ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅʀᴀᴛᴛᴇᴅ ʟɪʟᴀ ʜᴏʟᴍᴇꜱ || ᴅʀᴀᴄᴏ ᴍᴀʟꜰᴏʏ x ᴏᴄ || ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ 1-3

the end of the beginning

News of what happened spread like wildfire. Ron was ready to return the next day, but Harry was still unconscious.

Malfoy was still irritable as to what happened in the common room, and news of that spread quickly as well. Fred and George wouldn't stop badgering me for the password, until one day I finally gave in. The Slytherins were not very pleased with this, as the twins set off several dungbombs in the common area. They had to change the password again, spoiling the fun. Unfortunately, however, Slytherin was still winning the House Cup by a long shot.

"Who even cares?" I rolled my eyes at Malfoy after the fourth time he'd brought it up in our final Potions class. "We'll get you next year, and besides I'm not accepting any negativity right now. I'm going to Greece."

"No you're not," he said it with such certainty that I almost questioned myself.

"Yes I am," I told him.

"No you're not," he repeated, growing horrified. "Because I'm going to Greece."

"Greece is a big country, you know," Dean piped in from beside us. He'd been returning ingredients. "Don't throw a fit, Malfoy, it's not likely that we'll run into each other."

Malfoy grew impossibly paler. "Who is we?"

Dean gestured vaguely at myself, himself, Neville, and Seamus. "All of us."

Malfoy put his head in his hands and hardly uttered a word for the rest of the class.

I visited Harry in the Hospital Wing a few afternoons later, surprised when I saw that Dumbledore was there.

"Afternoon, sir," I greeted him.

"Good afternoon," he smiled at me. "According to Poppy, Harry's in good shape. Hopefully he'll wake soon."

"Oh, good," I felt some of my nerves settle. I wasn't ready to leave yet, so instead I pulled up a stool at Harry's bedside, watching his chest rise and fall shallowly.

"Sir," I began. "What happened after we left? To Quirrel and You-Know-Who?"

"Before I tell you that, Lila, you must promise me something," he said cryptically. Curiously, I cocked my head.

"Depends on what it is," I conceded.

"Promise me you'll say his name."

"I—" taken aback, I stammered. "The Dark Lord's? Nobody else says it besides Harry."

"The first step to conquering fear is to acknowledge it for what it is," Dumbledore said sagely. "And you'll soon find that Voldemort is just a name. Merely another tactic of his to strike fear into our hearts. Saying the name is how we stand up to him and show him we're not afraid."

"What if I am afraid?" I shuddered. I didn't like to admit it out loud, but it was true regardless.

"You of all people should not be afraid, Lila," Dumbledore told me. "Wary, sure, but never afraid."

Just what he meant by that, I didn't know. You of all people. What did I have to do with any of this?

"What happened to him then?" I asked, then made myself say it. "Voldemort."

"He hasn't died," Dumbledore shook his head. "He's accounted for that. He's likely floating off somewhere, looking for another physical form to inhabit. Since he is not truly alive, he cannot truly be killed."

I tried to hide the unease I felt. "Quirrel?"

Dumbledore sighed deeply. "Unfortunately, Voldemort hung on until Quirrel's very last breath."