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The long, gloomy corridor of Malfoy Manor.
The air was thick with the stench of decay mixed with death and fear.
The great, ornate table was lined with hooded, silent Death Eaters. At the head of the table, the snake-faced man lounged lazily in his seat, his red eyes gleaming with inhuman, cruel light.
He was speaking, his voice low, yet it scraped against every eardrum like cold snake scales. He spoke of loyalty, of the glory of pure blood, of... punishment.
"...We have a guest..." Voldemort's high, cold voice echoed through the silence.
The rasping voice slid through the stillness like snake scales over stone.
Then Draco saw Professor Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher who always wore a cheerful smile. She was bound by invisible forces and hoisted above the long table, her eyes full of terror and confusion.
A blinding green light tore through the dim room and struck her with precision. No struggle. No process. Draco heard the dull thud of her body hitting the table. Professor Burbage's face was turned toward where he sat, her eyes still holding the last traces of terror and emptiness, a single tear spilling from her wet eye.
He heard Voldemort summon Nagini with an almost affectionate hiss, and watched the great serpent glide forward, its scales rasping with a sound that set teeth on edge.
The serpent slithered to the still-warm corpse, opened its terrible jaws, and began to swallow the body slowly... The faint sound of bones crunching was amplified to an unbearable degree in the absolute silence.
The table was deathly still, as if even breathing had stopped.
Draco sat there, unable to move. His stomach churned, and cold sweat soaked through the black suit that clung tightly to him.
He saw the muscles on his father Lucius Malfoy's rigid face twitch faintly, saw Bellatrix's fanatical, adoring eyes, saw his mother's worried gaze as she gave him the slightest shake of her head... And he, Draco Malfoy, was one of the silent witnesses to this horrific feast.
—!
Draco woke with a violent start, his chest heaving, his forehead covered in cold sweat.
The familiar air of the hospital wing, with its scent of herbs and sunlight, filled his lungs, but it could not dispel the bone-deep chill left by the dream.
The cold terror coiled around his heart like Nagini's embrace. His grey eyes were still clouded with lingering fear, his pupils slightly contracted from the shock.
"Are you all right?" a voice asked from beside him.
It was Potter. He was standing by the bed with Weasley and Hermione.
"Bloody hell."
Draco's unfocused eyes sharpened. He saw the red-haired Weasley frowning at him. "Malfoy, is your courage the size of a fairy egg? Passing out in the Forbidden Forest is one thing, but getting scared like this from a nap?"
"Ron! Draco fainted because he was protecting me." Harry shot Ron a disapproving look, his brow furrowed.
Draco tried to push himself up, but his arms gave way.
Harry reached out naturally to steady his still-trembling shoulders, helped him sit up, and quickly grabbed a soft pillow to place behind his back. "Madam Pomfrey!" he called toward the curtain.
Draco gasped for breath, unable to speak, and could only let Harry handle him. He felt like he had just been pulled from icy water, cold all over.
He was wearing the standard blue and white striped pyjamas issued by Hogwarts. He had no idea when someone had changed him into them. They hung loosely on his thin frame, the collar drooping to reveal a pale, bloodless neck and collarbones, making him look terribly fragile.
Madam Pomfrey hurried over and waved her wand over him in light, precise movements, checking his condition. Her expression was focused at first, then worried, and finally tinged with obvious confusion.
"How is he, Madam?" Harry asked with concern.
"The physical shock and weakness have been addressed with potions, but..." Madam Pomfrey put away her wand, her brow furrowed. "His mind is severely disordered, and his nerves are highly strained. It looks very much like... post-traumatic stress.
"This sort of symptom normally only appears in people who have experienced extreme terror or whose lives have been under serious threat."
She looked at Draco's pale, childish face, her voice full of puzzlement. "How could a child like him, raised under the careful protection of his family, possibly..."
Harry squeezed Draco's cold hand firmly, trying to distract him, and deliberately made his voice light. "Hey, Draco, you know what? Hagrid's hut needs to be rebuilt, because..."
But Draco could not take in a word.
His thoughts were still caught up in the bloody dream and the cold reality of the Forbidden Forest.
He was certain now that the dark figure drinking the unicorn's blood last night had been Voldemort himself.
In his previous life, Harry, Ron, and Hermione, while still children, had somehow managed to thwart his first attempt at resurrection and bought the wizarding world three precious years.
If this time... because of his interference, because Harry had been sorted into Slytherin, because of any tiny deviation, they failed... Harry would die! The wizarding world would plunge directly into its darkest era!
The thought made his stomach spasm.
Draco looked up at Harry, his voice terribly hoarse. "Last night... that dark figure..."
Harry's expression immediately grew serious. He glanced at Madam Pomfrey, and seeing that she did not seem to object, he said, "After you fainted, I tried to drag you and run, but I had no strength left. We fell together." His voice carried regret.
"After that, a centaur appeared. His name was Firenze. He drove the dark figure back and saved us."
Harry glanced again at Madam Pomfrey, who was organising potion bottles not far away, then hesitated and gave Draco a look that said, wait a moment.
He turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Madam, Draco seems to have sweated a lot. His pyjamas are soaked. Could you please get him a clean set?"
Madam Pomfrey paused her work and looked at Draco, whose face was still pale and whose forehead was beaded with cold sweat. "Very well, Mr Potter. I'll go to the storeroom and see if there are suitable clothes." She pointed to a small cabinet in the corner of the hospital wing.
"If he's hungry, there are some pumpkin pasties and milk I keep there. He can have a little to tide him over. And don't disturb the other patients." With that, she turned and walked toward the storeroom at the other end of the hospital wing.
Once he was sure Madam Pomfrey's figure had disappeared behind the storeroom door, Harry leaned in close to Draco and spoke in a very low, rapid voice. "She's gone. Listen to me, Draco. The situation is serious."
"Firenze told me... that dark figure drinking the unicorn's blood is Voldemort. He also said that the thing being kept at the school is called the Philosopher's Stone. Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone. It can produce the Elixir of Life, even... bring back the dead."
He looked up, his gaze burning into Draco. "So our analysis was right. Snape must be trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone to resurrect Voldemort! We absolutely cannot let him succeed!"
So it was true...
Draco grabbed Harry's hand, the one still resting on his own.
"Dumbledore! Does Dumbledore know about this?"
Harry shook his head regretfully, his eyes dimming. "We wanted to tell the professors, but... Professor McGonagall didn't believe us about Snape at all. And we only heard this morning that Dumbledore has left Hogwarts temporarily because of urgent business with the International Confederation of Wizards. We're on our own now."
"But don't worry." Harry tried to comfort Draco. "With Hagrid's three-headed dog Fluffy watching over it, the Philosopher's Stone should be safe for now."
Draco broke out in a cold sweat. If things went wrong this time, Malfoy Manor would once again become that den of Death Eaters, full of slaughter and madness. He had to do something.
Not for any grand sense of justice, but to protect his family.
Family...
Draco's hand flew to his body, to the spot where the inner pocket of his robes had been last night, the pocket that had held the herbs he had gathered, the ones that might treat Astoria's blood curse. But all he felt was the soft fabric of the hospital pyjamas.
"Looking for this?" Harry seemed to have guessed his movement. He picked up a small, clear crystal phial from the bedside table. Inside were a few leaves with silver-edged rims.
"Madam Pomfrey found them when she was changing your clothes. I kept them safe for you."
Draco snatched the phial almost desperately and clutched it tightly in his palm, the cool crystal pressing against his skin.
"Visiting time is nearly over, children. Let Mr Malfoy rest." Madam Pomfrey returned with the clothes, her reminder carrying an unarguable firmness.
Harry nodded and said to Hermione and Ron, "You two go and help Hagrid first. See what needs to be done to rebuild the hut. I'll be along in a bit."
He turned back to Draco and explained in a low voice, "When we came out of the Forbidden Forest that night, we saw Hagrid's house on fire. The Norwegian Ridgeback dragon that hatched from an egg he won from a stranger. While we were in the forest, there was no one to look after it, and it set the roof on fire."
Hermione and Ron exchanged a look, clearly uneasy about leaving Harry alone with Malfoy, but under Harry's insistence, they left the hospital wing.
Only the two of them remained in the curtained area. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting bright patches on the white sheets, but it could not drive away the chill in Draco's heart.
"Malfoy," Harry said, not looking at Draco, his gaze resting on their joined hands. He spoke softly but with unusual clarity. "That night, in the Forbidden Forest, before you fainted... do you remember what you said?"
Draco's heart lurched violently, and his fingers around the crystal phial turned white at the knuckles.
Harry was silent for a moment, then looked into Draco's still-fearful eyes and asked quietly.
"Draco... 'Lord'... what does that mean?"
Draco's heart nearly stopped. He feigned composure and denied it flatly. "What 'Lord'? You must have misheard. I was terrified at the time. I might have said 'stop'."
Harry did not press. Those clear green eyes looked directly at Draco, not pushing, only calm.
"That night, you stood in front of me. And when the troll had me, you pushed through your illness to save me." His voice was very steady, but carried an unshakeable force. "I believe in you, Draco. I trust you completely."
The words hit Draco's cold, chaotic heart like a sudden rush of warmth, sending out ripples of complicated emotion.
Trust... a word he almost no longer deserved, coming from the person he had once most wanted to defeat and had most envied.
Harry stood up and left as well.
Draco needed time to process all of this.
He leaned back against the soft pillow and looked at the few fragile silver leaves in the crystal phial in his hand. He could not bear the thought of Voldemort not being killed by Harry, of the wizarding world sinking back into darkness, of his family being enslaved once again, and of Scorpius...
How could he let his son be born into a world filled with such fear and despair?
Even if the adventures of these three children seemed reckless and full of mortal danger, he had to get involved now!
Draco completely abandoned his earlier wishful thinking, the idea of handing Harry over to Granger and Weasley and hiding behind the scenes to make sure the general direction stayed correct.
After all, no matter how clever and brave Hermione and Ron were, they were still just two eleven-year-old children. And he, Draco Malfoy, at least possessed forty years of experience and memory from his previous life!
With that thought, a fierce determination filled him, bringing a strange, all-or-nothing calm.
Ignoring Madam Pomfrey's protests and her suggestion that he remain for observation, Draco quickly changed back into his regular clothes. He carefully tucked the crystal phial with the herbs into the inner pocket of his robes.
They had said they were going to see Hagrid. This was no time for helping rebuild a hut!
Draco ran through the castle corridors, his chest burning from the exertion.
When he finally staggered to Hagrid's hut, gasping for breath, he found a scene of wreckage. Charred timber lay scattered everywhere, and the smell of smoke still hung in the air. Hagrid was clearing the debris alone, his huge figure looking strangely lonely and...
Stupid.
"Where are Potter and the others?" Draco asked, out of breath.
Hagrid looked up, his hairy face streaked with tears, clearly still upset about Norbert being sent away. He blinked in confusion.
"Oh, them... they just left a while ago. I was just... just talking to them, telling them how I won that dragon egg from the hooded stranger at the Hog's Head Inn... They ran off in a hurry after hearing it, like they'd heard something terribly important." His face wore a look of complete, clueless bewilderment.
Draco's heart sank. "How long ago did they leave?"
"A little while now... maybe... twenty minutes?" Hagrid said uncertainly.
They must have gone to the forbidden room on the fourth floor!
Time was short! Draco did not know the exact location of the room, but as a Malfoy, he knew how to make use of the half-giant in front of him.
Draco took a deep breath and shouted at him in the simplest way that would strike Hagrid's nerves. "They've gone after the Philosopher's Stone! They've gone to stop Snape from stealing the Philosopher's Stone!"
Hagrid shot to his feet, his massive body stirring the air around him. His face filled with shock and alarm. "What?! How do you know about the Philosopher's Stone?! That's a secret between Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel! Dumbledore asked me to help guard it! How do all of you know about it?!"
His enormous voice made Draco's ears ring.
Draco pressed on while the iron was hot, his tone urgent. "If you don't go and save them right now, they'll very likely die in there! There's a three-headed dog in that room!"
Hagrid panicked. "I... I already told them! I told them the way to calm Fluffy down is to play him some music! I hope they'll be all right... maybe... maybe they'll get caught in the Devil's Snare. That stuff likes the dark and damp, and the more you struggle, the tighter it binds. You have to relax your body, or use light and fire..."
As he rambled on, he strode toward the castle with enormous steps, moving like a gale.
Draco ran after him, nearly out of breath, listening as Hagrid, without a shred of discretion, blurted out every protective enchantment and its solution one after another. Draco's mind was on the verge of collapse.
How could Dumbledore entrust such an important task to a gamekeeper who could not keep his mouth shut? Had the old man lost his wits? This was no different from publishing the secret on the front page of the Daily Prophet!
"Wait for me!" Draco shouted, his short legs utterly unable to keep up with Hagrid's pace.
Hagrid seemed to notice him only then. He stopped abruptly, bent down, and scooped Draco up with one arm, setting him on his solid forearm before charging forward again.
Along the way, they drew countless astonished stares from students and portraits alike, but Hagrid was oblivious, and Draco no longer cared about appearances.
Hagrid carried Draco all the way to the closed door on the fourth floor and pushed it open.
A blast of hot, foul-smelling air rushed out, nearly knocking Draco over as he jumped down from Hagrid's arm. He stumbled, but Hagrid's huge hand caught him in time.
Inside the room, the enormous three-headed dog Fluffy was pacing restlessly, all three heads letting out threatening growls, drool dripping from its fangs.
But when the middle head saw that it was Hagrid who had entered, the growling gradually subsided, and the hostility in those six fierce eyes faded, replaced by something like a whimpering plea.
Draco stood close to Hagrid, his heart pounding so hard in his chest it felt ready to leap from his throat. He watched as Hagrid patted one of Fluffy's massive heads soothingly and hummed a tuneless little melody.
He also saw clearly that next to one of Fluffy's enormous paws, the trapdoor in the floor had been opened, and a rather out-of-place harp sat nearby.
"Merlin's baggiest pyjama bottoms!" Hagrid let out a horrified groan. He shifted his huge body to the edge of the trapdoor and bent over, peering down into the bottomless dark hole. His voice echoed back in a foolish reverberation.
"...They've already gone down there!"