A door. How quaint.

The art of Occulmency is the wizard's (or witch's) defense against the art of Legilimency, what the muggles might call "mind reading." This spell, or technique, blocks intruders from entering the mind and is dependent on both the skill and the imagination of the casting witch or wizard. Some keep out the invader by brute force and some in more artistic ways. For example, if one were to try and delve into the mind of Hermione Granger, they would first be met with a seemingly endless row of shelves mirroring the Hogwarts library. Each book, upon first inspection, would be empty and the information stored in Granger's mind would be kept in relative safety. If Hermione would try and breach Draco's innermost thoughts, a task she has considered more than once, she would find an enviable fortress. Harry belongs to the first category of wizards who merely expel the Legilimens with raw power.

As Hermione found herself standing in a long dark corridor looking at plain wooden door at the far end, she couldn't help feeling slight smug at her own ability to come up with something more creative, and surely more secure, than a plain oak door with a brass door knob. Still, caution called for vigilance, and before Hermione took another step into Luna Lovegood's mind, she took inventory.

In her right hand, Hermione held a wand. Not the wand of Hyacinth Brown, but her own, a mental projection of both comfort and defense. Her clothes seemed refreshed though she still wore the outfit she had when Morgan captured her. Around her neck was something foreign, a pendant on a leather thong.

Fearing Morgan's games, Hermione scrambled to pull the object off getting it tangled in her hair until she was forced to pull it back down. Breathing hard, she closed her eyes trying to will the object away, and when that didn't work, she pointed her wand at it only to find any spells cast at herself wouldn't come.

"Fine," Hermione gritted out. "We'll play by your rules, whoever you are, but we will not like them."

Every little step she took forward illuminated the hallway from the floor under her foot. A pulsing, electronic type of light rushed from the soles of her feet and stretched forward towards the door. Each step was a neon facsimile of the colors of the rainbow and if Hermione could hear beyond her steps she would catch the hum of a note—so-fa-ti-do-la-do.

Magical disco lights aside, the dark walls of the hallway created an optical illusion. She could sense she grew closer to the door, yet it looked just as distant as ever until she was right in front of it and realized with a start that the door was actually no bigger than a tarot card.

"Damn," Hermione cursed, loud to her own ears. She got down on her hands and knees and without grace tried to examine the door. The knob felt fragile in her huge hands and a twist of it revealed it was locked. Double damn.

"Eat me."

"AHH!" Hermione stood suddenly and clutched a hand over her mentally projected heart. Here parasympathetic responses seemed intact in Luna's mind. Down near her feet, which now looked strangely far away and out of reach, stood a small chick shaped pastry with black painted eyes and a lumpy beak. It flipped and chirped, before looking at her with blank eyes. A large tag hung off its neck.

"Eat me!" It chirped again without opening its mouth, or beak, or whatever was the exit for its voice box.

"I will not!" Hermione declared. She waited for the frustrating silly feeling which should come with arguing with pastries, but it didn't come.

"You will if you want to get through me," said a second voice. "There's only one way through, and all you must do is chew."

Hermione whipped back around to the door which had grown at least an inch or two since her short conversation with the chick. "Did you just talk?"

"Well of course he did," chirped the chick who had flown over to the door to be in her line of sight. "And he's right, you know. Just eat me!"

"Luna's insane," Hermione whispered.

"Now, don't you talk about our lovely Luna Lovegood that way," the door chastised. "She's been kind enough to give you a key and you're already late."

"A key? Late?"

"Late for tea of course. And, what else did you think was around your neck?"

"Dense this one is," said the chick. The door responded with a thoroughly patronizing huff in agreement.

Hermione resisted her urge to yell at not-so-inanimate objects, and looked down at the pendant. It was gold or brass and in the shape of a capital "M" with an extra loop on the end. She had seen it before but couldn't place where. "So if I eat him? Which he's apparently consenting to…," Hermione shuddered. "Then I can open you with this key?"

"Now she's catching on! Eat me already!" The chick pecked futilely at Hermione's shoes and flapped its thick, glutinous wings in impatience. "You can't go back the way you came in, the only way is forward. Or sideways, but I wouldn't suggest that."

"No, sideways is never preferable. Best to keep to the path." The door gave a cough and a tremor. Hermione started to respond that she could make her own decisions until she realized these objects were probably Luna herself speaking.

Hermione stooped down and grabbed the chick with one confident movement.

"Oi! Easy! That hurt."

"I'm afraid this next part will hurt a lot more," Hermione said. She wondered if she should kill the tiny bread bird beforehand.

"Suppose so,' said the bird in its final moments. Hermione took shoved the flaky feathered creature into her mouth and bit down hard in hope it would suffer less. The bird tasted like burnt marshmallow and toast, overly sweet and chewy. The second he had hit her tongue he stopped moving which made him slightly easier to chew.

"Hurry up now!" barked the door. "I did say you're late!"

Hermione nodded as if she were being scolded by a professor and swallowed her former conversational companion in one dry gulp. Bits of toffee like pieces horrifyingly stuck to the roof of her mouth and she gagged.

"Not a fan of sweets?"

"Not ones that talk, no," Hermione admitted. Then she felt a queer sensation starting in her stomach. It was as if there were an invisible string attached to her gut and it began to pull her down to the floor. Her descent was not to her hands and knees, but rather a vertical decline as if she were riding an invisible elevator. When she looked down to her feet she realized she was being shrunk.

The shrinking process didn't happen to her whole body at once. No, it started with her head and torso, leaving long legs and arms and hands bigger than her head of bushy hair. Then the legs popped and started flowing down into her shoes. Her blouse became a giant shroud casting everything into darkness. When the disorientating process was done, Hermione fought awkwardly between her tipped over trainers (and more alarmingly, her panties) to find an exit.

Hermione didn't have time to consider her nudeness in Luna's mind before her previous wardrobe vanished and she was left standing before the talking door with nothing but the key around her neck and a wand in her hand. She thought she could hear the door chuckling.

"Well come on then," the door said as it swung open. A crisp spring-like air rushed over Hermione making her clutch her arms over her most sensitive parts.

"Thought I needed a 'key'?"

"That was always metaphorical, sweetheart."

The creeping morning sunlight would have woken Harry eventually, but it was the shuddering of Grimmauld Place that had him sitting and seeking out the warm body that supposed to be next to him. His hand roamed over crinkled sheets as the house gave another violent tremor.

"Hermione, Ron, Hagrid, Molly," Harry said their names like a litany. "Teddy, George, Minerva, Ginny, Arthur, Charlie, Bill, Neville, Luna… Draco."

"The names of the living?"

Harry nodded once and sought his glasses. The portrait of Remus Lupin smiled at him from the far wall with eyes that betrayed a heavy sadness and full understanding.

"Draco is a new one," Lupin remarked, and Harry thought he detected a hint of amusement in the man's voice. A bashfulness overcame Harry and he mentally noted to perhaps move Lupin to dining area or perhaps the drawing room.

The flat shook again causing the miscellaneous knickknacks on Harry's nightstand to jump up and down while Remus's portrait swayed on its lone nail. Harry pulled himself up from the bed and looked around dumbly looking for the source of the quake.

"What was that?" he asked Remus.

"I believe the young witch you brought in yesterday is practicing spells with the headmistress."

Harry pushed open the second-floor library door an inch or two and caught sight of Sully and Ginny standing with wands raised and chests heaving. Ginny had assumed a defensive stance which looked like a modified approach to what was taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her hair had been put up in a hastily done ponytail which rocked round her shoulders from the force of the last cast spell. For a moment Harry felt a surge of affection for Ginny which bordered a little more than brotherly love, and he couldn't help the sad smile that crossed his features.

"Again," barked McGonagall from an unseen corner of the room.

Sully stood up straight and held her wand tight before uttering a stunning spell. Though she seemed to lack the traditional conviction needed to pull off the hex, the force which came from her wand hit Ginny's shield like a cannon blast. The room and the rest of the flat shook once more and Harry saw various debris caught by magic and secured in place by what he assumed was the headmistress's own spell. The violence caused the door to swing open and Harry took that moment to enter the room.

"That was quite a stun," Harry said. He cocked an eyebrow at Sully who was casting a glare at her feet.

"Mr. Potter." McGonagall stepped between the two dualists. "I'm afraid Miss Murdoch is having difficulties controlling her magic. I hope you don't mind us practicing here."

Harry blinked a bit stunned at the idea of the headmistress asking permission to use his house. "It's no problem. What's going on?"

"It seems that once my magic came back, it made up for lost time," Sully said in a huff. She collapsed on the same large chair Harry had seen Draco in the other day and tossed her wand in her lap. "It's like accidental magic, but worse."

The air around Sully crackled silver and green and Ginny giggled. "She's been putting of Slytherin colored sparks every time she get's annoyed," Ginny said. Sully turned her glare to the other red head and Ginny coughed. "Sorry. But it is sort of cute."

"Oh, shut it," Sully growled. "How am I supposed to go back to Hogwarts like this?"

"At least no one would dare make you angry," Harry offered. He put up a placating hand when Sully turned her sharp eyes on him.

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "When Poppy is done with her suppressor potion, you should be able to return to class without trouble. I doubt the effects of Morgana's spell will last indefinitely."

"That is if we can ever go back," Ginny said, and the room fell into an awkward silence.

Harry felt the urgency of the situation fall on his shoulders once more and he suddenly felt very tired and worn. The secondhand on an old cuckoo clock ticked loud like thunder without regard to the danger each lost second amounted to.

"Where are the others?" Harry asked. The need to do something, to take some sort of action, filled him and he twitched on his feet.

Ginny looked to McGonagall and bit her lip. The headmistress's eyes took a softness which Harry did not like and he was racing down the stairs to the dining room before hearing her reply. Barging through the old doors, Harry only stopped when he had shoved George out of his path and saw Draco leaning over the Marauder's Map with Neville.

"You were going to leave? Without me?" Harry asked. For the first time in what felt like ages, he had the urge to punch Draco in his posh face. The others stood already dressed in their coats with their rucksacks piled in the corner. "Are you insane?"

"I told you that you wouldn't make it out the door without him, Malfoy," Ron said from by the fireplace. "Sorry, mate. He wouldn't listen."

"Well, were you going to come and wake me?" Harry turned on his friend.

Ron wouldn't meet his eyes and instead gave his brother a nod. "I think we need to let the odd couple have a word." As they filed out of the room, Ron gave Harry's shoulder a passing squeeze and patted him on the back. "Don't go too hard on him mate," he whispered. Ron's face scrunched into something like distaste at his own words. "Can't believe I just said that," he muttered on his way out.

Harry let the door shut and counted to three in his head before marching over to Draco. "What the hell?"

"I didn't see the reason to include you," Draco said coolly. He smoothed out the front of his coat and picked at invisible piece of dust.

"Are you trying to play hero alone?" Harry asked. The conversation already felt surreal.

"Gods, no!" Draco scrunched up his nose. His hand flitted over the hilt of Excalibur under his jacket and Harry didn't miss the movement. "The sword might give me a boost of bravery but I'm not an idiot. Didn't you see the others you just kicked out?"

"I don't like this. I don't like the idea of you leaving me here, and I don't like the power Excalibur has over you." Harry moved closer to Draco but kept himself out of touching distance. His old Gryffindor temper surged when Draco scoffed. "I'm serious. That sword is changing you! It's got some sort of charm. Why else would you want to leave me out?"

"It wasn't my idea alone," Draco replied quietly.

"But why?" Harry retreated a step and then steeled forward two.

"Because this isn't your battle, Potter!" Draco's face contorted from the deceptive calm façade to anger and then to helplessness. "This is mine," he gestured to the sword. "From my cursed blood. From the first betrayal, to the curse that killed your parents, to the destruction of Hogwarts. My burden, all of it! Not yours."

Harry swallowed. "Hermione and Luna are my friends, my family. Even if this was just your battle, I'm not going to stand by and wait for their rescue." Draco's mask was back in place by the time Harry had said his words. "And that's rubbish, you know? This is all somehow your fault, Malfoy?"

"You can't change the past, Potter. You can't change facts!"

"So this is some sort of suicidal redemption? Draco the Martyr?"

"It will be if I have to worry about you getting the in way with your insensible Gryffindor bravery and your utter stupidity!" This time Harry did shove Draco and he had the pleasure of the other's face lighting up in surprise before he knocked into the table. Years of resentment and tension threatened to pour out from Harry but the small grin on Draco's face stopped him. "See? That right there? That's why you shouldn't come. You don't think before you act."

"I have lost too much to let you do this without me," Harry said. He hated the way his voice sounded, how he felt like he was pleading. He got closer to Draco and breathed a little easier when he didn't flinch away. Harry hooked Draco around the waist and put his head on the Slytherin's shoulder.

The two stood for a moment and it felt too much like goodbye for either to move. Harry felt the solid lean body under him and wondered at how fate could be so cruel to the both of them. He shuddered. "You don't need redemption, you know that?"

"I don't care for redemption," Draco said. He rubbed a hand down Harry's back.

"Liar." Harry sighed and pushed up enough to look at Draco directly. He freed a hand and flicked his wand summoning his clothes and ruck without words. Draco raised an eyebrow but didn't remark on the silent spell. "If you think you can make it out of this flat without me, you're dead wrong."

Threading a pale hand through Harry's messy locks, Draco tilted Harry's head until they were looking evenly at each other. Harry had always felt like he could see Draco, see the true boy who hid behind the Occlumency and the lies, but at this moment he felt as if the tables had turned while he wasn't paying attention, as if Draco could see him just as clearly.

"You're not leaving me," Harry reiterated.

"I love you, too," Draco replied.

A large tree just within Hermione's reach grew off the pebbled path and hanging from it's limbs were dresses, aprons, and stockings of various sizes and colors. A mile back, or what she assumed was a mile as both time and distance seemed to be skewed in the mind of Luna Lovegood, Hermione had found a bush which produced several comfortable pairs of trainers.

The land itself looked as if it were painted. Hermione was sure she would smear the rocks about like clumps of oil if she pushed hard enough on them. The sky was a pastel blue and everything felt and sounded like it came from a whimsical storybook. There was a loneliness too. Something sweet in the air that represented the closed off mind of someone who was not easily understood by those outside this wonderland. Hermione herself had almost been moved to tears several times by the beauty and complexity of what was Luna Lovegood's mind. The girl had made a whole world, a haven. A repose.

And Morgana had gone and tainted parts of this world with her magic. The forest, it seemed, was ill. Through the woods on either side of the road, Hermione could glimpse trees whose beauty had faded and whose limbs snapped or sagged. There was decay where there should be life. Even the magical creatures whose eyes, fins, feathers, and fur could be glimpsed from the corners of her eyes drooped and appeared dull.

Hermione ripped a blue and white dress down from the tree. The dress apparently wasn't ripe yet as the colors faded towards the arms and a slight rip appeared on the collar when she had tugged. But the ensemble was more or less in one piece and Hermione tugged it on as she continued down her path. There were several ties and ribbons she was not sure how to secure and ended walking with several dragging along the ground.

"You're late for tea."

"She's late. She's late."

"Luna…. Luna… we miss you, Luna…"

"Have you ever seen such a stupid girl?"

"Can't go that way. Don't—not that way. That way is wrong."

"Turn around. Wouldn't that be more fun?"

"Sideways! Sideways!"

"Hush!" shouted Hermione. The cacophony of voices fell to quiet indistinguishable whispers and Hermione threw her hands over her ears. "Hush, please, for one moment."

"She won't make it to tea, I tell you!"

The voices had been coming and going ever since she had made her way through the door. Their intensity changed with every step until Hermione couldn't tell where they were coming from, or whether they were manifestations of Luna's defense or starting inside her own mind. Some sounded like Luna but older and sweeter, and some sounded male. Some spoke in languages Hermione couldn't recognize.

Quickening her steps, Hermione raced down the path until the light started to fade and she felt as if her legs might give way under her. Exhaustion was as much as a fabrication as was everything else in this world but it was still hard to override the voice in her brain which told her to conserve energy and sent signals of fatigue. She panted feeling sticky underneath her new clothes. There had to be a way to find Luna, to find the real Luna in this mess. And while time was slower here, that did not mean it stopped altogether. The unconscious Brown could wake any moment and Hermione thought she could feel the ghost of her physical body growing cold on the cell floor.

"Luna!" Hermione shouted. Her voice hit an invisible wall and echoed back to her. "Luna! Please!"

"Follow the path. Don't go sideways."

"What does that mean?!" Hermione threw her hands up in frustration. Her wrist knocked against the pendant around her neck and she glared down at the strange cursive "M." "What the hell is all this?" she asked in a smaller voice. Sideways. With a trembling finger Hermione traced the pendant starting from the top.

"Oi!"

A strangely familiar voice broke Hermione from her revelry and she hadn't noticed until then that she had sat down. Her first thought was one of panic as the cobblestone path she had been following had disappeared and she was now sitting in small green clearing. "Whose there?"

"Don't recognize me?"

The strange voice came from right in front and Hermione felt someone standing close to her. The air wavered and the colors flowed together until the shadow of a tall, lean figure appeared.

"This is damn harder than I thought it would be," said the voice.

Hermione's heart was beating so hard she could feel it in her throat. "George?" she asked.

"Close," said the shade. It flickered, morphed, and then smoothed out into soft blue tones until the form of Fred Weasley stood in front of her. "How are you, Hermione? Taking care of my brat of a brother?"

"Fred? Fred!" Hermione stumbled to her feet and threw herself on the apparition. She only had a moment to worry about passing through him completely before she felt herself hit a hard body. Fred stumbled a step back. Hermione felt a solid arm fall over her shoulders. "What is this?"

"Luna called, said you might need some help," Fred replied. He was smiling down at her and Hermione brushed the tears from her eyes to see him better. His body looked much like the ghosts she had grown used to seeing around Hogwarts, but he felt as solid as any living person. That fascination with magic Hermione had first felt when she had learned she was a witch came back to her in that moment. She felt dumb with the awe of it.

"I'll never demean Luna ever again," Hermione vowed to herself. Her heart was still thudding but now with the sorrow that Ron or George wasn't here with her.

"She never thought you were trying to be mean," Fred said. He rubbed a tear off Hermione's cheek. "We better go. She's waiting, and she can't leave without Morgana sensing it."

Fred glanced around the clearing and tilted his head as if listening to something far away. Hermione took a step back and nodded. A hundred questions bombarded her mind and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking them.

"This way! Come on!" Fred grinned and darted towards the forest. His hand caught Hermione's as he moved, and Hermione's breath caught as she was dragged along. The trees were changing color from grey and brown to fanciful pastels and they moved together with an unnatural speed like two birds in flight.

"Stop! Stop! STOP!"

"Umph—"

"When are we going to purchase more invisibility cloaks? Honestly, we're all adults, right?" Ron grumbled. "It's not like they're illegal."

Draco thumped the back of Harry's head after a moment of maneuvering underneath the silky material of the cloak. Potter had the gall to give him a glare and Draco just pointed to the back of his ankle where Harry had just run into him at full force under the cloak. The boy was blind with or without the glasses and being invisible made him even more of a threat to others.

The taller Weasley stood snickering with his hands in his pockets. If it weren't for his eyes flicking up and down the empty streets of Hogsmeade, Draco would have thought he wasn't taking their mission seriously.

"It's really odd to see that snobby scowl on Harry's face, mate," Ron added to his unnecessary commentary.

Polyjuice potion, it seemed, featured in many of the Gryffindor's plans, and Draco had disguised himself as Harry while the real hero followed behind invisible. Draco felt uncomfortable in his newly transfigured body and right now was sporting a full bladder he was unable to get the courage to relieve.

"Sorry to distress you, Weasel," Draco sniffed. "Hopefully we won't have to resort to such rash measures on our next adventure."

"Resorting to old insults, Ferret? Nice to know somethings don't change."

"You do kind of resemble a weasel," George interrupted and grabbed his brother by the arm dragging him a little way up the street. "It's all clear."

"Where are the Aurors?" Harry faux-whispered.

Draco could feel the irritation building. It manifested as a sore spot on the back of his neck and he rubbed the offending area with a gloved hand. "We should hurry," he said. "I think the potion is beginning to wear."

"Oi! Hey! You alright?"

The two Harrys looked up to see George standing over a lump in the snow outside the gate to Hogwarts. George leaned forward to take a better look and then jumped back as if stung. The invisible Harry hurried towards the scene and Draco followed close behind. The old fear Draco had always lived with kept threatening to freeze him on the spot and it was only the comforting weight of Excalibur and Harry's presence kept him going. He cursed his own cowardice and forced himself to look down at whatever the older Weasley had found.

Half-buried by snow lay a young Auror. Draco stifled a gasp. All over the young man's body crawled thick vines Draco had first mistaken for snakes. The vines were peppered with small red and purple flower buds which puffed out a sort of yellow dust.

"Don't touch him," George warned.

"No shit," Ron gulped. "What are those?"

"Whatever they are," Harry said. "They're keeping him asleep."

"He's not dead?" Draco asked.

"Look, you can see him breathing," Harry answered.

The Auror's chest rose and dipped in small shallow breaths. Draco felt a sort of relief at not having to deal with the guards which he couldn't be bothered to feel guilty about. At the same time, not knowing the extent of Morgana's power or influence set him on edge. He wondered if the small portkey wizard in the travel shop and everyone else in the town were similarly inflicted. Then his thoughts turned to a small fantasy of running away to France with Harry in tow and leaving this whole mess behind. He wagered he could last a little while as an internationally wanted wizard. Malfoys had done it before.

George drew his wand and Draco stayed the other's hand. "Don't. Trying to break the hex might alert Morgana of our presence," Draco said. He swallowed and looked away from Ron's cold stare. "We'll come for him after."

A tension dropped over the four of them and Draco didn't realize he had a tight grip on the wand in his pocket until Harry subtlety placed a hand on the back of his jacket.

"Look," Harry said and took off the cloak to point down the bridge. "Neville's Patronus."

A large hare bound towards the group in a messy zig-zag pattern before coming to a panting halt in front of him. "I'm in the headmistress's office. There's Auror's but they're under some spell. Come quickly."

The hare disappeared in a mist.

"When did Longbottom's Patronus change?" Ron asked. Draco resisted a facepalm at the inconsequential details Ron seemed to enjoy clinging to.

"When he and Luna got together, I suppose," Harry said shrugging. He folded the invisibility cloak and placed it in his ruck.

"That's terribly romantic, can we get going?" Despite his attitude Draco waited for someone else to make the first step towards Hogwarts.

"You sure the Gryffindor common room is where the cauldron is?" George asked Draco as they crossed onto the campus with wands drawn.

Still unable to feel fully at ease with the Weasley's, Draco eyed him before answering. He thought with every step closer to danger he felt more paranoid of everything and everyone around him. Whether this was Excalibur's influence or his own Slytherin personality, he was unsure.

"Morgana threw the Hallow's Eve party in the common room for a reason," Draco supplied. "When Merlin hid the cauldron, he put in a place where the descendent of Arthur would be able to find it."

"And he thought that descendent would be a Gryffindor," Ron supplied. He looked awfully smug at the idea.

"Well, obviously he was mistaken." Draco bit his lower lip and felt it thin under his teeth. He took his gloves off and watched his hands shift from the bronze of Harry's complexion to the pale white of his own. "Times up."

"We have more," Harry offered.

"It was only meant to get me into the castle." Draco looked around at the square and thought about how the dark lord had once stood just yards away over Harry's limp body. "Harry and I will head to the Gryffindor common room."

"Take the map and find Luna and Hermione, then get the hell out," Harry ordered Ron. The two friends came together for a brief hug and Draco watched feeling out of place once more.

"If you don't take care of Luna, I'll kill you myself," Draco warned.

"You're just a basket of fun," George Weasley said and clapped Draco on the back sending him stumbling forward a step. "Don't worry, mate. She'll be fine with us." George gave him a wink and the two red heads left Harry and Draco behind.

They walked quietly through the halls on the way to the Gryffindor dormitories cautious of every shadow and sound. Harry took forward and Draco watched behind them. His eyes flicked over every surface and his hands bounced between the sword and his wand.

"The portraits," Draco whispered.

"They're all gone," Harry replied nodding.

Along the walls were landscapes, black backdrops, and various scenes all without the people who should be occupying them. Some paintings had been slashed or covered in the same strange creeping vines that had entrapped the Auror. At one turn they found Mrs. Norris unconscious and laying in small bundle under a suit of armor.

"I didn't think I could feel sympathy for her," Draco said.

A roaring noise not unlike a speeding train ripped through the hallway shortly followed by a tremor which caused Draco to lose his footing and fall on one knee. Harry wasn't much better off as he tried to grab hold of Draco's shoulders and ended up flat on his back. The suit of armor tilted and for a horrifying moment Draco could imagine the crushed body of Mrs. Norris decorating the hall in blood and fur. Without thought his had Excalibur drawn and was cutting through the vines. They shriveled on themselves turning into dry husks, and Draco had the yowling cat close to his chest as the armor smashed to the floor.

Just ahead, the vacant portrait of the fat lady fell to the side and the door to Gryffindor opened. Draco placed the yowling Mrs. Norris on the ground where she fled away from the boys and their cursed fate.

"Scared, Malfoy?" Harry asked with a hint of bravado.

"Immensely...terrified..."

"Oh..." Harry looked at Draco in an apologetic way which just made the current situation more confusing to the Slytherin and grabbed his hand. "I'll be here right beside you," Harry added.

Then they walked, hand in hand, into the Gryffindor common room.