Harry would never forget the strang

Harry would never forget the strange and terrible things that Dumbledore told him that evening. It took Harry a very long time to grasp everything, and Dumbledore had to explain parts of the story to him over and over again.

Dumbledore told Harry that there was once a wizard called Voldemort who was the same as the nameless wizard some people called You-Know-Who. Voldemort was great and powerful, but he was also something Dumbledore called evil. Harry was not familiar with the word, and it took him a long time to understand it. Apparently, evil was some sort of great sadness inside you that made you want to hurt other living things. And that is why Voldemort had once killed Harry's parents, long ago, and even tried to kill Harry. But Harry hadn't died at all; he had escaped with just a scar. There had been some sort of magical accident, and Voldemort himself had been badly hurt. Everyone had assumed that he was dead, but he really wasn't. No one knew exactly what had happened, but somehow his wandering soul had eventually found its way into Professor Quirrell's body, and they had merged into one being.

Dumbledore tried to make Harry see that it would have been a very bad thing if Voldemort had been able to use the stone to make himself immortal, but Harry had a difficult time understanding this. Apparently, Dumbledore felt that someone who had turned evil was just going to keep hurting others, and that it was, overall, a good thing if an evil person was no longer around to hurt other living creatures. Harry could see that there was some sort of cold logic in this, but he couldn't help feeling a terrible stab in his heart when he thought about poor Quirrell and his shard. Quirrell had become Harry's friend, even if his sadness had made him want to hurt people in the past, including Harry. Surely, Harry felt, there must be some cure for this sort of evil that had plagued his sad friend? Some sort of medicine, like the cheering elixirs fairies gave to those who had glum dispositions? But Dumbledore just shook his head and said that to the best of his knowledge, no one had yet discovered a medicine that could cure evil.

But in the end, Dumbledore said something that made Harry feel a little bit better. He leaned forward across his desk and said in a soft voice: "It was the remnants of you mother's magic that caused Professor Quirrell's death, Harry. She died to protect you, you see, and there is a great power in sacrificial death, greater than any other magic, perhaps. But I am not entirely convinced, Harry, that Lord Voldemort is entirely gone, even now..."

"Really?" Harry blew his nose on a big handkerchief Dumbledore had thoughtfully provided for him. "Not entirely gone? Are... Are you just saying that to make me feel better-?" He could hear the trembling in his own voice. "I... I was so terribly fond of him, you see. Even if he was filled with sadness and evil." He couldn't help thinking that poor Lord Voldemort sounded a lot like his own Shard, but he didn't say so out loud. Harry could sense, of course, that Shard was terribly torn up over Quirrell's death as well, and Shard's grief added to Harry's own.

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "No, Harry. I'm not just saying this to make you feel better. I am convinced that, somehow, the Dark Lord will one day be back..."

Harry squeezed Dumbledore's wrinkled old hand gratefully. "Thank you, Professor Dumbledore!" he whispered. "You are so very kind to say that."

...

Professor McGonagall taught the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes for the rest of the year, but she did so without any great enthusiasm. The students spoke about Quirrell in hushed tones among themselves, while the teachers generally avoided mentioning him altogether after what had happened.

"Is it true that you killed Quirrell in a secret underground chamber?" whispered Draco to Harry one day the two of them were alone in the Slytherin common room.

Harry looked down. "It was a horrible accident, Draco! I didn't mean to kill him, really I didn't..." He swallowed, hard.

"Is it true that he was actually... You-Know-Who?" breathed Draco. "The Dark Lord himself?"

Harry nodded slowly. "That's what Dumbledore says." He didn't look up, but he could feel Draco's glance lingering on his face.

"You... killed the Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard of all time..." Draco's voice was almost inaudible.

Harry covered his face with his hands. "I know!" A small sob escaped him. "But I didn't mean to, Draco, I swear I didn't! I'd do anything to bring him back to life! I was so very fond of him, and we had just become friends. Professor Quirrell was ever so nice to me - he even offered to keep me by his side and be my friend."

"The... The Dark Lord said that? And you... want to bring him back?"

Harry nodded, and both boys fell silent.

"You know what, Harry?" whispered Draco finally. "I'm really glad you and Weasley are coming home with me for the Christmas holiday. I think my father would love to meet you..."

...

Draco's parents were the most wonderfully kind people Harry had ever met. Harry had been a little reluctant at first to accept Draco's thoughtful invitation to spend the holiday with his family - he knew that Leaf and Twig had been counting the days until his return - but as soon as he met the Malfoys, he was glad he chose to come home with Draco.

Harry missed Leaf and Twig terribly, of course, but it was so lovely to visit his new friend. Harry had sent Leaf and Twig new fishing hats, and they wrote him enthusiastic notes back saying how much they adored the hats. They also sent along a few items for the Malfoys, and Harry had suggested.

Ron's family had been very reluctant to let him go with Harry to the Malfoys - Harry supposed his parents must miss him very badly - but Ron finally got permission from his parents after promising to write to them at least twice a day.

"I think it was the thought of you that changed my Mum's mind, actually," confessed Ron in a whisper as the two boys sat in the back of the Malfoys family's splendid horse-drawn carriage on their way to Malfoy Manor on a chilly December day. "I told her that if I didn't go, you would be alone with the Malfoys for weeks..."

Malfoy Manor was as vast as half a forest, and exquisitely beautiful. It was carved out of frost-white marble and had all sorts of thrilling echoes in it. It was much too large for three people, of course, so his parents must have been very relieved that Draco had brought friends home with him for the holiday.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were ever so pleasant and friendly, even if their smiles seemed a little stiff at first. But they soon got over their initial shyness, and Mr. Malfoy asked Harry all sorts of questions about himself and about fairy-magic, and he took a keen interest in Harry's friendship with the unfortunate Quirrell. It was really a great comfort to be able to talk to someone so kind and sympathetic. Mrs. Malfoy was a little more quiet, but she admired Harry's fairy-made clothes, and she was very pleased when Harry gave all the Malfoys fairy-spun cloaks for Christmas. Harry would have given one to Ron as well, but he knew that Ron had long wished for a new wand. Ron's old wand had been rather old and tattered, so Harry had arranged for a new one for his friend.

"A new wand!" Ron's eyes lit up as he opened his present in the Malfoys' vast sitting room on Christmas morning. "Blimey! Thank you so much, Harry! What sort of wand is this? Willow?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. It doesn't have a magical thing inside it or anything, like the store-bought ones do, but it is a very good one still. I got it from a charming tree on the school grounds; she was so very pleased that one of her branches was going to be used for magic."

Ron almost dropped his wand. "This... This is a piece of the Whomping Willow?" He stared down at his new wand in horror.

Harry shrugged. "Yes, I supposed the tree did whomp a little, now that you mention it. Try the wand, Ron! It will be great, I promise!"

Ron hesitated for a while, but then he pointed his new wand at one of the portraits on the wall: "Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Heyyyyyyyy!" the portrait screamed as it shot off up into the air. "What are you doingggggggggg?"

"Uh oh." Draco gazed up into the air, where the portrait was now circling around high above their heads at dizzying speed, bumping against the tall arched ceiling at intervals. "That's grandfather Cygnus' portrait! He is not going to like that!"

"Oh, nonsense, boy!" said one of the other family portraits cheerfully. "If there was ever anyone who needed a little shaking up, it's the portrait of Cygnus Black. He's such a terrible bore! Always droning on and on about the greatness of the Black family!" The blond man in the portrait beamed at Harry and Ron. "The other side of the family, of course! I'm Abraxas, by the way. Abraxas Malfoy. Draco's other grandfather."

"Nice to meet you," said Harry politely. To his surprise, Shard was stirring in his mind now, muttering something about Abraxas being such a pain in the neck when he was a schoolboy. How did Shard know that?

Ron uttered a quick Finite Incantatem, and the sputtering portrait of Cygnus Black descended into its normal spot on the wall. Even Draco couldn't help giggling a little at the expression of outraged disbelief on Mr. Black's face. Cygnus Black tried to appeal to Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, but they merely ignored him and sipped their mulled wine. Apparently, they were used to his complaints.

Harry was touched to see a small pile of presents under the Malfoys' Christmas tree marked with his name as well. Ron got him some very interesting jumping edible frogs, and Ron's mother had sent along home-made green jumpers for everyone, including Harry. Mrs. Malfoy gave her new jumper an odd glance and shuddered ever so slightly, but both Mr. Malfoy and Draco put theirs on, and Ron looked very pleased. Mrs. Weasley had knitted silver serpents into the green jum