Chapter 16

Harry looked at the hate in those red eyes and knew that this time it was for real. This time Voldemort was going to kill him. He raised his wand to ward off the curse, as Voldemort turned slightly.

"Avada kedavra." A spider rolled out of the entrance, stone dead. Voldemort turned back to Harry.

"Avada kedavra." Boggart/Harry keeled over backwards, then sat up again, a dazed look in its eyes.

"Get on with it Voldemort," yelled Harry. "I didn't come here to play games." A rustling noise behind him signalled the emergence of more spiders, their jaws clicking menacingly. Harry was shaking in his shoes, but he stood up straight as Voldemort turned to face him again.

"So, you have brought your little herd of creatures with you. Why don't we have a nice little duel Harry, just you and I? The animals are most… off putting." He glared at boggart/Harry, frantically waving its wand. Before he was able to step towards Harry, however, a boy barrelled forward, hitting him in the chest. Voldemort barely kept his balance.

Neville! He doesn't even have a wand!

"You're not going anywhere with Harry. You have to deal with me first, you evil slimebag, you give me back my wand and pay, I say PAY for…" Neville's voice trailed off, his shoulders shaking as he hit and kicked Voldemort. Harry saw a look in Voldemort's eyes that looked suspiciously like fear. The wizard lifted his wand arm in a movement that threw Neville back among the spiders. The spiders hissed and clicked, but didn't move.

'Say goodbye Harry, enough games. Avada kedavra." Harry ducked, the flash of green light hitting a spider behind him. The spider hissed. They charged forward, surrounding Voldemort in a flurry of legs as he stabbed and yelled.

"Your wand's not working," said Harry, to the recovering Neville. Voldemort was struggling to stay on his feet when he heard Hermione scream. An animal twice the size of a man emerged from the passage where they were hiding, its scorpion tail curled high over its back. The spiders scattered as it ploughed through them, growling. Harry shut his eyes as the manticore reared up, slashing Voldemort with its huge paws. The manticore turned on him and Neville, and he shrank back against the wall, holding his wand out. Hit it in the eye – it's the only place. He tried to keep one of the eyes in focus as the manticore reared up, knowing that it would be almost impossible to accurately blind it.

A sudden movement distracted him, and the manticore toppled sideways. It rolled over like a cat, twitching its tail high, the stinging end bulging as it turned to face the spider that had knocked it over. Seeing itself outnumbered by the eight-legged creatures, it dashed back towards the passage it had come from. Harry ran frantically to cut it off. Hermione! Ron!

Boggart/Harry ran across the manticore's line of sight and disappeared in a loud crack – at least Harry thought so. What's the manticore looking at? Growling, the beast was backing up, its tail between its legs. It turned and ran, the feet pounding finally into silence deep in the caves.

Voldemort had gone. Hermione and Ron climbed out of the passage and joined them, Ron looking nervously at the spiders that were inspecting their injuries and moving away into the caves. Two of them had picked up the dead one and carried it away.

"What happened, Harry, Neville? That was so scary, not knowing what you were doing in here."

"Last time you ever persuade me to hide behind a rock when Voldemort's around," growled Ron. His face was white. "What happened to Voldemort anyway? Did you kill him?"

I didn't do anything. I hadn't even time to think of a spell. Neville attacked him and the spiders attacked him and then the manticore attacked him and I think he must have disapparated, which means he must still be alive. Oh – and Neville's wand stopped working again. He used the killing curse twice and it didn't work. Though maybe it doesn't work on boggarts."

"It should work on a boggart," said Hermione. "Are you sure he disapparated, the manticore didn't eat him or something?"

"It didn't have time. I was busy with the manticore and when I turned around he had gone."

"We're going to find him again, aren't we,' said Neville, trying valiantly to stand up.

"No, he really has gone. He's not dead, but he's not here any more. I just know that he's a long way away now."

"Breakfast time," said Hermione, conjuring up a fire with the fragment of Voldemort's wand. The boys stared at her. 'I'm hungry even if you're not. It's hours since dinner." She took four tiny, amoebic looking fish out of her pocket and threw them in the fire, followed a few minutes later by a generous handful of leeches and six large black beetles.

"I don't know how you do it, Hermione," said Ron, looking admiringly at her and distastefully at the food – if both looks are possible at the same time, which Harry doubted.

"We're closer to the sea than the house," she said.

"How can you know that?" demanded Harry.

"I just know. If you fancy walking back into the Dementors, or wandering for another couple of days, that's fine, go back the way we came." She paused, as if daring him to do just that.

"No, I didn't mean that. I just mean, we've come so far, I don't know how you can possibly know where we are."

"I don't, but I know how to get out."

Ron looked as confused as Harry felt. Neville munched stolidly on his half burned, half raw fish. Once the meal was over they meekly got up and followed Hermione, followed by Boggart/Snape. The boggart had returned while they ate and gone straight to Neville. Neville was too exhausted to alter his appearance, so he glided along like a very sinister, normal looking Professor Snape.

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Draco was half-dozing on a dry patch of ground when he heard footsteps coming towards him. Thinking it was Voldemort returning, he sat up and took out his wand. His head cleared quickly as he realised the tread was heavy and soft – not human. He glanced quickly round the cave looking for an escape route. The footsteps paused.

"Man cub! How do you come here?"

Draco looked up, alarmed at the creature that had appeared in the entrance. He started backing away, along the wall.

"Wh-what are you?"

The manticore carried its tail high over its long, cat-like body. It lay down, staring at Draco, its tail twitching. Six months ago Draco might have relaxed slightly – but Proctor had taught him better. He swung his wand up and screamed out a curse as the animal pounced. The conjunctivitis spell hit it square in the eye, so that it stopped in mid-air, rolling over in agony. Draco barely avoided being crushed against the wall as he ran, jumping as high as he could to get to the space behind a rock, halfway up the far wall. Safely hidden, he turned round to look. The manticore was squealing, its paws over its eyes. A small animal ran up behind it – a mouse. It ran right up onto the manticore's face, causing it to snort and move back. Catching sight of it with its good eye, it screamed and ran, the mouse pursuing it deep into the labyrinth.

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Draco waited, cold and cramped. What can a mouse be doing this deep underground? Voldemort didn't come back, and he began to wonder whether Potter really had finished him off. Eventually he crawled out of his hiding place. Picking up his little bag, he took his wand out and concentrated on the water, visualising the crashing waves, the small beach. In time he began to sense a direction. He got up and started walking. Common sense couldn't help him out of this maze, but his feet seemed to know the way.

Hours later he blinked in bright daylight. The entrance he had arrived at was halfway up the cliff, looking down on the sea. Too disorientated to consider apparating, he waited for his eyes to adjust, then crawled on to the ledge and started climbing. Professor Snape met him at the top of the cliff explaining that the cave entrance he had arrived at was one that could be seen from the light house. Seconds later Draco found himself back in Dumbledore's office, still clutching the piece of driftwood that served as a Portkey. Neither Luna nor Ginny were present, and he left the office with barely a nod to the portraits, running to reach the Transfiguration class Snape had told him to supervise ahead of the students. By the time dinner came around he was certain food had never tasted so good.

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The following morning the four Gryffindors were back. Draco noticed that people gave them plenty of space – skirting round them in the corridor, avoiding their eyes when they walked into a room. They stuck together and didn't seem to mind. He wondered what sort of rumours were being told – he himself had said nothing of his exploits and every-one except Pansy had accepted Draco's explanation that the suit of armour had landed him in the hospital wing overnight. She had snorted in disbelief when he said that, and Draco had seen her in the corridor later, talking to Lisa.

Dumbledore summoned Draco after lunch on Wednesday. Everything seemed to be back to normal. Pansy had slept for a full day after the missing staff members returned, and was almost her normal self. Some of the other prefects who had looked almost dead on their feet were beginning to recover, but the four Gryffindors looked pale and tired, and Ginny still had deep purple shadows under her eyes as if she hadn't slept for a week. In less than three days the school would be almost empty, as the Hogwarts Express sped south.

As soon as he had arrived in Dumbledore's office and sat down in the chair that was placed for him, Madam Pomfrey leaned over him, taking his pulse and telling him to stick his tongue out. Draco squirmed away. 'I'm fine, really."

'Well have some chocolate at least. I don't know what this school is coming to. No-one in their right minds would send adult wizards to do the sort of thing you and your classmates have been up to." She glared at Dumbledore.

"Thankyou Poppy," he smiled pleasantly. "If Mr Malfoy insists he is in perfect health, you had probably better leave him. Perhaps you could check whether Molly Weasley has managed to round up some of the others, though I suspect they will be similarly recalcitrant."

Madam Pomfrey snorted. "Coming back like that, no real food for days and no proper sleep either – and first thing in the morning they're up and back out in the school. I must get you to organise some better locks for the hospital wing."

"I'll see to it, Poppy." Dumbledore stood up to let her out. Coming back, he folded his hands together and looked over his glasses at Draco.

"What happened to Voldemort?" asked Draco. "Is he dead?"

"No, he is not dead. I have confirmed that he is seriously injured, and presently hiding in the south of France."

"He didn't try to kill Potter?"

"Curiously, he did try to kill Potter. He failed."

Draco was disbelieving.

"Draco, if a wizard wishes to use a killing curse, he has to want the person – or thing – dead with all the power he possesses. This takes a certain amount of confidence. What do you think a boggart would change into when it saw Voldemort?"

Draco shook his head. He didn't think the wizard he'd spent several hours talking to was scared of anything.

"I can tell you, because we used one on him. In fact, I believe Miss Granger made the mistake of hugging the boggart in the belief that it was Mr Potter."

Draco scowled, an expression which Dumbledore didn't miss.

"Harry Potter and his little group of friends have overcome Voldemort through various means every time he has faced them. Knowing – as he has known before Harry was even born - that the two were destined to be enemies, he becomes a little less confident every time he faces him. How would you feel about performing a killing curse on the thing you were most afraid of?"

"You mean he couldn't kill Potter because he was afraid of him. That's nonsense!"

"Fear can be very debilitating. It is one of the few reasons why wands won't work. Interestingly, one of the other reasons is almost the opposite. When a person becomes confident enough to draw on the powers of nature, occasionally simple spells will fail. You will probably experience both these situations before you are very much older."

"Why did you need me at all? I didn't do any good did I?"

"On the contrary," said Dumbledore, "you conducted yourself remarkably well. We asked you to spend time, alone, with one of the most dangerous wizards alive. You have come back unharmed and without failing in your duty – to him or to me. He has asked a duty of you, hasn't he?"

Draco nodded.

"You will do it. I'm not telling you, it will be your own choice. When you are ready, come back and see me. In the meantime – study. Snape will instruct you tonight and tomorrow. As your understanding of Subneorancia increases, your ability to achieve your goals will increase."

"Professor – does this mean I'm a member of the Order and all that?"

"Not a regular one. What you do will be your own choice. I am not asking you to obey me, or Voldemort. All I ask is that you consult with both of us and act as you see fit. Meanwhile, study. Subneorancia is more important than you yet realise."

Draco turned to leave. As his hand was on the door however, Dumbledore had one last word.

"Do your best on Friday. One who works so hard will earn a reward – don't you think?"

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The final three days of term passed in a flurry. Most of the teachers had provided simple, fun activities for their classes – except Snape and McGonagall of course, who never seemed to lighten up. Draco spent a couple of hours each night studying with Snape, and an hour practising with Lisa. She was a bundle of nerves with the end of term and the planned display so close. On Friday morning he was on his way to the dungeons at break time when he met Potter and Granger heading in the other direction. Potter started turning away, but Draco stepped out in front of him to stop him.

"So – Potter has pulled it off for the sixth year in a row. Once again he has attempted, and failed to get rid of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Once again he has diced with death half a dozen times in a single day – and survived. Potter, I've got to say this. You have a very… admirable… persistence!"

Draco clapped Potter on the shoulder, shook his hand, then burst into peals of laughter. Potter looked very confused.

Hermione shrugged. "Never mind him, Harry. Let's go to the library."

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Dear Mother and Father,

I am sorry to leave you so suddenly. I appreciate your concern but I feel it would be far too disruptive to my career if I were to change schools now. All my friends are at Hogwarts. I will be very careful, as you initially requested, not to draw attention to myself.

Meantime I am in the Blue Mountains area, exploring the bush. Australia has a great many strange animals, I believe Mother would enjoy it here. I hope to travel to Uluru and some of the other ancient sites before returning to Hogwarts. Please do not try to follow me. I am old enough to look after myself.

With love

Draco

Draco sealed his parchment, and sent the little black morepork back across the sea to New Zealand with the letter firmly tied to its leg. He regretted leaving the bush – he had fallen in love with the Australian scenery, and it would have been well worthwhile travelling the desert as he had stated he was going to. Another time. I'll come back. It hurt, abandoning his parents like this. How can I leave them again? Mother was so upset the day I climbed Mt Pirongia. He hoped she would understand.

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"Just stay in his company as much as you can. Don't let him see you sending any messages. He will allow you to return to school next term, I am positive of that"

Draco wandered along the beach, smiling to himself as the waves lapped round his feet. In his head he was dancing. Light and surefooted, part of the washing of the waves and the rhythm of the earth. Flying like the birds of the air. In his shiny grey tunic he jumped and spun and caught, Lisa graceful like a butterfly. Then she had left. The Great Hall exploded with applause and he stood there, alone. There, and yet not there. Professor Flitwick had dimmed the lights, by starlight and moonlight he started moving again. He was a tree shaken by the wind, a river rushing to the sea, a flame that leaped and burned. And then he was just Draco. And there was silence. He bowed his head briefly and turned and left as the applause broke out, students standing on their chairs, standing on the tables. He was gone, sitting behind the stage with Lisa when Dumbledore stood up, waving his arms and requesting silence.

In his head he was dancing, yet his feet were on the sand and he felt the cool water wash over them. In the distance he saw a man approach. Voldemort!

It's too late to be scared.

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A/N

That's it folks. Journey's over, the rest is another story. To end with a beginning is such a cruel thing to do… Please review, let me know if any of the plot points are still confusing you, and what you think will happen now.