You Were Only Seventeen

Harry waited for Draco to start talking, filled with dread and excitement.  Besides the occasional distant whirr of some fanged frisbees, the huge room was silent.  With no windows to decipher how late the day had progressed, and alone with only Draco for company, Harry felt like he had all the time in the world.  

“Like I said, it’s a long story,” Draco began, “After you died, or at least everyone thought you died,” He furrowed his brows for a moment before continuing, “The dark lord made Hagrid carry your body out in front of Hogwarts.”

“That bastard made a speech about how you tried to flee and how everyone should just subjugate themselves to him,” Draco sighed resignedly, “Of course your side objected to that.”  

Harry frowned at the phrase, ‘your side,’ before paling at the much more alarming thought of Hagrid, the man who had always been there for him, had become basically family, being forced to carry his dead body.  Visions of Dumbledore’s funeral came to the forefront of his mind.  Harry forced down the lump in his throat.

“Neville actually,” Draco’s tone turned surprisingly fond, “Somehow took a sword out of the sorting hat and killed Nagini.”

Harry widened his eyes.  He had asked Neville to kill Nagini after he died, but he had doubts about him being able to kill the snake that had murdered Snape just an hour prior.  The fact that the last horcrux had at least died, making Voldemort mortal once more, filled Harry with hope.

“He was not happy about that,” Draco shuddered, “I’m just going to tell you now Potter, the Weasley’s, that Granger girl, all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, and the Dumbledore’s army group you started, they’re all dead.”

  Harry stared at Draco, his grimacing face, in silence.  All of the hope, that his friends somehow destroyed Voldemort after he died, drained out of Harry.  

He didn’t know exactly what to think.  Of course this was the most likely scenario for how things were going to play out.  Destroying all of the horcruxes did little to stop Voldemort’s power and his death eaters, only making him mortal.  

At first, Harry felt immense guilt.  This was all his fault.  If he hadn’t taken the fight to Hogwarts, hadn’t gone after the diadem, then the battle of Hogwarts wouldn’t have ever happened.  His friends were all dead.  Harry imagined Ron, Ginny, Hermoine, Luna, Neville, Mr. and Mrs.Weasley, and countless others, dead, and the image did not compute.

Hope followed guilt, as Harry once again realised that what Draco described had happened in a future that would not happen.  Harry could save Ron, Hermoine, and all of the people of the wizarding world who were brave enough to defy Voldemort.  He had time now.

With hope came loneliness barreling through Harry’s mind once again.  He could save this timeline’s Ron and Hermoine, but he would never again meet the same people who he knew in 1998.  Their deaths just cemented that fact.

“Of course that fucking bastard wasn’t content with killing everybody on your side,” Draco stood up and started pacing around the corridor, breathing heavily with his hands in fists, “Fucking Bellatrix!”

He kicked a broken table, “Ow Fuck, Fuck this!”

Harry, still reeling from the fact that everyone he knew and love was dead, was starting to think that asking Draco to retell what had happened in the months that followed his duel with Voldemort was a bad idea.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m telling you Potter.  You asked why I changed sides,”  He sat back down again and sighed, “Well I didn’t.”

Harry grabbed hold of his wand, pointing it at Draco in an instant.

Draco put his hands up, “Merlin’s beard, calm the fuck down!”

Harry’s wand remained levelled at his former rival, a known death eater whose family literally housed Voldemort.  He cursed himself for being so hopefully stupid, that he would somehow gain an ally out of a boy who at best proved to be a sniveling coward.

But something stopped Harry from casting a stunner, stealing the elder wand, and leaving Draco stranded.  Curiosity was probably the main motivation, but also the nagging disbelief over the fact that Draco and his family were truly under Voldemort’s control.

Images of Voldemort taking over the Malfoy’s home, embarrassing them, sending Draco on suicide mission to punish his father, and those moments at death eater central, where Draco had pretended like he had never known Harry, when he clearly knew that the swollen face in front of him was Harry’s, played through his mind.  

Draco continued despite Harry’s raised wand, “I literally do not care if you stun me Potter, I do not give a fuck anymore.  Just let me tell you what happened and if that doesn’t convince you to let me in on your little plan, which is probably going to fail, then go ahead and leave.”

Harry felt his blood boil at Draco’s dismissal of his plan, probably because the remark hit too close to home, but out of curiosity, he forced his anger down and nodded, willing to hear Draco out because this was still the first conversation he had had with another human being in a week and despite the human being an unlikable prat, he was at least familiar to Harry.

“Like I said,” Draco once again continued, “I didn’t change sides, rather my father thought it beneficial to remove our family from Magical England, we have some estates in France, and my mother wholeheartedly agreed.”

Harry once again found himself confused over Draco’s frequent mood and tone changes.  One moment he was cursing like a sailor and the other talking in his usual pompous overly snobby way.

“We tried to leave…Yeah we fucking tried to leave!”

Draco jumped up, fueled by anger, and started pacing around the corridor once again, knocking over a few knick knacks as he waved his arms in a wild gesturing motion, “But then that stupid fucking bitch Bellatrix-Fuck her!”

He kicked a piece of furniture again, which was thankfully cushiony, with such anger that Harry was momentarily taken aback.  

“She couldn’t just let us go.  Nooo, she had to murder her own fucking sister and brother in law, leaving me alive for just more fucking torture.”

Draco slid to the ground, laughing, as Harry just stood there.  He didn’t know what to make of the situation.  His former school bully was breaking down, repeating the mantra, “What the fuck, just fucking kill me Merlin’s Beard.”

So Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been killed in the timeline that Harry had unwittingly abandoned.  He couldn’t make himself feel anything about the fact, as bad as that sounded, still reeling from the fact that all of his friends had been murdered beforehand.

The story oddly made sense.  Back in the manor, with Fenrir Greyback and Bellatrix, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy seemed a few small steps away from a mental breakdown.  It was subtle, but from those moments and the ones he viewed in one of his Voldemort visions, Harry formed that picture.

So the family tried to escape the chaos of magical Britain being ruled by a megalomaniac, only for Bellatrix to somehow catch wind of the plan and inform Riddle of their planned escape.

Of course Voldemort being Voldemort, he didn’t respond well to his servants jumping ship, having Bellatrix kill them and keeping Draco alive for…something?  Harry wasn’t quite sure what Voldemort would gain from keeping Draco alive.  Well evidently not alive for long, but long enough to see his parents murdered.

Harry glanced over at the ground where Draco was still sitting covering his face with his hands and heaving.  He didn’t quite know if his former enemy was crying or laughing.  Either way, Harry couldn’t evoke any emotion except pity.  They were both kids stuck in a bad situation, both fucked over by their time and place.

Remembering the horcrux, Harry cast a wingardium leviosa and opened his mole pouch.  He hovered the diadem over the pouch and then stopped the spell, watching yet another horcrux fall into his possession.  Two down, three to go.

Harry wondered if possessing two horcruxes in close proximity would cause mood swings and irritability like the locket had.  Of course he wasn’t actually wearing the ring and diadem, but still.

“Do you want to hear the rest of my tale,” Draco’s voice, hoarse from yelling and crying, interrupted Harry’s thoughts.

Harry took in Draco’s bloodshot eyes and haggard appearance, noting the pure anger in his voice when talking about Tom Riddle and Bellatrix.  He fully believed that Draco was the Draco from his timeline and had truly changed his views on Voldemort.  

As much as Harry wanted to know every detail of what happened after he died, he knew that recounting that time period would cause even more pain and mental instability for Draco.  He already knew the jist of it, everyone he ever truly cared about was dead.  Harry saw no point in going over exactly how the rest of the Weasley's, the order, and the DA died. 

“Nope, I get the jist of it,” Harry sighed, “Voldemort,” Draco flinched at the name for the millionth time, “probably killed you separately with the elder wand because-”

“Because what?”

Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m getting there, Merlin.”  

A thought dawned on him, “Wait a second, how do you know about the elder wand?”

“I didn’t until this conversation,” Draco replied, “But based on the dark lord’s obsession with an all powerful wand and the way you're talking, it’s not hard to put the pieces together.”

“So this is the elder wand, huh, from the story?” Harry watched as Draco twirled it around, “Looks like Dumbledore’s.”

“That’s because it is,” Harry wondered how much Draco had pieced together, as Voldemort wasn’t exactly subtle about his goals, insane as they might have seemed, during those final days. 

“Okay, so,” Harry contemplated how to even start telling Draco his theory on why and how both of them had even ended up here.  There was so much background information, wand lore, that night on the tower, the elder wand and the rest of the hallows.  That wasn’t even counting the horcruxes.

“Do you remember that night on the tower, when Dumbledore died?”

“How could I forget?  The dark lord made me relive it over and over again a million times before I died,” Draco sighed, all the anger seemed to have poured out of him earlier, “Merlin I’ll never get used to saying that.”

That admittance verified Harry’s theory, “Okay so how much do you know about wand lore.”

“Not a lot, but I’m guessing the ownership of this wand is somehow tied to us? Because of the night at the tower.  And Voldemort wanted true ownership of the wand, which is why he killed me.”

“That’s, that’s actually pretty much what happened, or what I think happened,” Harry ran a hand through his hair, “When you disarmed Dumbledore with an expelliarmus the ownership of the elder wand went to you.”

“Wait,” Draco’s expression turned to disbelief, “All you have to do is disarm someone to gain ownership of their wand? What?”

Harry shrugged, “That’s what Ollivander told me.  I’m not doubting him because I disarmed you like a week before I died, so here we are, stuck in time together, co-owners of the elder wand.”

He leaned back, still not quite believing the situation at hand.

“Okay so,” Draco stood up and started pacing along the junk-filled corridor, “I somehow gained control of Dumbledore's wand, which is the elder wand, from the kid’s story, which somehow exists.”

Harry nodded.

“But the dark lord wanted control of the elder wand, so he killed me, but since I still owned the wand, it took me back in time instead of killing me-”

“Because the elder wand won’t kill its owner,” Harry finished, “Or at least that’s my working theory.”

“But why take us back to November of 1979?” Draco asked, “If I had a choice I would go all the way back to when the dark lord was a baby, then kill him.”

“I have absolutely no idea,” Harry had honestly been wondering the same thing, “For now I plan to do my best killing him with the prior knowledge I have now.”

Draco stopped pacing in front of Harry, sitting across from him in front of the couch he had kicked earlier.  “And what is that prior knowledge?  Do you have any idea how to actually succeed in stopping the dark lord?”

Harry was surprised at the lack of sarcasm in Draco’s tone.  His questions seemed genuine and desperate.

“I do,” Harry hesitated, “But I need to know that you're not still aligned with Voldemort, or hold sympathies for his cause.”  He knew he was being overly cautious now, but Harry still couldn’t stop all the memories of Draco supporting anti-muggle born and wizard supremacist ideology from going through his head.  It didn’t help that Draco had been marked and spent their entire 6th year trying to smuggle death eaters into Hogwarts.

Again Draco flinched, then his eyebrows drew together and he looked so offended that Harry mentally prepared himself for another fight.

“You seriously think that after the dark lord ordered my crazy fucking aunt to kill my parents, after half of my friends died trying to bring him to power, that I still support that bastard?”

Draco stood up again and started striding angrily up and down the corridor.  Harry could barely make out him muttering, “We were all so fucking stupid.  He ruined fucking everything.”

Harry sighed as Draco once again started acting like a lunatic, kicking the random broken antiques making up the corridor and heaving, stuck in a weird state between laughing and crying.

“Alright,” Harry said, “ALRIGHT,” he said again when Draco continued doing whatever it was he was doing.

Draco stopped, “I believe you're not aligned with the dark lord,” Harry walked over to where Draco stood, in front of the old warlock bust, “But do you blame me for thinking you still believe in that whole pureblood wizards are better than muggleborn carp?” Draco looked at the ground, “I mean you’ve been touting that line since our first year.”

“I don’t know,” Draco was still looking at the ground, “I don’t know what I believe in in regards to blood purity and all that,” he sighed, “I just know that my life was perfect before the dark lord rose again, like the fucking muggle God figure, in our fourth year and fucked everything up.”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to kill that bastard so my parents can live and the people I care about can grow up in a time where their lives don’t revolve around fighting a senseless war, trying to bring some megalomaniac to power.”

“But you won’t call muggleborns mudbloods or refuse to work with them if need be?” Harry asked.  

“I’ll try not to,” Draco attempted a half smile, though it looked more like a grimace.

Harry had already decided that he would share his plan with Draco and let him join in on the horcrux hunt.  His former enemy’s speech had struck a chord with him, as it was essentially the motivation that drove Harry to continue to fight Riddle in this time despite the overwhelming impulse to leave the wizarding world forever and try to make his way as a muggle.

Draco could also prove useful in obtaining the diary, as it was probably located somewhere in the Malfoy estate.  His connection to Bellatrix would definitely help in getting the cup.  Not to mention his overall knowledge of high up wizarding families who support, or rather supported, the dark lord in this time.

Most of all though, Harry desperately wanted a friend, someone to talk to, who he could relate to and use to feel less alone in this time where the people he loved most dearly either didn’t exist or didn’t know who he was.  He never thought in a million years that Draco would be the one to fill that void.

“Okay,” Harry said, “I’m probably going to regret this, but you're in.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Wait so two pieces of the dark lord’s soul are with us, right now, in that pouch?” Draco eyed the string around Harry’s neck, holding Hagrid’s moleskine pouch, warily.

The two were walking back through the corridors of junk, towards the entrance to the castle.  As Harry heard the sound of fanged frisbees, and eyed the stuffed troll, dragon eggshells, and mountains of books, he couldn’t help but think of the last time he had visited this room.  When Ron and Hermoine still existed and Draco and him were still enemies, fighting over the same diadem that lay in his moleskine pouch.

“Yep,” Harry closed his eyes and huffed a deep sigh.  His mind was fried from recounting the whole horcrux story and answering Draco’s endless questions.  As much as it felt good to relay the story to someone else, explaining Riddle’s backstory was exhausting.  

Not to mention that he hadn’t shared the fact that he had been, or was still?  Harry wasn’t exactly sure on that front, one of Tom’s horcruxes, that the reason he faced him in the forest was to damage his body beyond repair, severing yet another one of Voldemort’s links to immortality.

“Can the dark lord sense what we’re doing, through his horcruxes?”

Harry remembered the past 4 years, how Voldemort had not known where he was despite himself being a horcrux, but he, the horcrux, had insight into Riddle’s thoughts and actions.  A messed up part of him sort of missed that aspect of being a horcrux.  

He wondered if a part of Tom’s soul was still attached to him, though dormant due to said part of soul still firmly a part of Tom at this point in time.  Would that mean that 1 and 1/64th soul soul was now present in this time due to Harry?

“Not that I know of.”

“Okay,” Draco seemed to be contemplating the whole Voldemort’s soul being split into 7 parts story that Harry had spent the last 3 hours recounting to him, which was fair.  All things considered, his former enemy was taking everything remarkably well.

After walking past the bloodied axe and a case full of rusted steel swords, Draco stopped, “So now we plan on…” He looked at Harry.

  “Uh well,” Harry ran a hand through his hair.  He had only a vague half plan formed in his head, “The dark lord should be hiding his mum’s locket in that cave right about now, so I guess we’ll just check it out and keep on coming back until it’s hidden there.”

“And if it’s not we try to get the diary,” Draco said, “Merlin, I can’t believe a part of the dark lord’s soul was hidden in my house.”

“About that, any idea where that diary might be hidden, or how to get into the Malfoy Manor without activating any wards,” Harry thought back to his time in Gringotts just about a week prior in his original time.

“I have a couple ideas,” Draco replied, “As for the wards, I know how to get past those, or I might know, huh,” he looked onto an old coat of arms chiselled between a wall of broken antiques, “Actually my idea might not work, or it might,” Draco clapped his hands, “We’ll see.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that.  “Okay, well let’s focus on getting out of Hogwarts for now.”  He untucked the invisibility cloak from his robes.

Draco’s eyes widened, “Wait a second, I just realised something,” He grabbed onto the cloak, “Is your invisibility cloak the one from the story, like the stone,” Draco eyed the moleskine pouch, “and the elder wand,” His eyes went from the pouch to the cloak to the wand in his hand again.

Draco began to pace yet again, “So we have all three, that means we’re like joint master of death, or something,” Draco’s left eyebrow shot up, “If the story is actually true then doesn’t that give us some type of power?”

“Huh,” Harry had not exactly thought about that, “Maybe that’s why we time travelled?”

“After destroying the dark lord’s horcruxes’ we should look into that, as a way to kill him once he’s actually mortal.”

“I agree,” Harry responded, “But for now let’s focus on actually destroying the horcruxes.”  He was growing a tad antsy, as virtually the entire day had been spent talking instead of actively searching for a horcrux or destroying one.  Draco’s thoughts also centred around killing Voldemort, a feat Harry did not yet know how to go about.  For now, his only goal was to make Tom Riddle mortal once more, and he wanted to complete it as soon as possible, not drag it out just for more people to die.

“Yeah okay,” Draco agreed, as he stepped beside Harry.  A shaft of light caught his face and Harry once again revelled in how awful his former nemesis looked.  Gaunt cheeks, bloodshot eyes, pale skin, and an air of desperation that entirely contradicted his attitude towards life when they were kids.

Harry flung the coat over the two of them, noticing how it just barely touched the ground.  They would have to move carefully to avoid detection.  He took out the map, looking at Draco to gauge his reaction.  The marauder’s map would probably explain so many confusing instances that happened over the years to him.

“What?” Draco looked confused.

Harry had to purse his lips to keep from smiling as he pointed Draco’s old wand at the map and said, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The piece of parchment folded out, expanding in size, as lines formed the walls of Hogwarts and its many rooms.  The multitude of dots out on the quidditch fields and in the house common rooms, with a few roaming the halls, led Harry to believe that it was the late afternoon, right before dinner, as the dots of house elves in the kitchen were moving around rapidly.  A quick glance at the Weasley’s family watch confirmed the time.

He could make out some familiar names in the offices, Mcgonagall, Sprout, even Slughorn.  Harry wondered when Slughorn had retired, as his mind drifted to that period in 6th year, the calm before the storm, when his biggest worry after Voldemort was what the boy standing next to him was up to.

Draco’s voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts, “Wait, is this a map of Hogwarts?”  He looked towards Harry with a pointed look, who just smiled in return, confirming Draco’s suspicions.

“This really,” Draco studied the map once more, “This explains so much,” his eyes lit up as he smirked and Harry caught a glimpse of the boy he knew in school, “Getting past Umbridge in 5th year, knowing exactly what I was up to in 6th year,” Draco bumped Harry’s shoulder, “The secret behind your successes are finally revealed Potter.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded, thinking of all the times the marauders map bailed him out over the years, “This map’s helped me out tons over the years.”

The two waited a few moments, till the 7th floor corridor and adjacent ones were clear of dots, before carefully shuffling to the door and closing it behind them.  

As Harry and Draco moved through the corridor at a snail's pace, he wished that they had at least practised using the cloak before leaving.  Harry, having used the cloak with Ron and Hermoine before, had the muscle memory in place to not step too high in order to ensure that the cloak’s end stayed on the ground.

Draco seemed to be having trouble though, as he nearly tripped a couple of times, constantly whispering under his breath, “Shit,” and, “Merlin’s Beard.”  Harry led the way as they skirted the walls, towards the Gryffindor common room.

When they reached the Gryffindor common room, Harry whispered, “Let’s stop here for a second,” as Draco and him scooted over to a corner where hopefully none of the students presently walking up the shortcut staircase would bump into them.

Draco nodded as the two of them watched the 4 dots walk up the staircase, until the students filed out, sweaty and wearing Gryffindor quidditch practice uniforms.  Despite the first wizarding war being in full swing at this time, the four seemed happy, as they chatted about strategies before giving a password to the fat lady and leaving the hallway.  Harry’s heart hearts as he remembers walking up these steps with his own quidditch team, back in his own time, when his problems were isolated to once a year adventures, going away with the end of the school year.

Draco and him wasted no time in attempting to go down the stairs, which proved to be a difficult and time consuming task.  After developing a system of leaning against the stairway wall and slowly stepping down, one stair at a time, in unison, the two finally reached the tapestry at the end of the staircase, checking the map for passing students before stepping onto the third floor of the castle.

Luckily, dinner had nearly begun by this time, so Harry and Draco made their way to the one eyed witch statue, past the DADA classroom, nearly uninterrupted.  Most of the dots were either in the library, the common rooms, or making their way down the grand staircase, towards the main hall.

The rest of the journey to the statue went remarkably smoother than the first part, as Harry and Draco found their groove moving with the cloak.  Harry led the way, stopping in front of the witch statue and checking the map one last time before tapping Draco’s old wand on the witch's hump, saying, “Dissendium.”

The hump disappeared, revealing a slide.  Harry turned to Draco, gauging his reaction to yet another explanation for his exploits over the years.  Draco rolled his eyes as he clambered up the statue and slid down, with Harry following closely after.

“Well that’s a relief to be done with,” Draco sighed, “Now where does this passageway lead to Potter?”

Harry smiled in the dark, “Hogsmeade.”

“Lumos,” Draco said.  The elder wand lit up, perfectly illuminating the usual dark tunnel as if there were windows lining the side and it was noon.  Harry theorised this effect being due to the elder wand.

“So this is how you made your way into Hogsmeade all those times in 3rd year, huh” Draco commented after a couple of moments walking in silence.

Harry couldn’t stop an impish grin from creeping onto his face, “Yep.”  What he wouldn’t do to go back to that time, kill that rat Pettigrew before he could resurrect Voldemort-Tom.  

Harry mentally reminded himself to call Voldemort Tom from now on when speaking of the man.  He didn’t want death eaters tracking him down for saying the word Voldemort, messing up his horcrux hunt.

“So,” Draco said after another period of silence, “The dark lord’s real name is Tom Riddle and he’s a halfblood,” he started laughing in that deranged way again, “A bloody halfblood, Merlin.”

Harry mentally groaned, not wanting to deal with another one of his former enemy’s mood swings and reconsidering letting him in on the horcrux hunt.

“Bellatrix, fucking obsessed with pureblood this and pureblood that, murdered countless purebloods for a bloody halfblood.  My parents died due to a halfblood,” Draco’s tone turned angry, “Why the fuck did anyone belive his shite?  They should have done a bloody background check on him or something.”  He kicked the tunnel way, causing a few stray pieces of dirt to come loose.

“I mean how could your,” Harry thought about the timeline of when Draco’s family started supporting Tom, “grandparents have known, honestly.  And from what Dumbledore showed me, Tom was pretty charismatic back in the day, before he became totally deranged.”

“Still,” Draco sighed, anger dissipating, “And his name’s bloody Tom too.  How muggle can you get?”

Harry frowned at Draco’s distasteful tone when saying muggle and half blood, though he supposed that old habits die hard.  He grew up in a family where pureblood supremacy was seen as fact.  Harry didn’t entirely care about Draco’s prejudices, as long as he carried the same goal of stopping Tom Riddle from causing the destruction of the wizarding world as he had done in their time. 

As they neared the end of the tunnel, Harry turned to Draco, “We’re probably well within Hogsmeade by now, so I can apparate us over to the cave.”

Draco nodded, eyes set with determination, looking as if he was trying to muster up some type of courage.  The thought that this was probably Draco’s first time out of the safe walls of the castle since he had been thrown back in time, struck Harry.  

He pondered aparating them to another muggle motel, spending a day or two to come up with a more detailed plan, but shot down the idea before it was fully formed.  The fact that Tom was still out there, immortal and reaping destruction, gnawed at Harry, making him rest uneasy unless actively doing something to change it.

Without a word, Draco gripped onto Harry’s forearm, as he apparated with a crack, picturing the entrance to that cave which he had swam to with Dumbledore all those years ago.

Within moments the smell of salt wafted through as a breeze blew by, the open air contrasting strongly from the stuffy tunnel Harry had stood in prior.  He surveyed the scene, noting the familiar crack in the cliff wall below and to the right, marking the entrance to the cave.  

Luckily for the two of them, the full moon shone brightly.  Harry watched as Draco looked down onto the foaming waves below and shivered.  With Winter just around the corner at this time, it was rather chilly.

“The horcrux is over this way,” Harry finally said, as he motioned towards the pathway he had taken a little more than a year ago.

So they slipped and stumbled down the cliff face in silence.  After reaching the end of the path, where the only way forward was through icy water, Draco said, “Really, you couldn’t have apparated us down here?”

Harry shrugged, “This is where Dumbledore apparated me to when we got the locket.  It would figure for Vol-Tom has some sort of apparition ward around this place.”

“So we’re just calling the dark lord Tom now?” Draco asked, though he didn’t look as though he hated the idea.

“Do you have a better name?”

Draco looked pensive, then replied, “Fair enough.  Where’s this cave entrance?”

“It’s right-” Just as Harry started pointing out the familiar fissure on the cliff face, Draco interrupted, “Wait a moment.”

  Draco’s face remained stoic, though Harry could see the slight tremble of his hand gripping the elder wand, “You said that the dark lord-Tom-whatever, was here with Black’s house elf back in the day.  It would be just our luck to run into him again.”

That actually made sense.  Harry wasn’t as scared of Tom as Draco obviously was, but running into him threatened the whole horcrux hunt, making the man check his previous horcruxes, find the ring missing, and hide them in new hiding places, or even make more.  Harry shuddered at the thought.

But he didn’t know the exact date when Tom hid the locket, only that it had been sometime in 1979, as that was the year Regulus had died.  They were just as likely to run into Tom today as any other day around this time.  

A part of Harry hoped that today was the day Regulus faced death, drinking from the basin, replacing the locket with a fake and giving the real one to Kreacher.  He admired the original horcrux hunter and hoped, ridiculously, to somehow save him from the inferi and have yet another ally in his never ending quest to defeat the monster who would come to destroy everything Harry held dear.

At the very least, Harry didn’t want Regulus to find the basin empty, drinking the poison and dying from the inferi for nothing.  He planned to at least leave a note or something along those lines.

“So what are we going to do if the dark lord shows up?” Draco’s voice interrupted Harry’s thoughts.

“Umm,” Harry, still thinking of how to discreetly leave an unsuspicious note, pulled a hand through his hair, “If Tom’s there we’ll put on my invisibility cloak and hope for the best,” Draco scoffed, “If there’s no boat or inferi lake, we’ll just come back here every day and check.”

Draco gave him a very unimpressed look, “So if Regulus gets the locket before us we just what?  Somehow sneak into the Black house and steal it.”

Harry shrugged for what felt like the millionth time, “Can you think of a better plan Malfoy, Merlin.”

“My plan is that we come up with a better plan so that we both aren’t killed, again.”  Behind Draco’s superior attitude was a look of fear in his eyes, though that didn’t stop Harry’s blood from boiling due to his usual antics.

Harry rolled his eyes.  Draco’s worrying was going to get them killed, and with nothing to show for it.  There probably was a better plan, but Harry didn’t feel like taking the time to formulate one, as it would probably all go to shit anyway, leaving them to  abandon the plan and just wing it, like always.

“Fine,” Harry declared, “If you don’t like the plan then just wait here.”  

The last thing he heard before the icy water enveloped his senses was Draco’s superior little scoff.