Nearly

Harry sits clutching the cooling mug of hot chocolate tightly in both hands as he waits for either or both of his dads to return. The warm porcelain and the sweet smell of chocolate is soothing some of his anxiety, which is probably why he’s gripping the mug like it’s a security blanket… Come to think of it, mugs of hot chocolate is kind of his version of a security blanket and always has been. Ever since he can remember. After every illness and nightmare and heartbreak, his daddy has always made him hot chocolate to make him feel better. And he always does. He’s not sure whether it’s actually the magical properties of the chocolate itself, or just the love that his daddy puts into it, but it always works. 

It could work a little better just at the moment, he thinks. But he figures it’s working as well as it can considering the issue is yet to be resolved and neither of his dads is here with him. Harry sniffles a little and gazes down into the dark beverage. He can’t remember the last time he felt this miserable. 

What if his dad refuses to talk to him? 

What if they don’t make up today and Harry has to go back to Hogwarts knowing his dad is upset with him? 

What they never make up —

”Harry?”

Snapping his head up in surprise, Harry blinks owlishly at his dad suddenly standing in the doorway. The man has got his hands shoved into his pockets and is leaning sideways against the doorframe, frowning at the floor between them uncomfortably. 

”Dad…”

Sirius sighs and pushes away from the doorframe, padding across the floor and sinking down heavily into the other end of the sofa. He’s still avoiding Harry’s eyes — but at least he’s not so far away, and at least he’s not shouting, Harry thinks hopefully. 

”I don’t know what to tell you…”

”Oh…” Harry says in a small voice, feeling his hope sink into his stomach. 

”I never know what to tell you, it seems…” The man mutters, almost to himself and sighs in frustration, scowling down at his knees. ”If you’d’ve told me twenty years ago, or even five years ago, that we would be sitting here and that I would struggle to justify myself for…”

He trails off and shakes his head grimly. 

”Dad”, Harry says thickly. ”You really don’t think you and James did anything wrong?”

Sirius gives his head a half-shake, resembling an anxious horse thrashing its head nervously. 

”I’m sure Professor Snape did loads of horrible stuff as well”, Harry adds quickly. ”But dad. Honestly. That stuff I saw in his memory, do you really think that was funny? Or remotely okay?”

Sirius seems to weighing his words, but says nothing for a long moment. Harry sighs and starts talking again, anxious to make his dad see what he means. 

”I don’t know what all Professor Snape might have done to you before that day, but I can’t think of anything that would warrant that treatment — How would you feel”, he ploughs on stubbornly, before Sirius has a chance to retort and the man snaps his mouth shut again moodily. ”If someone did that to me? If I sat here and told you that yesterday at school, I was sitting outside working on a homework essay and before I knew what had happened, I was hanging upside in the air, and then Crabbe and Goyle came over and started taunting me, humiliating me in front of everyone and they all laughed at me… You would be out of your seat before I finished talking, halfway up to the castle ready to hex the pair of them—”

”Yeah. So? You’re my boy, it’s my job to look out for you — besides, you’re sweetest kid I’ve ever known, you don’t deserve—”

”All right…” Harry sighs, deciding he needs to change his tactics. ”How would you feel then, if you found out that it was me who’d done that someone else?”

”Well, they’d probably deserved it—”

”No-one deserves to be humiliated in front of the whole school!” Harry exclaims in frustration and then angrily tamps down the mental image of Umbridge running from the Great Hall croaking like a toad, because that is different damn it. ”Do you know anyone called Lovegood?”

”What?” Sirius frowns in confusion. 

”There’s this girl in Fourth Year. Ravenclaw. Her father is the editor of The Quibbler—” A look of comprehension replaces the confusion on Sirius’s face. ”— She’s always sitting on her own, because she doesn’t have any friends, because she’s weird, okay? Seriously weird. She says the stupidest things. But she’s nice enough. I mean, she helped me get my interview published even though there was nothing in it for her and I’ve never said a nice word to her, and I keep calling her Loony, like everyone else, even though I know that can’t be her real name… I’ve never even bothered to find out what her real name is… Anyway, the point is… What if you found out that I’d played a prank on her, humiliated her in front of the whole school… For no other reason than to cheer Draco up, because he said he was bored… How would you feel then—?”

”You can’t do that”, Sirius bites out. ”You can’t just make a comparison like that. This girl, she’s never done anything to you or to anyone of your friends—”

”And that’s the only reason you bullied Professor Snape?” Harry asks. 

”Yes!”

”It was all about revenge?”

”Yes!”

”So he started it?”

”Ye… Ehm… I mean…” Sirius trails off and squirms uncomfortably in his seat, his body practically vibrating with barely contained agitation. 

”So when did he start then, in Fifth Year? Fourth? Or was it from day one? This weird little kid with no friends, he suddenly decided to start picking fights with this group of four bigger guys, and he was so horrible to them that he needed to be taught a lesson — every day for, what, seven years—?”

”Okay, stop!” Sirius snaps. ”I know you think you’re being clever, but that’s really not fair!”

”You think I’m unfair?” Harry demands. ”You were four against one—!”

”Look…” Sirius snaps, his chest heaving with frustration. ”I get what you’re saying… Harry, I do… I agree that the way James and I behaved when we were younger was… childish… But we were never mean to anyone who didn’t give as much as they got, okay? Sniv— I mean, Snape — he hated James from the start and he was always rude to him, to all of us, so we were rude back, that is all… Then as we grew older, we also grew to resent each other more and we got a lot more — creative — in how we got each other… That spell you saw James use on Snape, that was his own spell, he invented that and he used it on James first! Okay? He wasn’t this innocent little victim that you make him out to be…”

Harry nods slowly, mulling all this information over in his mind. 

”That being said…” Sirius adds heavily. ”You’re right… We were four against one, and that’s not… Well, that’s not cool, is it…”

”No…”

”No”, Sirius agrees quietly. ”I’d like to think we matured a bit towards the end of school… and after. I’d like to think I’m not a bully now, although Snape does bring out that side in me, but that’s because — well, that’s complicated —”

”He doesn’t really have anyone, you know?” Harry mumbles. ”He still doesn’t really have any friends or anyone, like you have daddy—”

For a split second, Harry imagines he catches a glimmer of triumph in his dad’s eyes, like he’s happy about that. But no. He shakes his head. His dad can’t be that cruel, surely?

”I know you feel bad for him, Harry”, Sirius says. ”And I know you — like him — for some reason I’ll never understand, and I’m trying to come to terms with that — but I will never be able to be friends with Snape, okay? And believe me, that feeling is mutual. There’s just too much history between us, way more than you know and I’m not going to tell you about it now, but — It’s complicated—”

Harry frowns. That’s the second time his dad has said it’s complicated and it sounds like he’s talking about more than just childish rivalries.

”Did something happen?” Harry asks curiously. ”Did he do something really terrible? Because so far you’ve just told me that he disliked James from the start and would say rude things to you guys, and then that somehow escalated to a full-blown war… It seems like there’s a piece missing, something you’re not telling me—”

”Yeah”, Sirius says flatly. ”And I’m not going to tell you, either… You’ll have to ask your daddy about it, if you want to know—”

Harry’s heart stutters in his chest. Something is nagging him at the back of his mind, just out of reach —

Remus suddenly appears in the doorway, looking slightly frazzled. He tries to plaster a smile on his face, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

”Sirius”, he says. ”Can I talk to you?”

”I’m not going to tell him”, Sirius snaps. 

”Tell me what?” Harry frowns. 

”Nothing”, Sirius says. ”Look, Harry… James was my best friend and yeah, looking back at some of the things we did, I was a bit of a wanker, and he could be a tosser at times, but he grew up to become the second best man I have ever known —”

”And you didn’t turn out so badly, either…” Remus cuts in with a small smile. 

”Well, if the best man I’ve ever known says so, then it must be true…” Sirius says, smiling for the first time since Harry brought up the memory, but it quickly flickers out again as meets Harry’s gaze. ”I know it’s a lot, Harry… But do you think you can forgive your dumb old dad his deliquent past?”

Harry snorts softly. 

”Don’t be silly…” He mumbles. 

”Come here, then…” Sirius says gruffly, holding his arm out in invitation. 

Harry’s lips twitch hopefully and he eagerly scrambles over to burrow into his dad’s side. Sirius wraps the arm around him and hugs him close, giving him a quick peck on the forehead before resting his cheek against the top of his head and sighing. 

”Now can we eat…?” He mutters after a moment and Harry chuckles and nods. 

Harry returns to Hogwarts feeling slightly better about the whole thing, but far from okay. Talking it over with Draco helps him process everything again, but when he describes how the memory made him feel the blonde looks stricken, like he’d just said something rude to him and Harry frowns in confusion.

Draco quickly schools his face into a neutral mask once more and asks him what his dads had said about it, so Harry tells him the rest and the other boy nods, mumbling he’s happy they worked it out. 

”Yeah, I guess”, Harry says heavily. ”I still feel really bad about how my dad behaved though… I mean, I’m not going to keep holding it against him or anything, because he’s not like that anymore, but… If we’d been at school at the same time, I don’t think I would have liked him — And I hate that — You know—?”

Draco is staring wide-eyed at him again, looking for all the world like Harry has just hit him in the face with something large and flat. 

”What?” Harry demands, starting to feel concerned. 

”N-Nothing… I mean, yeah, I get that… I get it… That must be, ehm, terrible…”

”What’s wrong with you?”

”Nothing!” 

Harry reluctantly lets it go, but the blonde’s weird behaviour just adds to the nagging feeling at the back of his mind and keeps the unpleasant knots firmly tied in his belly. 

He’s hoping that once school starts again, he’ll be able to forget about the memory. But as it turns out, seeing his Head of House again and discovering that the man has apparently decided to pretend Harry doesn’t exist, only makes it worse. Especially when he makes his way to the man’s office on Wednesday evening for their regular Occlumency lesson and knocks on the door and gets no answer. He tries to catch the man’s eye when he sees him in the Great Hall the next morning, but Snape is clearly ignoring him. 

So it’s with a heavy heart and squirming stomach that he drags his feet to Snape’s office for a second time on Friday afternoon for his Career Advice meeting. This time when he knocks on the door, despite knocking so gently it’s barely audible, he can immediately hear Professor Snape’s approaching footsteps on the other side of the door and a moment later it swings open. 

Harry swallows and looks up into the man’s face, which is regarding him silently and calmly but avoiding his eyes. 

”Good afternoon, Sir…” Harry mumbles. 

”Mr Potter, come on in…” The Potions Master says and holds the door open for him. 

As soon as Harry steps inside, the memory of the last time he was here washes over him like a heavy wave and he stops dead in his tracks just inside the door takes a moment to get his breathing back under control. If Snape notices, he gives no indication of it.

”Have a seat, Mr Potter”, he says curtly, sweeping around the desk and taking a seat in the high-backed chair. 

Harry shuffles over to the slightly smaller chair in front of him and slumps into it. There is no Pensieve on the desk between them this time. Instead the wooden surface is covered with pamphlets similar to the ones that has appeared in the Common Room. 

”The point of this meeting is to discuss any career ideas you might have”, Professor Snape says in a well-rehearsed rush of words, fussing with a few pamphlets and avoiding Harry’s eyes. ”And for me to help you decide on what subjects to continue into your sixth and seventh years, based on those aspirations. Now. Have you got any thoughts about what you would like to do after you leave Hogwarts?”

”Er… I’m not sure…” Harry says. 

The truth is that out of all the pamphlets he’s glanced at during the weekend, none of the professions seem all that exciting to him. When he tries to picture the future life he’d like to have, he can picture the house he’d like to live in perfectly, and he can picture Draco by his side, maybe even a kid or two… And his dads of course, visiting them on the weekends and celebrating all the major holidays with them like one big family… But no job really comes to mind. 

The only thing he’s ever really loved, is flying — but if he tells Professor Snape that he wants to be a professional Quidditch player, the man will most likely tell him he’s an idiot and that he needs to grow up.

”Do we have to talk about it?” Harry asks, eyeing the many pamphlets hopelessly. ”Can’t we just talk about what subjects I want to take next year?”

Professor Snape seems to take a deep breath and then he tells Harry slowly but not unkindly, that it would be a lot easier to determine which subjects he ought to take if he had any idea of the type of work he’d like to do after graduation. Harry nods in understanding. 

”But I already know which subjects I want to take…”

”Yes, but—” 

Harry is suddenly alerted to the presence of someone else in the office, that he hadn’t noticed when he first came in, by a soft rustle of fabric behind him and he startles and twists around in his seat to see Umbridge sitting on a small stool in the corner of the office, with her clipboard and smirk in place. 

”As I was saying”, Professor Snape says sharply and Harry quickly turns back to face him. ”Some professions require NEWTs in subjects you wouldn’t have expected, so it would be illadviced to simply pick those subjects that you enjoy and discontinue others that are less enjoyable, when you might later on regret it… Potions for example, is a NEWT required by a lot of professions that you wouldn’t expect, just because the job doesn’t require brewing for instance, but it might require the understanding of the different properties of potions.”

”Well, I want to continue taking Potions, anyway, so…”

Professor Snape seems to grow an extra inch in his chair, but his face remains as stoic as before. 

Harry can hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill against her clipboard suddenly and grits his teeth, willing himself to ignore her. 

”Well, then you should know that I only take on NEWT students with an ’Outstanding’ in their OWLs, and at the moment you’re averaging ’Exceeds Expectations’ so you will need to put in some hard work in these last few weeks…” Professor Snape says and pushes a few pamphlets aside and picks up a folder that Harry assumes has his marks in it. ”And I see here that you’re averaging ’Acceptable’ in Transfiguration and Professor McGonagall only accept students into her NEWT classes that have achieved a ’Exceeds Expectations’ or higher in their OWLs, so if you want to continue taking Transfiguration, which I highly recommend for any career choice, then you’ll need to put in some more hard work there too… What other subjects were you thinking of taking?”

”Well, not Divination or Care of Magical Creatures”, Harry says. 

Professor Snape blinks and looks up at him in surprise and Harry feels his stomach jolt. This is the first time his Head of House has looked him in the eyes since he threw him out of this office two weeks ago.

”Not Divination or Care of Magical Creatures?” The man repeats. 

”No, Sir.”

”You’re averaging ’Outstanding’ in both of those subjects.”

”Yeah, I know, but… I don’t really like them, Sir, so…” Harry shrugs. ”Well, I like Care of Magical Creatures sometimes. It depends. I like when we get to take care of interesting creatures, but not when they try to ki— er —” Harry suddenly remembers Umbridge sitting behind him and quickly changes the subject. ”I kind of like Herbology too. I guess I like to work with my hands?”

”Do you think you might want to persue a career as an herbologist?” 

”Oh, no”, Harry says wrinkling his nose. ”I don’t like it that much. I’m not Longbottom…”

”Well, have you had a look at the career advice pamphlets?” Professor Snape asks in a long-suffering voice. ”There are plenty of professions that allow you to work with you hands… Healer, Curse Breaker, Dragon-tamer, Security Troll Trainer, Auror…”

”Hem, hem…”

”Yeah, I know”, Harry mumbles, quickly jerking his head back when it instinctively starts turning towards Umbridge, determined to ignore her stupid little cough. ”I know, Sir, but nothing really spoke to me… Do I have to decide now?”

”No…” Snape sighs heavily. ”Of course not, but it might be worth thinking about it some more… Do you want to take some pamphlets with you?”

”No, thanks, Sir… Do you really think I can get an O in Potions, though?”

”It’s not impossible, but it will require a lot of hard work.”

”Okay, yeah. I’ll work harder… I need to get at least three Os in my OWLs”, he adds with a half-shrug, when the Potions Master gives him a thoughtful look. ”But I really do want to continue taking it next year, as well.”

Professor Snape nods. 

”Well, it shouldn’t be a problem for you to scrape three Os, regardless of how you Potions exam goes”, he says, eyeing Harry’s marks again. ”You’re averaging ’Outstanding’ in three other subjects already—”

”Hem, hem…”

”—Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, like we’ve already talked about”, Snape continues in a slightly louder voice, but otherwise gives no indication that he has heard Umbridge’s cough. ”And, of course, your marks in Defence Against the Dark Arts have been generally high — Yes?” he adds with a hiss and finally acknowledges Umbridge’s presence when she lets out her loudest cough yet. 

”I do beg your pardon, Professor Snape”, Umbridge simpers in her ridiculously girly voice and titters. ”I was just concerned that you might not have Harry’s most recent Defence Against the Dark Arts marks in front of you. I do believe I slipped in a note…”

”Ah, yes…” Professor Snape says slowly, his lip curling in distaste as he plucks a pink sheet of paper out of Harry’s folder and holds it up between his thumb and forefinger for all of two seconds, before promptly sticking it into the back of the folder without comment. ”As I was saying, Harry, all of your Defence teachers have marked you quite generously and left some positive comments about your aptitude for the subject—”

”Did you not understand my note, Professor Snape?” Umbridge asks, without coughing first. 

Professor Snape’s dark eyes narrow into dangerous slits at the mere mention of there being anything falling outside of his comprehension and flit over to stare the woman down silently. 

”Only”, Umbridge continues, letting out another silly giggle. ”I’m a teensy bit confused about your statement…”

”I’m sure”, Professor Snape says coldly. 

”As you can see from my note”, Umbridge ploughs on undeterred. ”Harry has consistently been achieving very poor results in all his classes with me—”

”Then I think I see why my statement might have confused you”, Professor Snape cuts in delicately. ”When I say that all of Harry’s Defence teachers have marked him generously, I of course meant all his competent Defence teachers…”

A very heavy silence spreads out in the office. Harry stares at his Head of House in shock, counting the seconds ticking by, each tenser and chillier than the next, and not until he’s reached fifteen does he hear the scratching of Umbridge’s quill on his clipboard again. 

Professor Snape’s cold glare finally flits away from the woman again and Harry releases the breath he’s unwittingly been holding in. 

”I believe that concludes our career consultation, Harry…”

”Yes, Sir”, Harry says, emphatically relieved to be dismissed and hops off the chair eagerly. 

But when he reaches the door, he hesitates. What if, once he’s walked out this door, Professor Snape will go back to ignoring his existence? This is his chance to talk to him and try and set things right. 

”Is there a problem, Harry?”

Swallowing his fear, Harry turns back around. Keenly aware of Umbridge’s suspicious glare, he asks the Potions Master for a word in private.

”Mr Potter”, Umbridge says, all traces of sweetness gone from her voice. ”As High Inquisitor I have the right to supervise any and all official meetings between the teachers and the students of this school—”

”Fine”, Harry says curtly. ”I just wanted to talk to my Head of House about — these feelings — I’ve been having — erm, about a classmate, and er — dreams too — and I when I wake up my pyjamas are always we—”

”Right!” Umbridge says shrilly, her flabby cheeks burning a vivid red and the clipboard nearly tumbling out of her hands when she hops down from her stool. ”That’s — right — well, I must be going! Other meetings to — yes —”

Harry and Professor Snape stare in silence as the woman bustles out of the office and slams the door shut behind her. 

Harry quickly turns back to Snape and catches an amused twitch of the man’s lips before he schools his face into his usual stoic mask and meets Harry’s eyes. 

”I sincerely hope you said that to get rid of her, Mr Potter. Because I will not now — nor ever — discuss such feelings with you…”

Harry feels his face flush hotly, but smiles wryly and shakes his head. 

”Good”, Snape says shortly. ”So what did you want to discuss with me?”

”Nothing, Sir”, Harry says and takes a deep breath to steel himself. ”I wanted to apologise again.”

”No need”, the other man says swiftly, avoiding Harry’s eyes as he begins to sort through the different pamphlets on his desk. 

”Nevertheless”, Harry mumbles. ”I feel awful…”

”I’m sorry to hear that”, Snape says drily, sounding anything but. 

”I didn’t know… My dads, they never said anything about… About anything like that — I had no idea—”

”Harry”, Snape interrupts and finally looks up and meets his eyes again. ”It’s fine.”

”Okay…” Harry mumbles awkwardly. ”And… And I’m also sorry for—”

”I said it’s fine”, Snape says curtly. ”Forget it. It’s done.”

”So… So will you give me another chance?” Harry asks in a small voice. 

Professor Snape seems to startle slightly at that and looks up at him again. 

”Another chance?” He repeats warily. 

Harry swallows hard and nods. Snape’s eyes flit away again, feigning interest in the pamphlet about training security trolls. 

”Of course. We will resume your lessons next week, at the regular time. Now get to class.”

”Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir…”

*

In a freakish show of conviviality, possibly to celebrate the end of their first week back after the Easter holidays, the Weasley twins decide to launch their third instalment of Project Make-Umbitch’s-Life-A-Living-Hell and turn her entire office into a swamp. 

When Seamus relays the news to them, Harry blinks and gives his head a small shake, sure he must have misheard him. 

”That’s right”, the Irish boy says gleefully. ”The whole office turned into a bonafide swamp, toads and all—!”

”Wait — a swamp?” Daphne repeats incredulously. 

”Yep — wall to wall of stinking swamp water and even after she opened the door and some of it spilled out into the corridor, it’s still five feet deep (guess it’s spelled that way) — those twins are not mucking about — well, I guess technically —” he trails off with a raucous laugh. 

”Wow, you get your moneys worth with those two, don’t you…” Blaise comments lightly. 

 As springs draws to a close, the Fifth Years are beginning to really feel the heat — and not because the days are getting warmer, but because the dreaded OWLs, that they’ve been warned about and preparing for all year, are now no longer the cautionary tale told by teachers to get them to do homework, but an actual reality looming on the horizon. 

Taking Professor Snape’s words to heart, Harry submerges himself completely in his Potions, Transfigurations and Charms revisions, which are the subjects he finds the hardest but also the most important ones for him to continue next year, while Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy and History of Magic, and even Herbology, are more of an afterthought. He knows he’ll need to pass all of them or his daddy will be disappointed, but they’re not nearly as important to Harry — unless he discovers a sudden passion for plants halfway through sixth year and decides he wants to pursue a career as an herbologist after all, but that seems very unlikely. 

Then of course there is Defence Against the Dark Arts, which used to be Harry’s best subject until Umbridge started teaching it… And it’s true what the woman told Professor Snape during Harry’s career advice meeting, his results have been declining all year. But, he tells himself bracingly, the OWL examination won’t have been designed by Umbridge nor will it be conducted by her, so he should stand a good chance at passing it. 

But the fact of the matter is that Harry always struggled to absorb information from just reading books or listening to lectures (especially when they’re by the likes of Umbridge, who repels curiosity) and finds it a lot easier to connect the dots and memorise facts when he puts them into a practical context — and because Umbridge has forbidden them to actually perform any of the defensive spells they’ve been learning all year, there is a significant risk that Harry will fail the theoretical as well as the practical…

Maybe I should have joined Granger’s Defence group, after all, he thinks glumly as he stares at the textbook in front of him, unable to process the words on the page even though it’s the third time he’s read this paragraph. 

Feeling the familiar prickling sensation of being stared at, Harry glances up and catches Umbridge staring at him with a gloating smile stretching her podgy face. Harry grits his teeth and returns his focus back to the book with determination. 

I am going to pass this OWL, if it kills me, he thinks vehemently.

Finally the bell rings and as always, Harry is the first student to stuff his Dark Arts Defence — Basics for Beginners into his bookbag and spring to his feet, but before he’s taken even a step towards the door Umbridge lets out one of her little coughs and calls his name. Harry’s stomach squirms unpleasantly and he turns around slowly. 

”A word with you please…” Umbridge titters. 

Harry stays rooted to the spot, counting slowly in his head while he waits for the other students to leave the classroom. His friends send him sympathetic looks over the shoulders, then disappear out of the door as well, leaving him all alone with the Toad. 

”Have a seat, Mr Potter.”

Harry sinks down sideways into the nearest chair, perching tensely on the edge of the seat. 

”Well…” Umbridge says curtly. ”What would you like to drink?”

”What?” Harry blinks, sure he must have imagined the question, but when he looks up to meet Umbridge’s eyes she is smiling widely at him and repeats the question in her sweetest girly voice. ”I’m… Fine, thank you… Ma’am—”

”I wish you to have a drink with me”, Umbridge insists and, waving her wand, displays an array of options for him to choose from. ”What will it be — Tea? Coffee? Pumpkin juice—?”

Rolling his eyes impatiently, Harry shrugs and mutters, ”Whatever. Coffee.”

”Lovely”, Umbridge says and conjures up the cup of coffee once more, gripping it delicately by the saucer. 

Harry reaches out to accept it from her, but the woman turns her back to him and begins to fuss with milk and sugar, before finally turning back around to offer him the cup. Harry hesitates. 

”Problem, Mr Potter?”

”Er… Actually, yeah, I take it black—”

”Oh, silly me!” Umbridge says and giggles, then conjures up a fresh cup of coffee for him but this time with her back turned to him. ”Here you go, Mr Potter… Drink up…”

”Er… Thanks…” He mutters, accepting the new cup awkwardly. 

”Now, Mr Potter, I wanted us to have a little chat”, Umbridge says, sweeping round her desk to have a seat in her plushy desk chair. ”As you’re aware, there have been a series of very serious acts of… vandalism… at the school — drink up, before it gets cold—”

Harry looks down at the steaming cup of coffee and frowns, feeling his stomach knot tightly. Finally, he raises the cup to his lips and pretends to take a sip, but keeps his lips firmly closed against the rim of the cup. Umbridge’s smile stretches out happily. 

”Good boy… Now… Tell me, did you put the swamp inside my office?”

”No”, Harry says firmly. 

Umbridge’s smile twitches and her eyes narrow. 

”Drink up, won’t you…”

Harry pretends to take another sip of coffee. 

”You’re sure you had nothing to do with the swamp in my office?”

”No, nothing.”

”And you don’t know anything about it?”

”No—”

”Mr Potter”, Umbridge snaps. ”Let’s not play games! I know you know who is behind these vicious attacks!”

”I don’t—”

BOOM!

A sudden explosion sounds out nearby, shaking the floor of classroom and causing Harry to spill coffee all over his lap. Swearing quietly, he puts the cup down on the desk and tries to wipe the spillage off fruitlessly for a second, when another crash can be heard, followed by what sounds like a high-pitched wail. 

”What was—?” Umbridge, who’s slid sideways off her chair and now grips the edge of the desk to right herself again, stares at the closed door of the classroom in terror. ”What is going on now?”

A series of smattering explosions can now be heard just outside the door. Harry watches with a mixture of fear and exhiliration as Umbridge advances on it in trepidation, her wand gripped tightly. 

She wrenches the door open and immediately throws herself to the ground with a terrified gasp, covering her head fearfully as a set of fireworks come barrelling towards her. Harry throws himself to the floor as well, cowering under the desk as another firework comes zooming inside the classroom, happily spelling out the words EAT DUNG UMBITCH in the air above the teacher’s desk. 

Laughing incredulously, Harry grabs his things and using her bookbag as a shield, he makes a run for it… Narrowingly avoiding another rude message as he leaps through the doorway and skids off down the corridor, he pelts past an exploded crate of enchanted fireworks and continues through the resulting pandemonium, shouting gleefully over his shoulder, ”Don’t know anything about this either!”

Stunning the fireworks apparently has no effect other than to make them explode and trying to Vanish them apparently makes them multiply by ten, so by late afternoon massive fire-breathing dragons made up of golden and green sparks, glittering pink Catherine wheels and temperamental firecrackers have spread from the corridor outside the Defence classroom all throughout the castle. 

Funnily enough, Umbridge seems to be the only teacher really trying to get rid of them, the other professors showing little to no inclination to lend a hand, especially since the fireworks seem to harbour a vendetta towards Umbridge in particular. 

Although Professor Snape does get rid of the single Catherine wheel that finds its way down to the dungeons easily enough. Luckily, Umbridge and Filch were nowhere near the dungeons at the time, so they weren’t tipped off how to do it. 

”That’s the last stage of the revenge”, Draco informs them regretfully later in the Common Room from his hiding place behind a mountain of textbooks. ”Any other mayhem caused by the twins from now on will be on their own time…”

”I just saw them on my way here”, Blaise says. ”They looked like they’re having the time of their life, so I don’t think they’re going to let up anytime soon…”

”I expect it’s good advertising for them as well, isn’t it?” Pansy comments, studying her immaculate nails idly.

”Oh yeah… Well, it would be, if they could take credit for any of it…”

”Oh come on”, Pansy snorts. ”The only person in this castle who is oblivious to their involvement in all of this is Umbridge! … And that’s only because she’s got her head shoved up so far in Fudge’s a—”

”Thank you, Pans, for that lovely image”, Draco’s voice pipes up from behind the textbook mountain. 

Harry, Seamus, Theo and the two girls burst out in snickers and Blaise shakes his head at all of them, smirking. 

”— so she can’t see anything else”, Pansy finishes with a proud grin. 

”Yes, very clever”, they hear Draco mutter. ”Not to mention crude. I think you’re spending too much time with Seamus.”

”Oi…” the Irish boy objects half-heartedly. 

Harry goes to bed with a massive grin on his face, feeling thoroughly redeemed. Part of him almost wishes he could take credit for the mayhem that Umbridge has had to put up with — but this is better, he tells himself. She suspects he’s behind it all, but has no way of pinning it on him… It’s perfect. 

He stretches out languidly on the bed and starts going through his relaxation exercises lazily, even as he’s drifting off to sleep —

He blinks, spinning around… He’s standing in the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. I shouldn’t be here, he thinks numbly but even as he thinks this, he finds himself walking towards the door at the end of the corridor as if pulled to it by some magical force… Let it open… Let it open…

It does. 

Heart jolting in his chest, Harry steps through into the circular room with all the doors and blue-flamed candles and crossing it with determination, he opens the door directly opposite him. It, too, swings open easily at his touch and he eagerly steps through.

This is further than I’ve ever got before, he thinks excitedly as he looks around the long, rectangular room on the other side. But the force pulling on him doesn’t allow him to stop and investigate… I need to keep going… 

A sense of urgency flares up inside of him, like he’s running out of time and his heart begin to pound… I need to keep going… I need — There’s another door at the far end of the room and Harry runs over to it, pushing it open and bursting through to the other side. 

This room is dimly lit, but Harry can still make out the high, vaulted ceiling and the rows upon rows of high shelves, each of them crammed full of dusty glass spheres… Harry’s heart is now beating so hard, he fears it might just burst out of his ribcage… This is it, he thinks in exhiliration. This is where it is!

Although he’s never been here before and has no idea of what these glass spheres are, Harry knows where he’s going and with his scar searing and heart hammering, he begins to run again… So close… 

Suddenly a pair of invisible hands grip him by the shoulders and give him a jostle — He startles awake, feeling disorientated, but also extremely angry — I was so close!

”Hey, sleepy head…” he hears Draco say teasingly. 

Harry squints his eyes open in a glare and opens his mouth to snap at the other boy to go away and let him sleep, but before the words are out of his mouth it’s been covered by the other boy’s and he’s being thoroughly kissed. Harry lets out a muffled groan and immediately melts into it… And by the time Draco breaks the kiss and leans away again, he doesn’t even remember what he was supposed to be angry about. 

”Come on, I’m hungry”, the blonde says chirpily. 

”Tease…” Harry croaks half-heartedly, but sits up with a stretch and starts changing into his uniform without further protests. 

Once he’s rubbed the sleep from his eyes and put his glasses on, Harry takes a proper look at his boyfriend for the first time and frowns. The blonde has got a sightly manic gleam in his eyes, that are framed in even darker shadows than the night before. 

”Did you ever go to bed?” He asks him warily. 

”Of course I did”, Draco says dismissively and bounces slightly on the balls of his feet, wringing his hands anxiously as he watches Harry step into his boots. ”Come on, I’m starving!”

”All right, calm down…” Harry mumbles. 

It’s not until they reach the nearly deserted Great Hall that it occurs to Harry that it might be a lot earlier than he’d first thought and wheeling around to check the big clock above the doors, he goggles at the early hour and nearly trips over his own feet from the pure shock of it. 

”Five…” He rasps. ”Draco — it’s — it’s five o’clock!” 

”I know, we don’t have a lot of time!” 

”Wha…” 

Harry wheels back around to stare at the other boy incredulously, except he isn’t there to stare at anymore and Harry stumbles slightly. Draco has already taken a seat at the end of the Slytherin table and filled a bowl with some fruit and berries. He’s just reaching for the coffee caraffe when Harry joins him and spatters his own hand with drops of piping hot coffee when pouring himself a cup, his hands are shaking so badly. Harry blinks at them and swallows his rude objections. 

”Draco, are you okay?” He asks instead. 

”Fine! Just need some sustenance, but then we’ll head to the library — don’t worry — I’ve got it all under control”, the blonde says in a rush, pausing only to take a quick sip of coffee. ”I think we’ll be able to do two hours before Charms, maybe two and a half if we eat quickly, and then we’ll squeeze in another forty minutes after lunch and—”

”Are you sure you’ve slept?”

”I told you—!”

”How many hours?” Harry demands. 

”Three and a quarter! Are you going to eat anything? Because we really ought to get going in about…” he glances over at the clock on the wall and takes a large gulp of coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue. ”Five minutes, so if you want to eat—”

”Draco, this is ridiculously. I know OWLs are coming up, but—”

”Don’t!” Draco hollers in a sudden burst of panic. ”You’re stressing me out! Stop putting all this pressure on me!”

”What — I —”

The blonde fists his hair in frustration for two seconds and Harry is just about to put a comforting hand on his shoulder when he suddenly jumps to his feet, accidentally knocking over his bowl and scattering blueberries all over the floor. 

”I AM DOING MY BEST, ALL RIGHT?”

Harry flinches back, casting a nervous look about him to see how much of a scene they’re causing, but they’re the only students in the Great Hall except for Loony Lovegood and she merely glances up at them curiously, before returning her attention to her Arithmancy textbook calmly. 

”Draco…” He murmurs patiently. ”Sit down and finish you breakfast—”

”I don’t have time!” Draco snaps, snatching his bookbag from the table and stomping out of the Great Hall again. 

Harry sighs heavily and reaches for the coffee caraffe. 

”Are you coming?” Draco screams from just outside the doors of the Great Hall. 

”I’ll meet you there!” Harry hollers back. 

Can’t cope with Crazy Revision Draco before coffee, he thinks bitterly and fills his cup to the brim. 

Draco isn’t the only fifth year acting strangely now that they’re nearing the end of May and June is tapping them impatiently on the shoulder, reminding them of their imminent examinations. 

Harry has seen Granger walking around muttering to herself a lot lately, stooped low under the weight of her bookbag that is now twice the size than usual and bursting at the seams. 

Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchly appear to have some ongoing competition going to see who can squeeze in the most study hours into one day, a competition they more and more frequently drag other (unwilling) participants into by interrogating them about their revision schedules. 

Several students, like Draco, seem to rush through their meals so they can spend the time revising, whereas most of the Ravenclaws seem to be forgoing sustenance altogether, judging by their absence at the Ravenclaw table, and instead spending all their time between lessons in the library, much to Madam Pince’s aggravation.  

Harry himself is the perfect mix of worry and calm, in that he’s really worried that he’s going to perform poorly in his exams, but also feels like it’s out of his hands at this point so there’s really no point in actively worrying about it, since that will probably just make him perform even worse, and that thought, oddly enough, has left him feeling pleasantly calm about the whole thing. 

Even when Professor Snape hands out their examination timetables and details of the procedure for OWLs at the end of Potions, something that has Draco fisting his hair again and breathing erratically until Professor Snape impatiently shoves a Calming Draught in his face, Harry feels oddly calm. 

Professor Snape goes over the timetable with them and then spends five minutes outlining all the measures that have been taken to prevent students from cheating and tells them if any student of Slytherin is caught trying to cheat despite this, they will have him to contend with. 

The examiners arrive at the castle on Sunday evening, all looking very ancient and stern and for the first time in weeks, Harry’s stomach begins to squirm with nerves again. 

The first exam is the Charms one and all the fifth years stay up in the Common Room revising well into the early hours of the morning and by the end of it, Harry is sure he doesn’t know the first thing about Charms and won’t be able to answer a single question. 

As soon as breakfast is over on Monday morning and the students below and above fifth year head for their regular lessons, the fifth years wait nervously in the Entrance Hall and when they’re allowed back into the Great Hall again, it’s been transformed slightly. Instead of the four house tables, sixty or so tables for one have been set up facing the staff-table and a small desk upon which stood a giant hour-glass. 

Griselda Marschbanks, the Head of the Wizarding Examinations Authority, stands next to the desk and waits for them all to find a seat, then turns the hour-glass and tells them to begin. 

With his heart lodged in his throat, Harry turns his paper over and reads the first question. 

1. a) Give the incantation and b) describe the wand movement required to make objects fly.

Harry lets out the breath he’s unwittingly held in a soft huff and grins. I know this, he thinks gleefully and begins to write. 

It turns out that he knows most of the questions — Not all, but a lot of them — Enough, he thinks, to pass anyway. That is, if the practical goes as well as the theory portion, he reminds himself. 

A memory of sitting next to Mad-Eye Moody (or at least he thought it was Moody at the time) on a cold bench, discussing the first task in the Triwizard Tournament, flutters to the front of his mind. 

”From what I hear, Charms isn’t your strong suit”

Lunch is a tense and quiet affair. Harry shoots Draco a few surreptitious looks to make sure he eats at least something, but he doesn’t dare speak to him in case he has another outburst. 

Once everyone has finished eating, Professor Flitwick directs the fifth years to the small chamber beside the Great Hall where they’re instructed to wait for their names to be called in groups of four. Daphne shoots the Charms teacher a sour look when he says they’re going to be called in alphabetical order and Harry doesn’t understand why at first. Then he remembers — Daphne’s last name is Greengrass. 

He follows her glare to the corner of the chamber where Granger is practising wand movements erratically and shakes his head in amusement when she accidentally pokes Ron in the eye. 

”Mattingly, Erin — Macmillan, Ernest — McLaid, Siobhan — Malfoy, Draco”, Professor Flitwick’s squeaky voice filters in through the small crowd. 

Draco startles and stares wide-eyed between the door and Harry and the others, looking very much like a Mooncalf caught in the light sphere of a Lumos Spell and Harry smiles gently at him. 

”Good luck…”

The blonde’s face twitches slightly, but then he nods and hurries across the chamber and disappears through the door. 

When Harry’s name is called fifteen minutes later along with Pansy’s and the Patil twins’s and he enters the Great Hall, he spots the blonde at a table at the far end levitating a wine glass in front of Professor Marchbanks. 

”Professor Tofty is free, Potter”, Flitwick squeaks behind him.

Harry glances back at him to see him pointing to the smallest and most ancient of the examiners, a balding old man with a very hunched-over back. Harry walks over to him and smiles politely. 

”Potter, is it?” the man says, glancing down at his notes and then peering up at Harry again over the rim of his pince-nez spectacles. ”The famous one?”

”Er… Yeah, I suppose…” Harry says awkwardly. 

”Jolly good… Now, if I could ask you to take this egg cup and make it do some cartwheels for me.”

Harry feels rather good about himself when he leaves the examination, having done fairly well all things considered even though he got a couple of incantations mixed up. The relief is very short-lived however, because as soon as he gets back to the Common Room it’s time to start revising for the Transfigurations exam. And the rest of week continues in much the same fashion for them, with extremes of emotions relieving each other and not a moment to really relax before they’re on to the next thing to stress about. 

Their Defence Against the Dark Arts examination is scheduled for Thursday and seeing Professor Umbridge watching them all from doorway makes Harry all the more adament to ace it and although he struggles with some of the questions in the theoretical, he has no problem performing any of the counter-jinxes or defensive spells that Professor Tofty (who is examining him again) asks him to and sensing Umbridge’s disapproving presence in his peripheral only makes the moment sweeter. 

”Oh, bravo!” Professor Tofty exclaims happily when Harry demonstrates a perfect Boggart Banishing Spell. ”Very good indeed, young man! Very impressive!”

”Thanks…” Harry says and shooting Umbridge a sidelong glance, he adds cheekily. ”Want to see my Patronus as well?”

”I say…” Professor Tofty says, blinking in wonder at him. ”You know how to perform a Patronus spell? At your age?”

”Yeah, my daddy taught me”, Harry says proudly. 

”Oh, all right, then… For a bonus point…” the little old man says, squinting happily. 

Grinning, Harry raises his wand again. He looks straight at Umbridge and imagines her being sacked. 

”Expecto Patronum!”

A silvery ferret shoots out of the tip of his wand and immediately begins to skip and scurry around his legs playfully, bumping its head affectionately against his ankles just like Selina always does when he goes home or is about to give her food, and Professor Tofty lets out a shocked laugh and claps his hands. 

”I say! A corporeal one too!” He exclaims. ”Very impressive indeed, young man! Well, that’s it, you may go!”

As soon as he’s out of there, Harry writes a long letter to his dads telling them all about it.

*

The second week is kick-started with the Potions examination, which is the one Harry has been dreaded the most. The theoretical in the morning is extremely hard, but Harry thinks he’s done fairly well. There wasn’t a single question which answer he felt completely oblivious to, even if there was a handfull he was uncertain of the details and a few that he second-guessed himself on. 

In the afternoon, they’re all set up with a cauldron each and a variety of ingredients to choose from. Harry is keenly aware of Professor Snape’s presence by the doors behind him, even though he can’t actually see him, and imagines he can feel the man’s hawk eyes watching his every move, especially when his trembling fingers slip with the knife over his daisy root making one side of an otherwise perfect cube a little jagged. 

Huffing out a frustrated sigh, Harry closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath to calm himself. 

At the end of the examination he corks his sample flask and eyes the contents anxiously. It’s definitely the right shade green, he thinks, but he could have sworn that it looked brighter when he brewed it in class. He looks over his shoulder, hoping to gauge Professor Snape’s reaction, but before he can catch the man’s eye, Professor Marchbanks tells them to put the sample flasks on the desk at the front. 

Back in the Common Room for the evening, Harry slumps into a chair next to his friends and stares unseeingly at his own knees. He feels completely deflated, empty even. Now that all the examinations he’d been dreading the most are over, it’s like the exhaustion can finally catch up with him. 

Draco is already pulling his books and notes out to start revising for tomorrow’s Care of Magical Creatures exam, but Harry can’t muster the energy to care about that. 

Before he knows it, it’s Friday afternoon again and Professor Marchbanks is telling them to turn their papers over for the last time. They’ve saved the most boring for last — History of Magic — and Harry stares at the first question for several seconds without really taking in the words, but then gives his head a firm shake and squints at the question again in determination. 

He remembers most of the events mentioned in the first few questions, but is unsure of the names of some of the goblins and gets his dates mixed up. He’s fairly confident in his take on questions four and five, but skips six altogether and only scribbles a vague answer to question seven since all the names of the concerned parties seem to have been Vanished from his brain since this morning. 

By the time he’s reading over question ten — ”Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join” — a subtle but extremely distracting tension headache has begun to strain across his forehead.

”Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards and explain why the warlocks of Liechtenstein refused to join…”

He leans his head into left hand. The palm feels cool and soothing against his feverish skin, but the pain persists and his thoughts feel sluggish inside his head.

”Describe the circumstances that led to the formation of the International Confederation of Wizards…”

The sun is beating down on his back and the back of his head feels scorched. All around him people are scribbling furiously, their quills scratching frantically against their papers. Harry squints down at his own paper. It’s glaringly bright in the sunlight. 

”Describe the circumstances…”

He’s walking along the cool, dark corridor leading to the Department of Mysteries with long, quick strides… The door swings open at his touch, letting him into the circular room lined with doors and blue-flamed candles and his heart leaps… I need to hurry… He knows where he needs to go. 

He marches up to the door straight in front of him and it, too, swings open at his touch, as does the third door at the end of the rectangular room filled with the weird mechanical whirring and clicking noises… I’m so close now…

Once more, he finds himself inside the massive, vaulted room full of shelves stacked with glass spheres. His heart is pounding now… I’m going to get there this time… 

He begins to walk quickly, glancing up at the small number plates on the shelves, until he reaches number ninety-seven and then he turns left and begins to jog soundlessly along the aisle between the two shelves… So close… 

Picking up the pace further, he is flying down the aisle until he reaches the end and there… His stomach lurches at the sight of the dark shape moving sluggishly on the floor, trembling and jerking as it tries to pull itself together and push to its feet… An ice-cold laugh rips out of Harry’s throat… And then a high-pitched, cold voice slithers out of his mouth, ”Take it for me… Lift it down, now… I cannot touch it, but you can…”

The dark shape shifts again and this time a long-fingered, pale hand clutching a wand appears out of the tangle of robes… 

”Crucio!” Harry hisses. 

The shape — the man — on the floor lets out a howl of pain and the wand clatters to the floor and rolls away under the shelf. He continues to shake convulsively, writhing in pain as he screams and Harry laughs again… Finally, he lifts the curse and the man stills, panting. 

”Lord Voldemort is waiting…”

”You’ll have to kill me”, the man whispers.

And then with obvious effort, he presses a shaking arm against the floor and hoists his shoulders a few inches off the ground and lifts his head to meet Harry’s gaze… Harry’s heart drops into his stomach, even as he hears another tinkle of cold laughter leave his mouth… His dad’s face stares up at him from the floor; it’s gaunt and stained with blood and despite the tension of pain around the eyes and mouth, he scowls in defiance. 

No, Harry thinks, but what comes out of his mouth is, ”Yes…”

No—!

”Yes, undoubtedly I shall kill you in the end, Black… But first, you will fetch it for me… You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have time… And nobody will hear you scream… Crucio!”

NOOO—!

Harry startles awake as he hits the floor of the Great Hall and twisting around in confusion, he looks aboout him and realises he must have fallen sideways off his chair. He registers the stares and worried whispers of the students around him, before his scar explodes in pain again and he lets out another yell, slapping his hands to his forehead. 

He’s helped to his feet and escorted out of the Great Hall by a well-meaning Professor Tofty who insists on escorting him to the Hospital Wing. 

”N-no, no… I c-can’t… I mean, I’m not… I don’t need…” Harry stammers, trying to pull away from the surprisingly strong wizard. ”I don’t need the hospital wing — please —”

”There, there, just come with me and everything —”

”No, I’m — I’m fine, Sir”, Harry insists, digging his heels in. 

He wipes the sweat and tears away from his face hurriedly and tries to look as fine as possible, despite the mental picture of his dad being tortured playing in his mind. 

”Really, Sir… I just fell asleep… Had a nightmare…”

”Ah, pressure of examinations”, the little old wizard says and nods with a sympathetic smile, patting him on the arm. ”It happens, young man, it happens… Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps then you’ll be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last question nicely?”

”Yes — I mean, no!” Harry says desperately. ”I’ve done — I’ve done as much as I can, I think.”

”Very well”, Professor Tofty says and pats him on the arm again. ”I shall go and collect your examination paper then, and I suggest you go and have a nice lie down…”

”Yeah, yes, I’ll do that, thank you”, Harry nods frantically. ”Th-thank you!”

Finally, the old wizard let go of him and returns to the Great Hall. The second he is out of sight, Harry bolts… He skids across the floor towards the spiral staircase to the dungeons and takes the stairs two at a time, then jumps off and hits the dungeon floor running. 

He crashes into the door of the Potions classroom and pulls on the handle desperately, but it’s locked… He doubles back and bangs on the door of Professor Snape’s office with both fists, then holds his breath as he listens for footsteps on the other side… Nothing… 

He’s painfully aware of the seconds ticking by… 

”You think you have felt pain thus far? Think again… We have time… And nobody will hear you scream…”

Panic slowly turning to dread and despair, Harry looks around desperately and tries to think —

”Harry!”

He wheels around. Draco is running towards him from the other end of the corridor and Harry feels a surge of pure love at the sight… 

”Harry…” the blonde gasps as he skids to a stop next to him. ”What… happened…?”

”Voldemort’s got my dad!”

Draco’s eyes widen in alarm.  

”I need to find Snape”, Harry continues, as tears well up in his eyes and tumble down his cheeks. ”But he’s not here and there’s no-one in the Potions classroom! What do we do?”

”Y-You-Know-Who’s got…?”

”Yes! In the Department of Mysteries!” Harry says, fisting his hair, trying to think through the rush of fevered thoughts and residual pain in his head. ”In the place I’ve been dreaming about — it’s a room in the Department of Mysteries, it’s — it’s — full of sh-shelves w-with these l-little — I dunno — glass balls of some sort — they’re at the end of row ninety-seven and — and — he’s going to kill him!”

”Okay”, Draco says loudly and grabs Harry firmly by the arms. ”It’s going to be okay! We’ll go to Dumbledore!” 

They run back up from the dungeons, all the way to the massive golden Griffin standing guard outside the Headmaster’s office and shout names of sweets at it until finally it springs to life and moves aside, reveaing the revolving staircase… Harry grabs Draco’s hand again and hops on, dragging the blonde with him. 

They hop off the staircase at the top and Harry throws himself at the door to the office and bangs on it, but nothing happens… He tries the door handle, but the door is locked… Draco tries the Alohomora spell, but it doesn’t work… That’s when Harry remembers the knife Sirius gave him for Christmas and he digs it out of his book bag with shaking hands and kneels down in front of the door. 

”Why do you have a knife in your bag?” Draco asks curiously. 

Before Harry has a chance to answer, the lock clicks and the door swings open. Harry’s heart stutters in his chest and he jumps to his feet and tumbles into the office, Draco right behind him. 

The office is empty and eerily quiet except for the muted buzz of a hundred sleeping portraits hanging all around the walls. Harry feels like screaming and fists his hair again, curling in on himself. Draco’s tentative hand touches his arm, but Harry throws it off when he jerks up.

”Where is he?” he hollers.

”Calm down”, Draco says, but there’s a shrill quality to his voice and Harry knows he’s started to panic himself. 

”FUCK—!” Harry bellows and curls up in a ball, clutching his head, his pounding heart a visceral reminder of time ticking away, running out… 

”Calm down!” Draco says again, even shriller. 

”I say…” one of the portraits mutter. ”Such rude language…”

”Shut up!” Draco hisses at the old wizard in the portrait, whose name plaque reads Phineas Nigellus Black, Harry sees when he looks up to also glare at him. ”Unless you can tell us where the Headmaster is, mind your own business!” Draco adds in a snarl, rounding on the portrait. 

”Oh-ho!” the portraits says. ”Such impertinence!”

”Please—!” Harry gasps, straightening up again and blinking the tears from his eyes. ”We really need to see the Headmaster, it’s a matter of life and death! Please can you tell us where he is?”

”Absolutely not—!”

”PLEASE!”

”—because I don’t know”, the portrait finishes snidely. ”Unless it’s official Hogwarts business, the Headmaster doesn’t see fit to inform us of his goings-on…”

”But you know”, Harry insists. ”I know you know! You eavesdrop all the time, all of you, I’ve seen you—!”

The portrait of Amando Dippet’s snores seem to stick in his throat and he blinks, clearly offended, but catches himself and prompty goes back to pretending to sleep. 

Phineas Nigellus Black continues to peer out at Harry however, his dark beady eyes glittering with interest. 

”You’re the Potter boy…” he says. ”You’re the one with the visions…”

”Yes!” Harry says. ”And I’ve — I’ve just had another one — please, can you tell me how to get in touch with Dumbledore?”

”I’m not allowed to—”

Harry lets out another frustrated yell and spins around, ready to punch the nearest thing until his eyes land on Draco and he reels the impulse back in. Draco is glaring daggers at the portrait, his wand hand twitching at his side. Harry understands his urge to hex the painting, but it wouldn’t do any good — plus they’re running out of time!

”Fuck it”, he says and grabs Draco’s arm and runs back out of the office. ”We’ll just have to go there ourselves!”

”What?” Draco says blankly, stumbling after him onto the staircase. ”What do you—?”

”How are we going to get inside?”

”I-Inside—?”

”Yes! Inside the Department of Mysteries!” Harry exclaims impatiently. 

”B-But Harry—”

They reach the end of the staircase and Harry jumps off, pulling Draco along with him and the blonde stumbles behind him, grabbing the back of his robes to steady himself. 

”Harry, stop!” the blonde demands and wrenches his arm out of Harry’s grasp. ”Stop for a second—!”

”I don’t have a second!” Harry cries. ”Don’t you get it? Voldemort’s got my dad! He’s torturing him right now! And he said he’ll end by killing him!”

”I-I understand that, Harry! But we need to stop and think! We can’t just rush into this, okay—?”

”There isn’t time”, Harry says loudly and slowly. ”We can discuss strategies on the way to London, but we need to get moving right now!”

”How?” Draco demands. ”How are we going to get to London with Umbridge in charge of all the fires? You want to fly there? That will take us all night—!”

Fresh tears tumble down Harry’s cheeks as the hopelessness of the situation weighs him down. A flash of sympathy flickers by in Draco’s face and he reaches out for him, but Harry bats his hand away. He doesn’t need comfort, he needs help! 

But Draco is right. It will take them all night to fly to London on their broomsticks and even if Harry had got the hang of Apparition yet, there’s no Apparating inside the grounds of Hogwarts. The easiest way would be by floo, but Umbridge has got all the fires under supervision… A surge of rage and pure loathing like he’s never felt before rises inside of Harry… Never before has he felt such a strong desire to hurt —

He tamps the feelings down and forces himself to focus. 

Then it strikes him.

”Oh Merlin…” he mumbles. ”There is a way…”

”What?” Draco frowns. ”What do you mean—?”

”The fireplace in Umbridge’s office!”

Before Draco has a chance to say anything, Harry is tearing away along the corridor and hurtling himself down a staircase and jumps the last four steps just before the stairs begin to change. 

”Harry!” Draco calls out, stuck on the moving stairs as they switch from the landing where Harry is standing to one further up. 

”It’s okay!” Harry calls back. ”That’s the Charms corridor! It’s just one floor up, so just run to the end and go through that tapestry and take the stairs on the other side! I’ll meet you there!”

The blonde nods quickly, lips pinched together and eyes wild with fear, but Harry is proud to see him leaping off the stairs and running out of sight without hesitation. Harry turns around and starts running as well, skidding along the floor as he rounds the corner at the end of the corridor, quickly running past the door of the Defence classroom, hyper-aware that Umbridge might be inside. 

Luckily, Harry knows of the alternate entrance to the Defence teacher’s office, since his daddy taught the subject two years ago, which means he and Draco will be able to sneak inside without going through the classroom and hopefully, they’ll be able to use the fireplace inside Umbridge office before she hears anything.

Harry slips out of sight at the end of the corridor and waits for Draco who comes hurtling down the marble steps a few moments later. The blonde is panting, but Harry doesn’t let him catch his breath before he grabs his hand and continues to run to the other end of the corridor where a small staircase leads to the backdoor of Umbridge’s office. 

”Harry — wait —” Draco gasps as Harry lets go of his hand again and starts picking the lock with the knife. 

”What?” Harry snaps impatiently. 

”Swamp”, Draco wheezes. 

But it’s too late. The lock clicks open and the door flies towards them, letting out a stream of murky swamp water. Harry swears and jumps to his feet, but grabs Draco’s hand again and begins to wade through the doorway and across the office swamp, the water surface lapping against his belly.

”It won’t — work — the water —” Draco pants as Harry pulls him along. 

”It will”, Harry says with a confidence he doesn’t actually feel and wades over to the fireplace. 

The water surface is halfway to the mantelpiece and most of the grate is submerged in water. Harry spots a small pink pot of floo powder on the mantle piece and grabs it. There’s enough floo powder inside to try flooing from the fireplace as it is, so Harry grabs a fistful and throws it inside — the powder hit the bricks at the the back of the fireplace and sparkles moodily, before dropping into the water with an anticlimatic hiss. 

”What was that for?” Draco exclaims in exasperation. ”We need fire — or embers — or it won’t work!”

Harry ignores him. He’s already looking around for a way to block the water from the grate and anything flammable that might have survived the swamp. 

”Harry, are you listening to me?”

Harry is not. He wades over to where he knows Umbridge’s desk is standing, although the whole thing is now submerged in water and, he discovers, home to a small alligator. 

”Merlin…” Draco huffs and then mutters something else under his breath. 

Harry whirls around as swiftly as the water will allow him, ready to snap at him that he’s really not being helpful — only to discover that that is exactly what he is, because Draco has managed to light a floo fire inside the fireplace! 

Harry blinks. 

Wading over for a closer look, he discovers a giant air bubble pushing the water away and at the bottom of it, now burning bright green, is Draco’s school robes. He’s cast a Bubble-Head Charm on his robes and set them on fire. 

”You…” Harry lets out a wet half-chuckle, overcome with emotion. ”You did it!”

”Yeah…” Draco mutters. ”But before we — please, just—” he grabs a hold of Harry’s robes when he goes to step into the bubble and fixes him with a pleading look. ”Please, Harry — try floo calling your house!”

”What? We don’t have time—!”

”Please, Harry!” Draco implores him. ”What if Voldemort meant for you to see that, just so you’d go charging into the Department of Mysteries? What if it’s a trap? Please, just — before we go — just make sure your dad’s not home?”

”Fine…” Harry mutters and lowers his leg again, bending over to stick his face into the flames instead. ”Number Two Creirwy’s Hollow!”

Immediately, Harry’s head begin to spin and he screws his eyes up tightly against the ash whirling into his face and focuses on the feeling of Draco’s fingers curled into his arms, steadying him, and the swamp water cooling his legs, to ground himself as his head continues to spin… 

Suddenly it stops and he opens his eyes again, staring into the familiar lounge of his home… Empty, he thinks numbly… He swallows thickly, as the reality of the situation slams into him once more, then opens his mouth to call out for his dads —

Suddenly something heavy slams into his back and he tumbles through the fire and rolls out of the fireplace and onto the wooden floor of the lounge. 

”What —?”

”Umbridge!” Draco gasps and Harry flips over to his back and stares at the blonde lying next to him on the floor. 

”What?” he says again, sitting up. 

”Umbridge!” Draco says again, struggling to his feet and Harry can see that his legs are shaking. ”She came bursting into the office! She must have seen the water in the corridor —”

Harry struggles to his feet as well and looks around in growing terror. If his dads were home, if they were both fine, then they would have heard them by now… They would be calling out for me, they would be running in here… But the house is eerily quiet still. 

”They’re not here…” he whispers. 

Draco simply nods. 

”What… What do we do now…?” Harry says, looking around, feeling suddenly lost. 

”We go to the Ministry”, Draco says, his eyes hard with resolve as he turn to fix Harry with a steady look. ”Like you said.”

”Y-Yeah, but… How…?”

”What do you mean? We floo there”, Draco says and nods towards the fireplace. ”We’re not at Hogwarts anymore, Umbridge can’t get to us… Let’s go…”

*

Harry stumbles out of the fireplace before he’s stopped spinning and nearly trips over his feet, but Draco grabs a hold of his robes and steadies him. Spinning around, Harry sweeps his eyes over the Atrium and feels his heart pound steadily inside his chest… Okay, he thinks. 

The Atrium seems a lot eerier now compared to the last time Harry was here. The only sound that can be heard is the steady rush of water from the massive fountain and his and Draco’s heavy breathing. 

Okay… Okay, we’re here… Okay…

”Harry”, Draco gives him a little shove, jostling him out of his panicked mantra. ”Where do we go?”

”Right”, Harry says grimly, spinning around again and locating the golden gates to the lifts. ”This way!”

They run across the Atrium, their footsteps echoing grotesquely around them. Harry thunders to a stop in front of the very first lift and presses the Down button frantically. 

Within seconds, the lift comes into view with a clatter and stops with a whiny squeak. The wrought-golden grilles slide apart with a loud clank and they hop inside hurriedly. Harry scans the numbers on the buttons quickly, thinking back to theat day in the summer when he was here with his dad and pressing the button with the nine on it. With a stomach-jolting jostle, the lift begins to descend rapidly into the darkness below them. Harry feels Draco inch closer to him, his hand clambering to grip his at his side and Harry gives it a reassuring squeeze. 

”Level nine; Department of Mysteries”, a cool female voice says and the lift rattles to a stop. 

Through the golden grilles, Harry can see the black-tiled wall with the burning torch on it, that are more familiar to him than the back of his scarred hand by now, and his heart drops into his stomach. 

As soon as the grilles part, he squeezes Draco’s hand a little tighter and begins to run. They stop in front of the black door at the end of the corridor and, holding his breath, Harry reaches out and gives it a firm push. Just like in his dreams of late, the swings open for him. 

”Okay…” He says breathlessly. ”Okay, this is it…”

”Harry…” Draco whispers, squeezing his hand hard enough to break bones. ”What… What do we do when—?”

”I don’t know yet”, Harry says. ”Just have your wand ready. Come on…”

They step through the door and into the circular room from Harry’s dream, its walls black, as are all the doors lining them, as is the floor and ceiling, the only thing making the doors visible at all, the dim blue light from a dozen candles mounted between them. Harry swallows thickly. He knows where to go. 

”Shut the door”, he mumbles. 

In the next moment, as door clicks shut behind them and the torch light from the corridor is shut out, the blue-flamed candles begin to move sideways with a rumbling noise as the walls begin to revolve around them.

”What—” Draco gasps and clutches Harry’s arm fearfully. 

The walls spin faster and faster until the candles turn into one long, blue streak around them. Then suddenly, the rumbling noise dies down and everything stills again. Harry blinks furiously, trying to get rid of the blue streak of light burnt into his eyes. 

”What — What the Hell —” Draco whispers. 

Harry takes half a step forward and then spins around. With a horrifying jolt, he realises he now has no idea of which door they just came in through… Nor which door they need to go through to get to his dad, he realises, feeling his blood run cold… 

”Harry?” Draco says in a small, scared voice. 

”It’s fine”, Harry says bracingly. ”I think… I think it’s this one…”

He strides over to the door directly opposite them, figuring just because the wall didn’t start spinning in his dream doesn’t mean this still isn’t the door they need to go through.

But as soon as the door swings open and Harry blinks in the sudden light, he knows it’s the wrong room. In his dream, the rectangular room was dimly lit and the walls were speckled with small lights that gave it a sparkling feel and it was also filled with mechanical whirring noises, but this room is just as eeriely quiet as the circular room and empty save for a big glass tank in the middle. Harry registers the green liquid inside it briefly, and the weird squishy shapes floating around in it, before stepping back into the circular room. 

As soon as the door slams shut, the circular room begins to swirl around them once more and Harry squeezes his eyes shut in frustration until the rumbling noise dies down. 

Glaring at the door in front of him, Harry reaches out to push it open. 

”What are you doing?” Draco says shrilly. ”We just checked that one!”

”Did we?” Harry counters. 

The blonde blinks and casts an uncertain look around him. 

”Well, wait”, he says. ”This could take us hours. We need to find a way of distinguising the doors we’ve already tried from the rest…”

”How?”

Draco seems to deliberate for a second, then nods in determination, ”I know… All right, open the door…”

It opens up to a room that is a lot larger than the last one and the stone floor is sunken in the middle, creating a twenty-feet deep stone pit. The doorway in which Harry and Draco are standing is located at the very top tier of what seems to be stone benches running around the room and descending steeply into the pit, giving it the appearance of an old theatre. At the very bottom of the pit, Harry notices with confusion, stands an empty stone archway, so ancient it’s crumbling. Hanging from the top of the archway is a tattered old, black veil that, despite the stillness of the chilly air in the room, is swaying slightly as though pushed by a breeze. 

”Is this it?” Draco whispers next to him. 

Harry shakes his head numbly. 

He can’t describe it, but staring at the veil in the archway he’s gripped by the oddest sensation… Ice-cold fear begins to course through his body, yet at the same time he feels compelled to walk down to it… 

”All right, then”, Draco mumbles. ”Flagrante!”

Harry blinks and tears his eyes away from the archway and looks around to see a firey ’X’ now marking the outside of the door. 

”Good thinking”, he says. 

”Well, come on, then…”

”Yeah —” Harry is startled to discover that he’s now standing on the step below the doorway but has no memory of actually stepping down. ”Yeah, let’s go…”

They step back from the door and shut their eyes, waiting for the spinning to stop and when they open them again, the door with the fiery ’X’ is several paces to their left. Harry swallows and pushes at the door in front of him again, but this time it doesn’t budge. 

”Alohomora!” Draco says impatiently, but it’s still locked. ”Try your knife —”

”No…” Harry shakes his head. ”This can’t be it. In my dream, all the doors opened.”

”Are you sure?” Draco says sharply and then, at Harry’s nod, he casts another fiery ’X’ on the door. 

Harry walks up to the door next to it and tries that instead. Immediately he recognises the sparkling walls and the whirring and clicking noises. This is it. His stomach lurches with excitement and dread and he steps through the door with purpose. 

Once inside the room, it becomes clear to him what the noise is coming from. Clocks. Every imaginable type of clock of every size, at least a thousand of them, standing on very surface in the room and the source of the many speckles of lights dancing around the room turns out to be a towering crystal bell jar standing at the far end of the room. 

”Is this it?” Draco asks in trepidation. 

”Yeah, this is it… Come on, this way…”

Harry leads Draco over to the bell jar where he knows the next door will be. 

”Oh…” Draco says softly, staring in wonder at something inside the bell jar. 

Harry glances over, impatient to keep moving. Inside the bell jar an egg is rising into the air and as he watches, it cracks open and a small humming-bird flutters out of it and zooms to the very top of the jar but by the time it gets there, it’s wings have become bedraggled and it begins to sink once more… the closer it gets to the bottom, the damper its feathers become and suddenly, the egg shells fly up and encase it once more. Harry gives his head a small shake. They don’t have time for this. 

”Come on…”

He pulls on the blonde’s arm impatiently and drags him over to the door. This is it, he thinks. He can feel his heart pumping valiantly in his chest, sending bursts of adrenaline through his body and his fingers trembling slightly around the wand gripped in his hand. He glances down to make sure that Draco has got his wand ready as well. 

”I’m ready…” The blonde murmurs quietly. 

Harry flits his eyes up to meet the other boy’s. He’s got that grim look of determination on his face again and for a split-second, Harry feels choked up from the sheer volume of emotion that wells up inside of him and can’t get his voice past the sudden lump in his throat, so he simply nods instead. 

The door swings open at his touch and they step into the massive cathedral of a room, it’s high vaulted ceiling arching above their heads and making Harry feel suddenly small, but he pushes the sensation aside. His dad is in trouble, he can’t be small right now —

Squaring his shoulders in determination, Harry stares straight ahead at the numerous rows of shelves spreading out in front of them and behind to walk with purpose… Fifty-three… Fifty-four… 

They need to get to shelf number ninety-seven. 

Harry begins to run and unlike in his dream, his footsteps clatter and echo around him, but it can’t be helped. He feels certain they’re running out of time… Eighty… Eighty-one…

Going against the sense of urgency in his heart, Harry begins to slow down again and listens for any hint of noise… Any rustling of fabric… Any high-pitched, cold voices… Any screams… But there’s nothing. The room is eeriely quiet around them, their panting breaths obscenely loud in comparison and Harry tries not to dwell on what that means — his dad might be gagged, or simply unconscious — or dead, a vicious voice whispers in the back of his mind. 

No, Harry tells it firmly. He can’t be. 

”What number did you say—?” Draco whispers behind him. 

”Ninety-seven”, Harry murmurs grimly, staring up at the small number plaque on the shelf in front of them. 

”Oh…” Draco breathes out. 

”Come on, he’s right down the end…” Harry says thickly and begins to edge along the dark aisle between shelves ninety-seven and ninety-eight cautiously. ”It’s too dark to see properly, but… I know he’s down here…”

With every step he takes, Harry prepares himself for the sight of his dad’s crumpled form emerging from the darkness in front of him, but it never does. 

Suddenly, they’re standing at the very end of the aisle and Harry stares at the floor at his feet where his dad should be… Something’s wrong… 

Feeling sick, Harry swallows convulsively and wheels around… I don’t understand… He’s aware of Draco’s eyes on him, but avoid them resolutely, even as guilt begins to grip his heart tightly… I can’t believe I’ve dragged Draco into this… But I was sure… I was so sure —

He looks around in desperation, scanning the many dusty glass spheres crammed together on the shelves around them, searching for — what? An answer, a distraction?

Then suddenly, the label on one of the spheres catches his eye and he frowns. 

Harry Potter, it says. 

Walking closer to the shelf, Harry squints through the dim candle-light at the small words penned to the faded label. Draco moves to stand next to him, watching his face closely and Harry can just feel him work up the courage to speak, to gently suggest they get back to Hogwarts before they get into even more trouble than they already are, but before he can say anything, Harry raises his hand slowly to stop him. His heart has begun to pound quickly again. 

”This is it…” He whispers. ”This is what he wants…”

The label reads: ”S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. — Dark Lord and (?)Harry Potter”

Maybe he wants to convince himself that they didn’t just risk expulsion to come all this way in vain, just to leave again empty-handed, but whatever the reason, feeling suddenly reckless, Harry reaches out and plucks the glass sphere from the shelf. 

He has just a moment to marvel at how warm it feels in his hand, before a cool voice drifts out of the shadows towards him… 

”Very good, Potter… Now hand it over to me…”

Wheeling around, Harry stares in horror at the gleaming, silver mask that emerges out of the shadows like a disembodied, floating skull leering at him, before the shape of a man draped in black robes appears around it, the long platinum blonde hair that Harry knows belongs to the voice, hidden for the moment under a black hood. 

”To me, Potter…” Lucius Malfoy says slowly. 

Harry can see the pale blue eyes through the slits in the mask. They stare back at him coldly, calmly. 

A black-gloved hand extends from within the man’s robes and floats in front of Harry. 

”Where’s my dad?” He demands, but even as he says it, he knows he’s just stepped into a trap. 

”Tut, tut… You really ought to learn to tell reality from dreams, Potter… Now, give me the Prophecy before my friends show up and make it really unpleasant for you… Draco!” Lucius gasps suddenly and Harry can see his eyes widen in panic through the slits in his mask. ”What are you doing here?”

”I was going to ask you the same thing, father…” Draco says quietly. 

Harry can feel him tremble against his side and grabs his hand. Lucius gaze flits down immediately and he frowns, throwing Harry a furious look. 

Somewhere in the near distance, Harry can hear the cracks of Apparation and his heart lurches. Acting on pure instinct, he raises his wand and points it towards the glass spheres on the shelf next to him and bellows, ”REDUCTO!” 

He grabs Draco’s hand tightly and dives, just as the shelf begins to topple, splattering the ground with hundreds of glass spheres that shatter against the stone floor in a cacophony of noise. Lucius jumps back with a curse, as small figures rise up from all the broken spheres, speaking over each other, distacting him for the second it takes Harry and Draco to make a run for it, destroying more shelves as they go…

”Potter! DRACO — YOU GET BACK HERE!” Lucius hollers behind them. 

”Keep running!” Harry gasps, pulling Draco along.

”GET THEM! — NO CURSES! — DRACO IS WITH HIM AND HE’S GOT THE PROPHECY!” Lucius shouts somewhere behind them. 

They can hear running footsteps in pursuit behind them, at least four sets, steadily closing in on them. Harry feels a hex flying past his head and singing the side of his cheek. 

”I SAID NO CURSES!” Lucius shrieks furiously. ”JUST GET THEM!”

They reach the door and Harry wrenches it open, diving inside and then immediately staggering back as he sees the door in front of them open and another Death Eater bursting through. 

”Stupify!” Harry bellows, but the Death Eater dives out of the way. 

He hears the door behind them swing open again and throws himself sideways, scrambling under the nearest desk and Draco hurries to crawl in after him. 

”Petrificus Totalus!”

Draco suddenly gores rigid, halfway under the desk. Harry’s heart lurches and lodges in his throat and he scrambles to grab a hold of him, but before he can a black-gloved hand suddenly appears and starts groping at him and manages to grab a hold of his ankle… In the next second, they both disappear with a crack —

”No!” Harry shouts. 

Instinctively lurching forward foolishly, as if to follow them, Harry loses his grip on the glass sphere and it smashes against the floor. A miniature representation of Trelawney rises out of it and begins to speak in a weirdly hollow way (nothing like her normal dreamy tone or even the shrill one she puts on when she has a vision of his untimely death) but Harry barely has a moment to reflect over this, or the actual words she speaks — catching only snippets that he pieces together haphazardly into ’something about the Dark Lord being vanquised and the seventh month dying; and someone marked as someone’s equal’ whatever all that means — because in the next moment, the first Death Eater hurls a hex under the desk. 

”Protego!” Harry shouts, deflecting the jet of fire coming his way. ”Expelliarmus!”

He scrambles out from under the desk, wand still held out at the ready in front of him and adrenaline pumping through him. The Death Eater is fumbling to catch his wand again as it goes flying up into the air and while he’s off guard, Harry hurls another Stunning Spell at him. It hits him straight in the chest just as he manages to get a secure grip on his wand again and he goes flying backwards, smashing into a bookcase and knocking an antique carriage clock down that promptly falls on his head. 

Harry takes one step towards the door to the circular room, but stumbles to a stop as it swings open and two other Death Eaters come barrelling into the room. 

”HE’S HERE! POTTER IS HERE!” one of them screeches. 

”Protego!” Harry shouts as the other one tries to Stun him. 

He staggers back and finds another door and he keeps deflecting the Death Eaters’s jinxes desperately while fumbling for the doorhandle behind his back. 

Then finally, he manages to get the door open and stumbles backwards through the doorway into a room which seems to contain a replica of the solar system, managing to catch sight of Saturn just before he suddenly feels himself falling — except he’s not; he’s suspended in mid-air in the doorway between the two rooms… 

There’s a loud ringing in his ears and his stomach flips over like he’s done a somersault and yet, he remains absolutely still… 

Black dots erupt in the corners of his eyes and slowly seep into his vision like spilling ink, until there is nothing but darkness, and the only thing he can think of, the one thought that reaches him in the vaccuum is… ”Draco”