AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story has a minor AU element: Takes place in the fall of Hogwarts Year Six, but Draco has not received the Dark Mark or his tasks as he canonically did the previous summer. (Guess what's coming.)
I borrow these characters and their world from J.K. Rowling, with love and gratitude in my heart.

Blackness.

Draco held his right palm up, a small flame tickling the edge of his skin as the charm worked to maintain the little light. This was a much more practical technique than the last time he had detention with Potter in the Forbidden Forest back in Year One. Then, he was forced to encumber himself with a heavy, clunky lantern. That thing had been bigger than his head; how could he have properly defended himself and maintained visibility if the need for swift action arose? Of course, Hagrid never thought these things through; and at the time, Draco didn't know the advanced spells that would provide him with alternatives.

Despite the flame charm, which was not only elegant but freed his wand for any additional casting he may require, the entire forest was just as he remembered.

Blackness.

Draco had always been scared of this place. Not that he'd admit it. But still, there were so many rumours…There were whispers that the Dark Lord himself hid here back in their first year. Who knows what else calls this place a refuge?

"Plan to run screaming like a bitch again, Malfoy?"

Draco snarled at him. "As I recall, you were the idiot who didn't know when to keep silent—"

"I couldn't keep silent?!"

"—and instead made this massive fuss about your stupid scar and drew the monster's attention straight at us. Any sane wizard would have run." Draco scanned Harry derisively. "Case in point."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please. You still don't know what really happened that night. It's so sad."

"I know what happened that night-you almost got us killed. Going to try for an encore?"

"Let's just get everything on McGonagall's stupid list and get out of here." Harry never thought he'd piss off his Head of House so severely that she'd actually send him to the Forest again. Not when she knew the truth about his last experience in here… "It'd go faster if we split up and were each looking for only some of the stuff on our own," he suggested.

"Sure," Draco said as smoothly as he could. "Since it's your fault we're in this mess, we'll split it up 20-80, with you taking all the nasty stuff in the top 80." Draco smirked as he saw the fury flashing in Potter's eyes.

"I am not taking eighty percent of our combined detention!"

"Fine. 25-75, my gift to you. But you owe me." He smiled sweetly over his shoulder at Potter.

"What's the matter, Malfoy? Scared to go it alone all night? Want me to hold your hand?"

"Fuck you."

And so they continued on together, searching out the items McGonagall had stabbed across the parchment, splotches of ink sprayed in harassment.

"I can't even read this. Malfoy, move that light closer."

Draco puffed up indignantly. He was not sharing his fire charm with Potter on command. "There's this thing called 'Lumos'. Even the first years have figured it out. Do it yourself."

Potter rolled his eyes. "Why are you so bloody difficult? Lumos."

"Just because I don't babysit you like Granger, doesn't mean I'm difficult." Draco hated how petulant he sounded at that. Distracted, he stumbled over a risen root. Potter snickered at him before turning to squint at the parchment.

"-What does this even mean?! 'Esurio tumulus'?" Harry asked, struggling over the Latin.

"Roughly means 'the hungry earth'. Quicksand."

"Why can't she just write 'quicksand'…" Harry muttered, irritated and embarrassed.

"Because despite her unfortunate House affiliations, she's not a complete plebian," Draco retorted.

Harry glared at him. "You are such a stuck up little shit sometimes."

"Only sometimes?" Draco asked in mock innocence, raising his eyebrows.

Harry ignored him. "How the hell are we supposed to fetch her quicksand?! The minute we remove it, it just becomes sand and water. It's not quicksand anymore after that. Not really. And how are we supposed to even get it out?! It's…well, quicksand. Kinda hard to move in it."

Draco shrugged, a fluid dismissal from one shoulder. "Perhaps if you went and dry-drowned in a patch, she would realize the error of her ways and release me from the burden of figuring it out for the both of us."

"That's only in movies."

"What?"

"You can't actually submerge fully in quicksand."

"Who told you that, muggles?" Draco said jokingly.

Harry glared at him. "Yes," he said defiantly.

"You're actually citing 'muggle expertise' at me, Potter?!" Draco laughed. "Do you really think the things that muggles teach you will be applicable in the Forbidden Forest?" To his delight, his little fire showed Potter's face getting red. "That's right," Draco said, voice slow and overly accommodating, condescension building thick on every word. "You can't submerge in quicksand. And centaurs aren't real. And magic is just pretend."

"She's listed twelve items," Harry ground out. "We find these, we go back, we're done."

Draco impatiently held his hand out. "Give it here."

Potter looked at him curiously and handed the parchment over. Draco read through it carefully; most of it was "team-building exercise" type items. How terribly obvious. He snorted.

"Alright, these are tricky, but with two people they should be doable. I think we should start with the Moss Pilgrims," Draco said. Harry nodded, grateful that Malfoy knew what the hell that was and was finally willing to cooperate.

A shriek, followed by a sickening crunch, bloomed in the air. Draco jumped, eyes wide in fear. Harry's eyes narrowed in focus, trying to figure out where the sound came from.

"Don't you dare go after it," Draco whispered, catching the look in Harry's eye.

"…it sounded like something was hurt—"

"That's how wild creatures eat or maintain dominance. Let them be."

A high pitched, desperate keening; a growling, snuffling sound. "It's definitely hurt," Harry said, moving towards the sound with his wand out.

"No! Stop," Draco grabbed Harry's cloaked arm and spun the boy to face him. "We aren't here for them. We have a job to do. C'mon…" Harry jerked his arm out of Draco's grasp. "You can wait here if you want. I'll be right back."

Draco sighed as he watched Potter dash through the stones and shadow, towards the monsters that gave this forest its name. "If I get hurt, you are finding ALL the items yourself," he muttered as loudly as he dared while pursuing danger. Harry turned around and grinned at him. Draco tried to look pissed off in turn, but couldn't quite manage it when seeing Potter smile at him like that. It simply took his breath away.

He quickly shook off the strange feeling and concentrated on not getting eaten alive.

"Nox," Harry whispered. "Get rid of the fire, it'll see us coming a mile away."

"It'll still hear us, with your not-so-stealthy trampling," Draco muttered but complied. He halted when the light disappeared; he could barely see two feet in front of him. All that existed now were minutely differing shades of black. A small wind blew through the trees, and Draco had to fight the urge to jump at every movement caught in the corners of his eyes.

He couldn't believe how rapidly Harry could navigate the darkness. Draco was moving as fast as he could, but he was constantly on the lookout to avoid rocks, roots, holes, brambles, burning mist, and fairie rings. Not to mention the random pools of quicksand.

Maybe Harry just didn't care. It would be just like him to break his ankle and martyr himself.

Why am I following this pillock again?!

Something snarled at his feet as he ran past, and Draco's wand arm twitched back to the sound on pure reflex. Because if I don't follow, I'm left alone in the Forest. The idea had been one of his worst nightmares since that detention in Year One. He did not fancy the idea of willingly fulfilling it.

He forced himself to hurry even further.

He saw Harry stop just up ahead in front of a small clearing. Draco rushed to his side; the edge of the clearing sloped beneath them like a shallow bowl. Near the opposite edge two figures could be seen in the spikes of moonlight that penetrated the clearing. The first, a skinny girl, maybe fourteen, with skin the colour of limes and long golden welts clawed across her body, her left knee broken, trying to drag herself across the forest floor; and the second, a man with the body of a heavyweight wrestling champion covered in tawny fur with black spots, playing with his prey.

"Impedimenta!" Harry cast; but he barely got the first syllable out before the creature had whipped his head around to glare at them. By the end of the curse, he disappeared. Harry's hex dissolved into the grass where the creature had been seconds before.

"What the—" Harry stopped short.

The creature reappeared instantly about a foot away from its original spot, still guarding its prize. It stood seven feet tall, and had the head of a hyena. It bore its fangs and growled, a viscous gold fluid oozing from around its jaws. The same substance was leaking from the victim's leg and cuts.

Draco was the first to recover. "Stupefy!" But the creature disappeared again.

"How is it doing that!? You can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds!" Harry snarled.

"We can't," Draco grimaced. "But house-elves can. And so can this thing."

It reappeared and disappeared in rapid succession three times in random spots throughout the clearing, taunting them, testing them, gauging their reactions. Draco and Harry shot multiple curses at it, each failing their mark.

Draco was scanning the clearing for where it might next reappear. "That thing's faster than a snitch!"

Harry stole a glance at Draco. "Bet I curse it before you."

Draco looked back at Harry, and saw him smiling with recklessness and joy. He was suddenly grinning back. "You're on."

"Watch out!" the girl—the boy?—the green youth on the ground screamed at them.

The hyena-man reappeared behind them and lunged forward, claws slashing across Draco's back. "No!" Harry screamed. The Slytherin stumbled partially down the slope from the force and pain, voice caught in his throat from shock. He quickly turned to face the onslaught, wand out and shaking from adrenaline and fear. Harry cast the blasting curse, but it dodged neatly aside. It pivoted to face Harry, and both Draco and Harry tried to hex it but it disappeared. It reappeared almost nose-to-nose with Harry and grabbed him by the throat before he could react. It pinned Harry to a tree by his throat and squeezed, laughing in that disturbingly other-worldly way hyenas have. Harry felt his vision swimming when he heard "Incarcerous!" The hand suddenly released him, and the creature was completely bound and fallen to the ground. It disappeared, leaving the conjured ropes limp in the grass.

Harry was gasping for breath. He looked up at Draco and whispered, "Good shot."

Draco prickled at this. Good shot, except for the part where it was useless and now the thing got away. "Fuck you, it should have bound his magic as well as his limbs-"

"No, I meant it," Harry croaked quickly, his voice box bruised. "You were fast."

Draco huffed. Speed and aim meant nothing when you chose the wrong spell. Draco cursed himself for screwing it up.

The hyena-man reappeared laying flat to the ground behind Draco, grabbed the boy's ankle and jerked it back. Draco fell face first, barely breaking his fall with his hands in time. The beast, laughing manically, reared over him with both arms brought up to slash down and maul when Harry cast "Furnunculus!" At the same time, Draco twisted around and cast "Diffindo!"

Both curses hit, and the creature howled as crimson pussing boils billowed over its skin and long welts ripped across its muzzle.

As fast as thought, the hyena-man disappeared and reappeared in mid-leap at a right angle to Harry, its powerful jaws snapping tight on his wand-arm. Draco scrambled to his feet. Harry screamed, and the beast shook its head like a dog until –crack!– his wrist gave way and Harry dropped his wand. It released Harry gleefully, wanting a fresh attack now that its victim was unarmed. "Reducto!" Draco yelled, but the creature had disappeared before Draco even finished the word. Immediately, it reappeared behind the helpless Gryffindor who was frantically scanning the dark forest ground for his wand.

Draco swallowed hard and forced himself to wait. The only times they ever hit this thing was when it was occupied by captured prey. It won't exert a killing strike yet—it enjoyed playing. Draco didn't have to wait long; the monster lunged forward and sunk its teeth into Harry's shoulder. The boy screamed and fell to his knees; the beast stayed locked on him. Careful; if you freeze him, it will hurt Potter more to separate them. If you wound him, he'll disappear again… "Confundus!" Draco cast on the hybrid. It slowly raised its head, licking its bloody lips thoughtfully, eyes glazed and puzzled. "Petrificus Totalus!" The creature froze and toppled to the ground.

Seeing his wand, Harry snatched it and forced himself to his feet, stepping away from the monster. "You saw it, why didn't you warn me?!" Harry growled in pain and anger. He gingerly touched the fingers of his uninjured hand to the shoulder wound. He'd been a fool to believe they could work together, even for a moment.

Draco walked towards him. "Because it would have disappeared. Let me see," he nodded at Harry's shoulder.

"No." Harry said stubbornly, covering it a little more.

"Is it dead?" Came a warbly voice from the clearing. Both students turned to look at the green teenager.

"No," Draco called back. "But it's safely incapacitated. We'll come help you in a moment…" Then in a lower voice to Harry, he said, "C'mon. Let's just heal each other quickly and help her."

"I can do it myself. If you can't, that's your problem," Harry retorted. That fucker used him, used him as bait. Harry hoped his back was shredded and filled him with sheer agony, and that the wounds were already infected and would torment him for months, leaving him hideous and in pain, the stench of infection so great that he lost all his friends and Pansy Parkinson dumped his sorry ass-

Harry fumbled with his wand in his non-dominant hand. He thought about how it was impossible for him to write properly with his left hand, and hoped it wasn't the same for magic. He had a flashback to the consequences of Lockhart's incompetence, but his pride made him brush the memory aside. He awkwardly aimed his wand at his right wrist. "Episkey!" But instead of reforming the bone in alignment, it grew outwards and punctured out of his skin. Harry nearly fainted.

"Reparifors!" Draco cast quickly. The bone reversed back into its original broken condition, the skin smooth once more. Harry cradled his hand against his chest protectively. He was actually queasy from the pain, and it took all his willpower not to mewl from the hurt shooting and throbbing in his arm. He glared hatefully at Malfoy.

Draco sighed in frustration. "Look. If we kept fighting it for much longer, it was going to win. I had to strike while it still wanted to play with us, and not when it wanted us dead." He took a step closer to Harry and held out his hand. "Give me your arm."

Reluctantly, Harry held out his arm. His eyes were full of the contempt and suspicion of a cat who had been sprayed with water. Draco held Harry's arm still, and carefully chose the best point to aim for. "Brackium redintegro," he said clearly. Snap! Snap! Harry gasped as he felt the bones in his arm twang back into alignment and fuse together seamlessly. He was impressed. Draco, pleased with his work, smiled smugly. "Now that you've got your wand arm back, kindly fix my back. And don't use Episkey, it's too general and will likely leave scars." Draco unclasped his cloak and uncharacteristically let it fall to the ground. His back must be a lot more painful than he's letting on if he's not freaking out over his stupid, rich clothes. Harry began feeling immensely guilty for his earlier line of thoughts.

The Slytherin stripped off his shirt, his shoulder movements limited and carefully keeping the fabric from brushing his skin. His face remained neutral despite his actions.

Harry stepped around to examine and saw four gashes, one moderate and the other three deep gouges of exposed meat. "Jesus, Malfoy," Harry muttered. "I can't believe you're not making a bigger fuss about these…"

Draco gave a short laugh. "I only make a fuss if I think it'll get me something. Hurry up."

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that, but felt his anger melting away. "If you don't want me to use Episkey, what should I use?"

"Oh, for the sake of the gods Potter…" Draco swore and turned back to face him. "Okay," he said more patiently, raising his wand to chest level and pointed at the sky. "Straight up, then slowly angle down to your target's beginning," Draco began, demonstrating the wand movement as he explained. Harry copied him. "Draw along the lines as you recite Vulnera Sanentur."

"Okay…Vulnera Sanentur…"

"No. Vulnera Sanentur. You need to half-sing it or it won't work."

Harry smiled, remembering Hermione correcting Ron's levitation spell in Year One and thinking how similar this moment was. He felt horribly self-conscious but sang it.

"Good. You might have to repeat it if it's as bad as it feels," Draco said with a self-deprecating smirk. "Or if you fuck it up," he added. Harry made a face at him. Draco clamped down on his nervousness and doubt, and instead offered his back freely to Harry.

He refused to be in pain when it could be fixed.

Harry moved as instructed, and cast the spell. Harry was fascinated to watch webs of new pale skin criss cross over the claw marks, knitting together the wounds. When the movement ceased but the wounds still looked angry, Harry cast again. This time they sealed completely, the boy's back appearing unmarred. Draco sighed in relief and knelt to pick up his shirt and cloak. He scowled at the dirt and cast a general cleaning charm, a sanitizing charm, a charm to reject any insects that may have crawled on, a charm to alter its smell, a charm to smooth out the wrinkles, and finally reparo to mend the slash marks. Harry snorted as Draco's prissiness returned full blast.

"Mind healing my shoulder now?" Harry drawled.

Draco flushed. He had almost forgotten.

"Well then, undo your shirt."

Harry opened enough buttons to pull the shirt off his shoulder. Draco winced when he saw it. Dark purple bruising clamped around the main muscle, swollen and consuming. There were four puncture wounds—not neat breaks in the skin, but a set of dull, crushing obtrusions.

I will not feel guilty, he chanted silently to himself. I will not. This may be my fault, but worse fates would have been my fault if I'd shied away from the opportunity to stop that creature. I will not feel guilty for doing what had to be done. I won't.

Draco cast several layers of spells to heal him, perhaps spending more time than necessary making sure to banish pain and weariness. Wordlessly, he began to work on the bruising around Potter's neck, bright purple spots where fingers choked him. He hesitated when he came to the mark that most damaged his voicebox. "I…don't feel comfortable trying to heal this," he said bluntly. "I'm not trained, and the voice is much more complicated than a broken bone. Can you wait for McGonagall to fix it?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, surprised at Draco's care. His shoulder felt like new. He wondered briefly if Malfoy had any interest in becoming a Healer. "Thanks," he added.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Let's go," he said, motioning towards the green youth waiting for them.

Harry looked back at the fallen hyena-man. It was stock frozen, like a toy soldier, but its eyes bore furiously, unblinkingly, into Draco. "What about him?"

Draco glanced at the creature and involuntarily shivered. "What about it?" He asked gruffly.

Harry looked up at Draco. "…are we just going to leave him there? He's completely vulnerable. What if something comes after him? It seems….unsporting, somehow."

Draco laughed. "You're actually serious, aren't you?" He murmured incredulously. Damn bleeding-heart Gryffindor. And yet there was something charming about his sense of honour extending to his enemy… "Look. The spell wears off after a few hours. Until then, the stars will decide what protection it deserves."

"That's not good enough. Mobilicorpus," Harry cast. The frozen hybrid jerkily rose in the air. Harry floated it to nestle high in the trees, its body cradled by thick branches.

"There. Out of reach of most predators. And it doesn't matter if he can't climb, because he'll just disappear his way to where ever he wants to be."

"Next you'll be conjuring a blanket in case it gets a chill…" Draco joked.

Harry grinned at him and silently cast a spell to clean the blood off his shirt as he retorted, "Better than you conjuring one. We'd be here half the night with you attempting to recreate some elite design, and casting eight million charms to make it—I don't know, sparkle, or smell good, or whatever it is you do."

Draco shot him a cocky grin. "You think I smell good, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "No, *you* think you smell good. I swear, you're more vain than Lockhart." He started walking down the slope, Draco following alongside him.

"It's not vanity when the world thinks I'm beautiful," Draco said matter of factly. "And really, who am I to fly in the face of public opinion?"

"Are you honestly that conceited?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'realistic'."

"Um, no, it's really not. More like 'deluded'."

They bickered until they approached the youth.

He—no, wait, definitely 'she'—laid still on her belly, her left knee at a horrible angle. "My heroes," she beamed at them despite the pain in her eyes. "I can't believe someone actually came for me…"

"I'm glad we heard you," Harry said solemnly. "Um…what are you? I mean, would human healing spells work for you?"

She—oh, damnit, now he distinctly looked like a boy—he shook his head. "No, they wouldn't. I'm a dryad. The best way to heal me is to get me back to my tree."

"Where's that?" Draco asked. Harry was still stuck on 'dryad'.

"Nearby," he said. "About a wind-rattle east."

Draco nodded. 'East' and 'nearby' would have to suffice; he had no idea how far 'wind-rattle' meant. He glanced at Potter and saw the same furrowed, blank look the boy usually had in Potions.

Harry turned to look at Draco with exaggerated expectancy. Draco saw this, and muttered, "What, you want me to translate?! I don't know."

Harry sighed. "Okay, we'll get you there," Harry reassured the dryad.

Ignoring Harry entirely, Draco asked the boy, "What pronoun do you prefer?"

"Malfoy!" Harry sputtered. "You can't just ask someone-"

"It's alright," the boy defended. He turned his face back to Draco and answered, "I shift, and so can the pronouns. Use whatever you feel reflects me in the moment you're talking about me."

Draco nodded. "Fair enough," he said. "I'm going to levitate you, and we'll need your help with directions," he explained as he extended his wand arm. The dryad smiled, trusting so completely. It irritated Draco a little; any time a stranger raises a weapon to you, is a time for readiness. He cast the charm, and in his free right hand cast the little fire ball again.

"We begin through there," the youth flicked her finger and an assortment of dried leaves rose from the ground and scuttled in the air between two trees, vaguely eastbound.

"I'll go ahead, in case there's trouble," Harry offered.

"If by "trouble" you mean anything that directly affects us, and not searching for things to confront…then okay."

The youth preened at Draco. "You are a true leader, taking command and teaching him all the while…"

Harry's jaw dropped. Draco beamed. "You hear that Potter? I'm your leader!"

"You are not even remotely my leader!" Harry blustered. "You didn't even want to rescue her in the first place!" The dryad looked confused.

"Look what you've done," Draco admonished. "Are you really so petty that you would destroy her confidence in us just to satisfy your ego?"

As Harry looked over at the dryad, his outrage dwindled and he grew embarrassed. "I…didn't think of it that way."

"Great. Now apologize to her, and apologize to your leader."

It was a grueling hour before they reached the tree. The dryad smiled at both wizards, tired but happy. "I thank you, not only for your brave heroics in saving me from the Gnoll, not only for securing my safe transport home, but for your clever antics to bring me cheer and distraction from my pain."

Harry felt warm for having helped, and mildly embarrassed to be given such gratitude for saving her, because he viewed it as something he couldn't have not done. Greater embarrassment roiled within him for the comment about his constant arguing with Malfoy. He should have done better, forced himself to be more civil. Somehow. Draco, on the other hand, had never in his life been called a hero. The sincerity of the dryad was something he tucked away in a private corner of his heart, and he thought to himself that he would need to consider vialing the night's memories for a pensieve.

Draco gently lowered the woodland nymph against the trunk of his tree. The dryad's smile broadened, his whole face relaxing as the tree began to absorb her into it. "I'll never forget you," she cooed, voice sounding like sap gliding through the grooves of bark. Her skin flattened from lime green to the dry mottled brown of the tree, and she—he—looked so at peace. With only his face remaining, like an oversized knot in the trunk, he suddenly looked horribly alarmed. "No! Watch—" and he was gone.

Before either wizard could react, first Draco then Harry felt fangs strike their ankles.

Draco fell to his knees, hard. He felt the pressure of his landing but not the pain; his vision blurred and there was a terrible ringing in his ears. He could vaguely hear the distorted sound of his own name – Potter calling out to him. Dizziness like a tidal wave roared and swallowed him, and he closed his eyes.

Harry felt the shrieking numbness overtaking his body; like Novocain at the dentist, he knew there was pain, but the non-feeling was so bold that he felt swollen all over. He saw Draco fall to his knees, and the sight injected severe vertigo into him. "Malfoy!" he yelled, surprised to barely hear himself. He closed his eyes, battling the visions of a swirling world. When he heard no response, he dared to crack his eyes open for a flash. The Slytherin was still kneeling.

Draco tried to harness his panic into remembering what type of venoms could cause the symptoms he was experiencing. But—he found that every time he tried to reach for the rote memories…he couldn't. It was like the memories stood stacked on a table just out of reach…and he could see them, he knew they were there…but he just…couldn't…reach them. Confusion flooded him, and slowly the panic began to ease back into calm as his mind found it difficult to hold any thought or emotion still for long.

Harry realized he was still gripping his wand. He took a deep breath and raised his wand high to send red sparks…But the moment he tried to cast, it was like the sparks flew inward instead, and the electricity burned through the numbness. Harry screamed and stumbled, the dizziness overpowering him as he fell to the forest floor. He could feel his mind begin to blank. No. Harry grit his teeth, and blindly reached out, seeking Draco.

Draco concentrated on his breathing, trying to diffuse the vertigo. He had his wand. Best not to use it when the mind is affected. Or…or something happened. Inhale. The thing that bit him…where was it? He opened his eyes, and through the stubby grass, lay a black serpent with white eyes and a white tail-tip. It was staring at them. Exhale. "Potter?" he said, weak and shakey. A half formed thought…he could almost taste it. He closed his eyes. "Potter…" he said a little stronger. With great mental exertion, he clasped the idea in a single word. He whispered, "Parseltongue." Weariness bore through him, and he slumped down in the grass. He lost consciousness.

Harry heard Draco's voice, but couldn't make out what he was saying. He reached toward the sound, flashed open his eyes for a moment, and then found the boy's arm. He felt a sick, lurching sensation in his stomach, almost kin to the feeling of apparition…the world twirled around him, and he felt faint. My fault. He didn't know if the poison was deadly, but he damn well knew the forest was. Without magic, without escape, Harry did the last thing he could to try and protect Malfoy, as amends for failing him when he had begged to just do their detention like they were supposed to: he laid on top of the boy, covering as much of his body with his own as he could in his delirium. He opened his eyes once more, and saw a white snake with black eyes and a black tail-tip staring at them from the grass. Fuck you too, Harry thought as the world slipped away.

The dryad, healing, could not emerge from her tree, and watched as her saviours were stricken down by the Switch. She whistled, a sound like the dry rustle of leaves, and waited for the spiders. She would tell them what happened, and beg for intervention, for she knew the spiders kept close alliance with the Grounds Keeper. If they could send a message to him, if they could lead him here…

She watched as the dark haired boy protected his leader with his own body. She hoped there would be no death tonight. The Switch watched its prey lose consciousness, as it inverted black into white across its scales.

It was done.