Chapter Text
“Who won this year?”
“We didn’t hold a Prank War this summer,” Ron replied to Hermione, pouting a bit. “Mum wasn’t too pleased when we tried to start one and her pots started singing and flying out of the kitchen.”
“We’ll have to split up the teams differently this year,” Ginny said. “Uncle Remus and Sirius should split up and lead the teams.”
“Shall we?” Remus asked, smiling softly at the fact that all of Harry’s friends had started calling him their Uncle as well.
“Fred and George should split up too,” Harry added. “I want to see how well they work against each other.”
“No, we can’t do that,” Ron said nervously. “The last time they went against each other, they blew up a bit of the house.”
“Oh, honestly Ron. Who told you that?”
Ron shifted uncomfortably for a bit.
“Fred.”
Ginny rolled her eyes, looking at Hermione pleadingly.
“Harry was cleaning one of the Black residences this summer,” she said. “He hadn’t any time to come up with pranks anyways. I was training Crookshanks for school. He’s very well-behaved. My parents are very pleased.”
“You can’t train a cat,” Ron protested. “Especially a cat that looks like that–like it's got a squished face.”
“Just because you don’t like him, doesn’t mean you get to insult him, Ronald.”
“But–”
“Mate,” Harry said, interrupting Ron’s protest, “leave it.”
Ron crossed his arms, huffing a bit. Harry patted his back soothingly, but reached over to pet Crookshanks. Ron might not have liked the cat, but Harry thought he was adorable.
“Are you ready for classes?” Neville asked, nervously turning the pages of his textbooks.
“School hasn’t started yet,” Ginny pointed out. “You haven’t got to read the books yet.”
“I really have, Ginny. Last year was…”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” Harry said with a scoff.
“He blew up a cauldron,” Ron laughed.
“Four times,” Hermione added with a roll of her eyes.
Neville turned bright red.
“How’d you do that then?”
“When Snape tells you to cut swallowtails diagonally, don’t cut them lengthwise,” Ron snickered.
“I don’t think that was the problem, though,” Neville protested. “Right, Harry?”
Just before Harry could respond to Neville the door slammed open. The car was silent as they stared at the intruder. Draco Malfoy stood proudly with a dark sneer on his face at the sight of them all.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” Harry asked, earning an unimpressed look from his guardian.
“It’s Draco Black now, and I’d love nothing more than to leave your presence I assure you,” he replied snidely. “However, I was sent to collect you for a talk.”
“Sent by whom?” Granger asked.
“Sent by someone much more important than you , mudblood.”
“Mr. Black,” he heard from the back of the car.
Draco’s eyes widened a bit at Remus, somehow glazing over him completely.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “I apologise, I hadn’t realised…”
“Professor Lupin,” the man smiled kindly.
“Well, I hadn’t realised there was an opening at Hogwarts,” he lied smoothly, pausing to look at the man’s tired appearance. “Nor that he would ride on the Hogwarts Express.”
“Well, I’m sure you know by now that Professor Lockhart is not fit to teach anymore due to an…incident last year. Professor Dumbledore reached out–never mind that. Professor Lockhart seems to have lost the greater part of his memory, I heard you were there?”
“Of course, I’m sure any Hogwarts student could tell you the story if you asked,” Draco nodded, turning a more analytical eye at the professor. “As for Lockhart’s unfortunate memory problem…well, I had nothing to do with his condition. Anyone can come up with a rumour. I don't think you should listen to Hogwarts’, Professor. At least until your second year as Defense teacher. If I might have a word with Potter.”
Remus twitched a smile, nodding at Potter.
“How do we know you’re not going to kill him?” the Weasel asked, standing quickly.
Potter stood, nudging the redhead back a bit. Draco rolled his eyes.
“It would be incredibly bad form to kill Potter on this train. Though I’m sure that’s the only reason I would need to speak with him that your tiny brain could come up with.”
“Oi!” Ron shouted.
“Mr . Malfoy,” Remus sighed, tiredly.
“It’s Black and I’m to send a message to Potter and only Potter.”
“If I’m not back in…” Potter glanced at Draco’s demeanour for a split second. “Ten minutes, send help.”
“Please,” sneered Draco. “If I were to kill you, I wouldn’t announce it in front of a professor. Do you really think I would do that?”
“No,” Harry replied, dropping his voice so low that only Draco could hear him, “though I wouldn’t put it past you to kill someone,”
“What makes you say that?” Draco said, his mask wavering for a second.
Potter appraised him, looking so deeply into his eyes that Draco thought he might be reading his mind. He held up his walls tightly, but whatever Potter saw was answer enough.
Draco held the door open for Potter, motioning for the boy to follow him inside the nearest open car. As soon as the door was shut, Draco started placing silencing charms around the room. Potter raised his wand.
“This isn’t for you, Potter.”
Potter scoffed. Draco said one more spell and dropped his cloak. Harry blinked rapidly. There were bruises and half-healed wounds covering every part of Malfoy’s body that Harry could see…apart from his face. Malfoy started rolling up his sleeves slowly, pain filling his sharp features. Malfoy was gritting his teeth so hard Harry thought he might hear a crack as his teeth shattered under the pressure. Harry reached into his bag and started pulling out potion after potion.
“What the fuck, Malfoy?”
“Language, Potter,” Malfoy breathed, but there was no bite to his voice anymore, “ and it’s Black . Four ribs. Three on the right, one left. Fairly certain I’m losing quite a bit of blood, but nobody seemed to care much. Don’t think anything has healed correctly. I shouldn’t have gone back to…I got tossed around a few—a lot of times. Something on my left forearm smells foul and…er…well, I do think I’ve lost…too much—”
Draco’s eyes shut, his body falling limp to the ground.
“Shit.”
Harry looked over the boy’s body, not able to see under his clothes, but Malfoy’s description told him enough. Black he corrected mentally.
“Bleeding first,” Harry muttered, thinking hurriedly through all of the books Remus had gifted him for his birthday.
Harry pulled Malfoy’s cloak out from under him and cast a disinfecting charm over it. Harry breathed slowly as he began transfiguring the large bit of cloth. The cloak lost its bright green sheen and got heavier with each second as he said the spell. When the cloak felt heavy enough, Harry draped it over Mal–Black’s body. The weight on all of his wounds at once emitted a groan from the blonde, but he didn’t wake. Harry checked that his breathing was adequate and looked back at his potions.
“Haven’t learned blood-replenishing. Merlin , Malfoy, what am I meant to do? Black . Fuck. I didn’t even know you would change your name let alone that it would strip you of your fucking magic! Sirius said he would be weaker…something about power being the core of the Malfoy…” Harry wrung his hands together worriedly. Malfoy looked extremely pale and wasn’t responding to his panicked rambling. “Don’t waste time, Harry. He’s dying.”
Harry carefully took the cloak off of Black, slightly relieved to see that the active bleeding had ceased a bit. He uncorked three vials of Laceration Elixir and poured them over Black’s jagged cuts. The pale skin stitched together quickly, but the bruises that laid under them looked just as painful. How the hell was Malfoy walking around like this?
Don’t call him Malfoy. Harry shook his head, looking for other pressing matters. He stared at Draco’s left arm. Just below his elbow had been pierced through with something slim and sharp. The wound was decidedly not the right colour. Harry gingerly picked up Draco Black’s left arm but the boy hissed, his eyes flashing open.
“Fuck. What–”
A look of pure hatred filled Black’s eyes as he glanced at Harry, but it dissipated in seconds. The blonde shook his head, sitting up, and looking over his own body.
“Wishful thinking, I guess,” the boy muttered, but Harry didn’t answer the odd statement as he picked up the next potion. “No questions this time? I figured you of all people would have something to say about—”
“Drink this.”
Black raised an eyebrow, but took the green potion. He didn’t hesitate and as soon as the potion had passed his lips, the boy made a face of disgust.
“Salazar, what the hell is this?”
“Store-bought. I haven’t learned how to make the potions you need.”
They fell into silence again. The blonde stared at Harry in confusion.
“First time you’ve been quiet, Potter. Nothing to say?”
“I was instructed not to talk to you unless absolutely necessary. Apparently you’d rather die than be forced to listen to my voice again.”
Harry cooly picked up the skele-gro, handing it to Malfoy without another glance.
“Who told you that?”
Harry gave a short laugh.
“What, did you forget?”
“Quite possibly.”
Harry looked back at the Slytherin, a look of confusion crossing his face before settling back into a neutral expression. Instead he pointed at a shining orange patch on Black’s skin.
“What’s this?”
He looked at his discoloured skin.
“Curse.”
“Which one?” Harry huffed, exasperatedly. “It might inhibit some of the ingredients in the–”
“Erm…This was the one that felt…”
Black glanced over the rest of his body, looking at certain points and muttering under his breath as his eyes moved. Harry’s eyes widened slightly.
“Do you not know?”
“Give me a second! It was after the…erm…Well, most of these are Cruciatus. This one wasn’t; it was…heavier. Burned like heavy wax. Iron! They turned my skin to iron!”
A look of horror filled Harry’s face at the proud expression on Draco Black’s face, as though he had just solved a complex equation.
“What?” Black asked as though nothing were wrong.
“How are you still alive?”
“It’s only right there, Potter. It barely stings, just fix it.”
“I don’t know how to fix that. I’m not a healer, Mal–Black.”
“I didn’t say you were! I didn’t ask you to give me a fucking diagnosis and a hospital bed, Potter! I just–Right…Fine. What can you fix?”
“What else hurts?”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Scale of one to ten, ten being the worst. Anything higher than a six.”
Black thought for a moment. His eyes turned glassy as he thought. He pointed to his right side, his right thigh, and his right ear.
“Got thrown against the wall, pretty hard that one time.”
Harry prayed the horror didn’t show on his face. He knew what it was like to be pitied and he wouldn’t pity Draco Black. Harry waved his wand over Black’s right side, muttering the one medical spell he learned to do correctly. He stared at the results of the diagnostic charm and hid his emotions.
“You’re quite good at hiding what you’re thinking, Potter. You should be proud. The healer I had a few days ago couldn’t keep the look of sadness out of her eyes. You barely look interested. Is it that bad? Am I dying? I suppose you’d look a bit more pleased if I were.”
“You’re delirious from blood loss, you’ve got multiple broken bones, a nasty ear infection, and you ruptured your spleen.”
“Hmm. Felt like something was ripping. Couldn’t tell if it was in my head or not.”
“It’s in stasis, whoever did that to you placed a charm over it so it won’t kill you, but it will hurt like hell for a long time.”
“Well, that’s unfortunate…What? Have I got something on my face? They kept most of the spells below the collar. That was kind enough. He wasn’t exactly very happy after the picture I painted of him in the paper. Ah, the stoic look on your face is back, Potter. I must be frightening you. I don’t mean to. All I could remember is the strawberries, so I…”
The blank look came back to Black’s face as Harry mixed a few vials, hurriedly going through his knowledge of potions. Uncle Severus had given him a new book. He took it out of his bag and flipped through the marked pages quickly.
“Only mix like potions when they’ve got the same base ingredient…”
He took one of his vials and poured it into a larger one. The colour changed from blue to a shimmery orange. Harry counted out the right amount of vials and mixed the potions carefully. Black was moving his eyes back and forth, looking at something Harry couldn’t see.
He realised after a few moments that he was staring at his shoulder bag. The glassy look in his eyes dissipated and the boy brought a hand to his temple. He stared at the vials in various stages of colour change.
“What are you doing, Potter?”
“Drink four sips of this once everyday. It should lessen the painful effects after two weeks. Don’t take too much or else it will have the opposite effect. It won’t get rid of the spells, they were meant to last. This will make it bearable. You should really go to a–”
“I can’t do that. I already tried that route as you well know by now. My Mother…” Harry nodded, refusing to comment on Draco’s unfinished sentence. “These are expensive potions. Do you need to be reimbursed, Potter?”
This time Harry did laugh. He looked back at the blonde, but sobered when he realised it wasn’t a joke.
“I made an abundance of these last year, Malf–er, Black. I harvested the ingredients myself. It cost me nothing.”
“Why are you helping me? I’ve been nothing but cruel to you.”
Harry had a contemplative look on his face.
“Someone once told me that ‘some people don’t deserve to die.’”
“That person must’ve been a Hufflepuff idiot,” Black laughed, looking at Harry’s confused face. “And you believed them.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
“About what?”
“ You told me that last year.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Potter and I remember everything perfectly.”
Harry’s face contorted. He held up a hand as though to pause the conversation.
“Wait, what were you doing all of last year?”
“Studying for exams that got cancelled because of your… heroism .” Harry stared in disbelief. “What? Do you remember something differently, Potter?”
“Apparently,” Harry muttered, looking back at the potions. “Once a day every day.”
“Sure, Potter…Is that it?”
“Do you need anything else?”
Black ground his teeth together, placing a fake smile on his face
“No, I suppose not.”
“Goodbye, Black.”
“Have the ten minutes gone up already?”
Harry looked back at Black with concern. The boy must know how desperate he sounded, how broken.
“What do you need?”
“Will these potions react poorly with–er…”
Black pulled a vial out of his pocket and gave it to Harry. He read the ingredients quickly, tapping his free hand against his side. Draco stared at his moving fingers that seemed to move without the boy realising it. He blinked as the vial was handed back to him.
“No, it won’t. It’s a mix of Laceration Elixir and a sort of coolant. Your body is working too fast for your cells to manage, this cools you down as well as supports cell regrowth. My potion will counteract the effects of the new curses enough to make the pain manageable. If I figure out how to cure it I’ll…er, I’ll give it to you.”
“Sounds like you don’t even need a potions class anymore,” Draco said bitterly.
“That potion is at the same level as the rest of our class, I’ve just learned how to mix them without turning the potions into a poison.”
“That’s good. Wouldn’t want to die.”
Draco didn’t even sound convincing to himself. He stared at his hands contemplatively. He felt Potter’s probing eyes, but the other boy didn’t ask. He was so different from the boy he had created in his head. Where had he gone?
“Who?”
Draco looked up, again not realising he had spoken aloud. Perhaps he really was going crazy.
“No one. The blood loss must be getting to my head.”
Potter gave him a long look, but still refused to say anything else. After a few moments, Potter huffed and left. As soon as the door shut, Draco curled in on himself.
“What’s happening to me?” Draco whispered brokenly.