Disclaimer: I don't own them. J.K. Rowling, in all her wisdom, does.


Part 8

By Ivy Blossom


"Is he alright?" Minerva McGonagall asked, concerned. She peered into the bubble, trying to make sense of the various numbers, charts, pie graphs and flashing lights inside it.

"Yes, he’s alright." Dr. Chen manipulated the bubble, showing her a series of statistics that made no sense to her. "You see? There he is, still very strong. Quite shocking, really! Mr. Potter really is a remarkable wizard. This," he pointed, "is his heart rate, and here," he pointed again, "is his magical strength. You see how strong he is? The possession itself didn’t sap his strength in any significant way. He just doesn’t realize what’s happened yet. Voldemort can’t sense him at all, thanks to Mr. Roskowski’s brilliant spells." No nodded toward to the large man beside him with a thick black beard, who was peering confusedly into the bubble. "He probably thinks the strain of the possession knocked Harry out, or sapped him into oblivion. But he’s very much conscious, just confused."

Albus Dumbledore sighed heavily. "It is as we expected. Voldemort has found his way here, and the Death Eaters are arriving." A small group of professors and doctors has moved away from the celebration into the small anteroom behind the great hall.

"They are contained, however, in the garden, for now." Severus Snape looked carefully into a small glass ball. "How surprised they will be. I don’t think they have any idea that we were expecting them."

Mr. Hemsley, the goblin, frowned. "He’s not carrying the charm anymore, is he."

Dr. Chen manipulated the bubble again. "I can’t tell from here, to be honest. Does he need to be carrying it?"

"Well, not necessarily. He did touch it, didn’t he Albus?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, he certainly did. It’s probably still in his pocket. He’ll be able to hear it, yes?"

The goblin nodded. "Yes, yes, both of them will be able to hear it shortly."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head sadly. "That poor boy. This will be quite a trial for him. It will be a task, patching him back up after this."

"I know Poppy. But do prepare for the Malfoy boy as well. He will need even more of your attention, I expect." Dumbledore sounded tired and sad.

Madam Pomfrey snorted.

Dumbledore sighed. "Now, Poppy…you know what they had to do to him to make this possible." Madam Pomfrey nodded, only somewhat sympathetically.

Professor McGonagall slumped down into a chair. "Oh, Albus, was it wise not to tell Harry what kind of danger he was in? I don’t think he even took his wand with him."

"He doesn’t need his wand, Minerva. Besides, Mr. Malfoy was carrying a potion that would allow him to read Harry’s mind; if he used it, which I expect he did, he would have seen it in him if Harry had been warned. We would have lost our chance, and probably would have put Harry in even more danger." Dumbledore was no where near as confident in this statement as he sounded. He felt terrible for using Harry this way. Were they really any better than Voldemort, using the boy to capture their enemy? As a tool, a means toward an end, as Draco had been?

Mr. Hemlsey looked pensive. "If Malfoy used that potion on Harry, he’ll hear the charm as well, Albus. That may work against us."

"Or for us, " Snape noted, still peering into the small glass ball. Professor McGonagall exchanged glances with Dumbledore.

"We shall see." He sat down, and waited.


Harry felt as if he were floating in a void. He could see nothing, feel nothing. He tried to move, but found that he couldn’t; he wasn’t even sure where his limbs were, or if he still had limbs. It was as if he had been bound and gagged, or if he had been disconnected from his body. This made him nervous. What had happened? Draco. Charming, beautiful Draco. He told me to run. Run from what? And that sphere, that came out of him, and came after me…went through me. Draco. What have you done? Harry realized something was dreadfully wrong. He struggled, but found there was nothing for him to struggle with, or against. Suddenly he heard something, and stopped trying to struggle to listen to it. Thub. Thub. Thub. It sounded like something rotating slowly, getting a little faster as he listened. Thub. Thub. Thub. As he stopped struggling, he began to feel something. It was his scar. It was pounding, pulsing with his heartbeat. As he concentrated on it, he began to see.

What he saw first was Lucius Malfoy. He was smiling at him, and speaking. He was pointing to a hole, a black void in the air next to him. Death Eaters were climbing out of it, one by one. Before he got a look at who they were, he found himself looking back to Lucius, and over his shoulder. There was a small crowd of Death Eaters there. He couldn’t tell what they were doing.

Slowly, he began to hear things, as well. He could hear himself talking. But, it wasn’t him, he was hearing someone using his voice.

"Yes, he’s alive," he was saying. "He’s still here, within me. As long as he lives, I can tap his power, use his gifts, the way he stole mine when he evaded my curse as a screaming baby, the little thief. He’s overcome now, unconscious. I shall feel him when he begins to stir. When he does, Lucius, I’ll need you to help me contain him, so that he does not stir again. You understand?" Lucius was nodding.

With a shock, he realized who it was. Voldemort. It came back to him now; the greenish black sphere, his scar burning, Draco looking terrified. Draco had brought him to Voldemort. Draco had given Voldemort Harry’s body. Draco had used his own body to bring Harry’s to Voldemort. Harry seethed as the entire plan unfolded in front of him. Liar. Traitor. He was a Death Eater after all. How did he get into Hogwarts? He knew Harry cared for him. He used him, he knew he could seduce him, use his own body as an ingredient in some…some potion to allow Voldemort into Hogwarts. You Bastard, Draco. I rescued you, and now you betray me. I loved you, and this is how you respond. You take advantage of it. Thub. Thub. Thub. Voldemort was speaking again.

"They will be aware of us shortly," Voldemort was using Harry’s voice to say. "We must make our attack now. Goyle!" He shouted. "Lead the others forward, quickly! We need to use our advantage." Voldemort looked over his shoulder, and Harry saw Draco.

The sight was shocking. He was crouched on the grass, shivering, clutching his cloak around his shoulders. Where his arms were visible, they were covered with scars and sores; his hair was dull and missing in patches. His face, which looked up into his now, was thin, tired, and deathly pale, his skin bluish purple under his eyes. He looked underfed, weak, terrified, and in pain. Oh Draco, what did they do to you? How could you chose him over me? Harry felt sick. Thub thub thub. Voldemort pressed a hand to his head.

Thub thub thub. "What is that infernal noise?" Voldemort said. Lucius looked at him curiously.

"What…what noise, Lord?"

"That…that thubbing noise, can’t you hear it? It’s getting louder." Harry was puzzled. He and Voldemort could hear it, but the others looked confused.

Lucius paled. "Perhaps…it’s an effect of the–"

"It doesn’t matter, Lucius. We have work to do. Bring me my wand." Lucius pulled a slim wand out of his sleeve and handed it to Voldemort. Harry could feel it in his hand, he could feel Voldemort manipulating his fingers. He was getting increasing control of his body. He noted that if could move his arm a little, but avoided doing so too obviously. It was clear to Harry that Voldemort couldn’t sense him. Thub thub thub thub. Suddenly Harry realized where that sound was coming from, and what it probably was.

It’s the charm, Harry thought. Dumbledore knew about this, or suspected it would happen. The charm, it’s a key for something. It’s going to help me break free. Thub thubthubthubthubthub.

Voldemort was casting a spell. Power surged out from Harry, hitting a barrier along the edge of the garden, which glowed green, and then disappeared again. Harry felt a start, as if he had been asleep until now. Now he felt entirely within his body, he felt almost entirely in control. He reached out, and felt Voldemort’s reserves of power, and his own.

"As I expected," Voldemort was saying, speaking softly now. "They have us contained. Zabini!" He shouted. "Be prepared, I’m going to take that barrier down. I–" Thubthubthubthubthub.

"What is that damnable…" Voldemort sighed, and held up his wand, concentrating. Harry could feel him touching the barrier, could feel him considering the source of it, finding its workings, looking for the key to opening it. "Lasciarlo," he whispered, and Harry could feel him attempting to draw on Harry’s power. Harry blocked him, thowing Voldemort’s reserves at him instead, diverting most of it away from the barrier. Voldemort faltered, and nearly collapsed. His spell failed, and Harry sensed his confusion. Such a simple spell, why can’t I do this? Harry had more control over both of them now than Voldemort did, still unbeknownst to Voldemort. Harry felt stronger, stronger than he had ever felt. He sensed Voldemort’s defeat, and his drained resources. Harry wasn’t as easy a target as he must have anticipated.

THUBTHUBTHUBTHUB. "Lucius." Voldemort whispered huskily. "Bring that barrier down." Voldemort pressed his hand to his temple, feeling drained. No matter, he thought. I have Potter, and I will soon destroy this blasted place.

The charm. Harry thought. The charm is weakening him, and strengthening me. I need that charm. Voldemort was drained now, Harry could feel his power receding inside him. He turned, and looked at Draco, who he found looking at him oddly. Get the charm, Draco. It’s in the pocket of my robes. Get it.

Draco felt that he was hallucinating, which was becoming a rather familiar feeling. He could hear Harry’s voice in his head. First it was confused, then angry. The anger had nearly killed him. You bastard, Draco. I rescue you and you betray me. This was not the way that Draco had pictured this meeting, but he realized how na´ve he had been. Thub. Thub. Thub. Voldemort had no intention of letting Harry made a decision; he didn’t intend to convince him of the wisdom of his ways. He only wanted to steal his power, his body, and simply inhabit him, like a snail. Like a parasite. Oh, it was a brilliant plan, and Draco hated him for it. Liar. Traitor. Thub. Thub. Thub. Thub.

What was that noise? He saw that Voldemort heard it too, but his father didn’t. Draco wondered. He could heard it near him, somewhere in the pile of clothes. Thub. Thubthubthubthubthub. Perhaps it was part of his hallucination. He wished he were dead. He was sure he would probably die soon anyway.

The others were ignoring him now. He was too weak to stand, so he crouched on the grass, trying to keep warm. He ran his hand through his hair, which fell out in clumps.

Draco saw Harry/Voldemort turn to him. For a moment, he saw a gleam of green in those blackened eyes. Get the charm, Draco. It’s in the pocket of my robes. Get it. Did Voldemort just order him to do something? Or was that Harry? Did he speak out loud? Was it a hallucination of Harry’s voice, or could he still hear Harry, the effects of his potion in Harry’s pumpkin juice? Draco had no idea, and had long ago stopped questioning the voice of Voldemort in his head. He reached into Harry’s robes, piled on the ground in front of him, and his hands touched something cold and smooth. THUBTHUBTHUBTHUBTHUB. He pulled it out.

The small piece of amethyst had a small, clear, polished stone in the middle. The clear stone seemed to be making the noise, rotating rapidly, vibrating in Draco’s hand. He looked up.

Voldemort had dropped to his knees, and Lucius was looking at him aghast. Meanwhile, Goyle and the other Death Eaters had broken through the barrier around the garden, and Draco could see them running up the steps into Hogwarts. Voldemort was looking over at him, and Lucius began whispering, waving his wand carefully.

Hold it toward me, Draco. Hold it up. Harry could feel Lucius spell working against him, trying to contain him. He felt as if a lid were closing in on him. Draco had heard the voice, he had heard Harry. He gripped the charm and held it up toward Voldemort and Lucius. THUBTHUBTHUBTHUB–

And the stone stopped rotating, falling silent. Voldemort’s eyes turned green, and he held out his palm toward Draco. Harry felt as if he were shrinking, but kept his eyes on the clear stone within it’s ring of purple. With a strangled scream, a greenish black smoke inched out of his hand. Blood dripped from Harry’s temples like sweat, his skin bubbled on his palm and up his arm. Harry was pushing Voldemort out, and the stone, trembling, but no longer rotating, was pulling him in.

Harry felt as if he were lifting Hogwarts up onto his shoulders as the full weight of Lucius pushed down on him. He felt the sludge of Voldemort’s consciousness struggling not to leak out through his veins, but slowly turning to a smoky substance outside his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, collapsed onto his knees, breathing heavily, blood clouding his eyes.

Just when he thought he could not bear up under the weight pushing down on him, he felt something warm and smooth and powerful touch his head. His scar glowed, bringing in a white, light strength that eased him, extended the reach of his own strength.

Good, Harry. You’re doing well. Force him out. He’s weak now, too weak to fight back. Harry didn’t know who spoke, but a foreign strength was there, bearing down on Voldemort, pushing back on Lucius. He was nearly gone, inching his way along Harry’s arm. And he was angry. Weak, but angry. In the last inches, Voldemort struck back; he lashed out at Harry with the remains of his power, slicing into his heart with a coldness like a knife. Harry reeled on his knees and fell, one arm still outstretched. You little whore’s son, Voldemort spat out. Harry felt his heart stop. He was no longer breathing. He felt the white strength in him take over, and press Voldemort out of his body. At the edges of his consciousness, he heard Lucius scream. He knew no more.

Draco watched Harry fall, and saw that ball of greenish black smoke form. Lucius, terrified, threw himself into the smoke, screaming. He disappeared, and the sphere of smoking thickened. The charm in Draco’s hand began to rotate again, faster and louder than ever.


Draco screamed as the sphere rushed forward, pushed him over, and, with faint screeching noise like fingers on a blackboard, was drawn into the charm. It glowed green, became hot, and then stopped moving. Draco passed out.

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