ron. He, too, seemed to exhaust his powers. But what Harry realised, as he felt the urgent need for a breath of air, was that he could not afford to wait until the other boys lost consciousness. He raised his hand with a tingling ears curse - the softest curse he knew. Time stood still, but his mind raced faster than it ever had. What if he cursed the wrong boy? Draco was the natural choice. A Malfoy; a Slytherin; a self-admitted Death Eater. But then again, both boys had told him that if he were there alone with the traitor, he would already be dead. So why would Draco initiate the Link with Ron, if he was the traitor? But Ron - how was that possible? He was his best friend. The thing he'd miss most. And he released the curse.

Before he was consumed by the sphere, Harry saw his curse hit its target. With the last of his vision, he watched Ron's body slouching lifelessly to the ground, and then he, too, fell.

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