“A cave in Ireland?” Hermione asked Harry the moment Malfoy left the Burrow.

Despite his exhaustion, Harry eagerly recounted to his friends the information Malfoy had disclosed upstairs. They listened with rapt attention.

“Do you reckon he’s telling the truth, mate?” Ron asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “He’s hardly a trustworthy bloke.”

“I think so,” said Harry. “He owed me, so he’d have no reason to lie. Why come here at all if he was just going to deceive us?”

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time,” Ron retorted matter-of-factly. “He’s a dark wizard—deception is their specialty for wriggling out of trouble.”

Harry too had pondered whether Malfoy was being truthful, but felt it unlikely he would deceive him again. “I’m not so sure, Ron. He seemed genuine this time. Though he’s lied before, he once protected us at Malfoy Manor by not revealing who we were to his parents and Bellatrix. Perhaps he’s changing and seeing he doesn’t belong with the dark side.”

“Your dad did say the Malfoys hoped to aid the Ministry in return for exoneration and restored reputation,” Hermione reminded Ron, prompting Harry to turn towards her.

“Do you reckon Kingsley would permit it?” Ron asked.

“It doesn’t matter to me whether he accepts or not,” Hermione said calmly. “As long as the Malfoys don’t cause further harm with their influence, I’m fine either way.”

“I think I should help them,” Harry suddenly interjected. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gasped in surprise.

“Have you lost your mind?” Ron asked, eyes wide.

“What makes you say that, Harry?” Hermione inquired curiously, then added, “I mean, it’s not shocking that you want to help people, even when it seems nonsensical. But I hope you’re thinking this through clearly before trying to help the Malfoys in particular.”

“Because I owe Narcissa,” Harry explained simply.

They all stared at him in disbelief.

Harry reminded them of what happened the night of the war when he surrendered himself to Voldemort in the Forbidden Forest. “...Narcissa was so worried about her son that she lied to Voldemort, telling him I was dead.” He paused, then added, “I don’t think she ever truly supported Voldemort more than her own family.”

They finally understood, but Ron snorted in disbelief.

“They’re fortunate that you’re protecting them from imprisonment in Azkaban. If she had not saved you from You-Know-Who, I wonder how Draco would cope now without his parents, assuming You-Know-Who would’ve killed them? He would have struggled even more to find acceptance in a society that despises his family now more than ever. Just imagine being poor as well.”

Hermione sharply reminded Ron of Kingsley’s warning to the Malfoys that afternoon: “Kingsley was only threatening to seize all their wealth if they lied,” she said, “I don’t think he would actually leave Draco penniless, even if it came to that. It would be too cruel.”

“I find it hard to believe Minister Kingsley would be so heartless,” said Ginny. “I know him well, and he’s not the type to act cruelly.”

Ron slammed his fist against the wall in anger. “The Malfoys are cruel people. Now they’re facing the harsh consequences of their actions. I can’t forget how they’ve mocked our family for being poor. I want to see them struggle and be called poor themselves.”

Harry silently agreed the Malfoys’ wealth and power stemmed from their pureblood status. Though the Weasleys were purebloods too, the Malfoys had often derided them for their lack of money and sympathy for Muggles.

“How do you plan on helping them, Harry?” Hermione asked eagerly, her eyes bright with curiosity.

Ron shook his head in disbelief. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d help the Malfoys after how much you hated them.”

“I don’t hate the Malfoys,” Harry said, hesitating as he searched for the right words. “It’s complicated, but that’s in the past. Now I need to speak with Kingsley and share what I know. We’ll take it from there.”

“Do you think Kingsley would be receptive to what you have to say?” Ginny asked uncertainly.

“It couldn’t hurt to try, but I’d really prefer to avoid going to the Ministry if possible,” he replied.

“We could speak with Mr. Weasley,” Hermione suggested. “Perhaps he could persuade Kingsley to come here to the Burrow instead.”

“Let’s also not forget to ask Hagrid about the Thestrals in Ireland and get his thoughts,” Ginny reminded them.

They all nodded in agreement.

By then, Harry’s exhaustion had reached its limit, and sleep slowly overtook him as his eyelids grew heavier. They decided to postpone that night’s plans to speak with Mr. Weasley until the following day; it was late, and they all felt the need to rest. Since Harry hadn’t been able to eat anything that day, they had given him a vial of Nutrition Potion. By the time they left Harry’s room, he was already fast asleep.

----------------------------------------

Morning sunlight streamed through the windows, rousing Harry from sleep. Disoriented, he squinted against the bright light and saw only a blurry ceiling. Where am I? Then, turning his head, he spotted his belongings scattered around the familiar room. Oh right, the Burrow, he remembered, relaxing as the fog of sleep lifted.

His body felt really weak when he hoisted himself up from the bed.

That’s strange, he said to himself. Wincing in pain, he tried to stand but collapsed heavily to the floor as his knees buckled unsteadily beneath him. His throat felt raw and tender when he swallowed, and he let out an involuntary sigh. What is happening to me? he wondered.

Harry moved slowly and unsteadily when he decided to go downstairs for breakfast. Clutching walls and furniture, he staggered from his room and down the staircase. Seeing Mr. Weasley also heading to breakfast, Harry managed an awkward smile. Suddenly, Harry’s legs buckled, but before he could fall, Mr. Weasley scooped him up and carried him to the kitchen despite Harry’s embarrassed protests. When Mr. Weasley set him down at the table, Harry’s face was red. The Weasleys and Hermione, conversing quietly with concerned expressions, glanced his way. Harry gave them a feeble smile.

“Oh, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said as she cupped his face in her hands. “You’re so pale, dear. Did you sleep alright? Are you feeling okay?”

Harry tensed, the warm familiarity of her touch now foreign. Mere moments ago, he would have welcomed it with a smile. But now, something was amiss. The room swirled around him, erasing all recollection of why he should be here. He recoiled from Mrs. Weasley, eyes darting wildly around the table of strangers masquerading as friends.

With a look of confusion in her eyes, Mrs. Weasley asked, “Harry, are you alright?” As she reached out to touch him again, he flinched, causing her to freeze abruptly. “Harry?”

Trying to focus on the unfamiliar woman beside him, Harry jerked his head around when someone else spoke. Hermione fixed him with a questioning look and asked, “What’s going on, Harry? What’s wrong?”

Memories flooded back to Harry. He blinked a couple times before answering breathlessly, “Hermione… I—I’m fine.”

Ron anxiously asked, “Are you sure, mate? You seemed lost for a moment.”

Harry nodded, unable to find his voice as his throat tightened too much to speak.

“If you say so,” his red-haired friend said uncertainly. “You were looking at us like we were strangers.”

Harry cleared his throat and whispered, barely audible, his automatic response of “I’m fine.”

The truth was panic threatened to overwhelm him when he thought his memories had vanished entirely. Now he realized his condition was worse than the day before. Though he wouldn’t acknowledge it, his health was rapidly deteriorating. A restless night’s sleep had left him with a headache, bloodshot eyes, and a throat so dry and sore that coughing brought up blood. The burning sensation left lingering side effects on Harry’s skin. He winced in pain with every sudden movement, his heightened sense of touch exacerbating the lingering internal agony.

Everyone watched Harry anxiously as he picked at his breakfast, gingerly scooping small bites of food and occasionally grimacing in pain. Seeing his hands shake violently, causing his silverware to clatter loudly to his plate several times, was distressing for them. After each dropped utensil, they observed Harry lower his head in frustration and take deep breaths to regain his composure before attempting to eat again. Though aware of their concerned stares, he avoided eye contact, preferring solitude.

Sensing Harry’s struggle, Ginny kindly offered to assist him with his meal.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered, feeling embarrassed. He straightened up with determination in his eyes, despite his weakening body that had grown progressively unresponsive to movement or other stimuli.

Ginny gave him a sad smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly, scooping up some egg to feed him. “Don’t worry.”

Mrs. Weasley placed a vial of Nutrition potion in front of Harry, anticipating he would need the nourishment after eating. He eyed it reluctantly, as his appetite had become frustratingly erratic. Though he craved the satisfaction of a full stomach, more often than not his exhaustion typically prevailed.

Hermione, sensing Harry’s discomfort, had struck up a conversation with Mr. Weasley, drawing the rest of the Weasleys’ attention and giving Harry some relief.

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“Mr. Weasley, do you think the Minister would be able to visit the Burrow?” she inquired.

Surprised, Mr. Weasley quickly swallowed his drink before responding, “Yes, why do you ask?”

“Harry would like to speak with him about the Malfoys,” Hermione explained.

Mr. Weasley turned to Harry and asked gently, “Harry, if you don’t mind me asking, do you plan to testify on their behalf?”

But Harry, his head in his hand, seemed not to hear.

“Harry?” Hermione called softly.

Harry looked up, confusion in his eyes. “Yes?”

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, worried. “You seem distracted. Mr. Weasley asked you a question.”

“Sorry, what?” Harry whispered. “Who’s Mr. Weasley?”

The Weasleys exchanged bewildered looks.

Hermione stared at him in shock. “Harry, what—”

“That would be me, Harry,” Mr. Weasley said, cutting off Hermione and giving Harry a sad smile.

“I’m sorry,” Harry muttered hastily under his breath. “What was your question, sir?”

At the mention of “sir”, Ron raised his eyebrows in surprise. Likewise, everyone else looked at Harry strangely.

“I was just asking if you planned to testify against the Malfoys,” Mr. Weasley said.

Harry paused, deep in thought. Testify against the Malfoys? At a loss for words, he felt nervous being put on the spot. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, flickered his eyes, and spoke hoarsely, “It’s actually the contrary.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley nearly fell from their seats in surprise.

“Really?” asked Mr. Weasley curiously, looking interested at this surprising turn in the conversation. “I’m sorry, Harry, but it’s hard to believe someone like you would help the Malfoys. I’m sure Kingsley would consider what you say, but why the sudden desire to aid them?” Unable to stop himself, he added in a hushed voice, “Draco didn’t blackmail you, did he?”

“No, Mr. Weasley,” Harry replied quickly. “I want to help because I owe Narcissa Malfoy a debt. She saved my life from Voldemort, you see.”

Scratching his bald head, Mr. Weasley looked startled. “She saved you? How? Forgive me, but I find it difficult to believe a Malfoy would save anyone but their own.”

Before he could stop himself, Ron blurted out, “Believe me, dad, we all know what you mean.”

“Please, dear, do go on and tell us everything that happened,” Mrs. Weasley urged Harry.

As Harry recounted the story, he paused occasionally to cough or sip water from his glass. When he finally concluded, Mr. Weasley sat with arms folded, lost in contemplation. Before Mr. Weasley could respond, Harry added, “Draco owed me a favor and suggested where we might find the wild Thestrals.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Ron said at once. “I already sent Hagrid a letter last night asking if Malfoy was telling the truth or just bluffing.”

Harry nodded gratefully at Ron.

“Mr. Weasley, you said Kingsley is actually planning to come here,” Hermione said. “May I ask why?”

“Ah,” Mr. Weasley mused. “Kingsley wants to personally give Harry the piece of stone from the Veil and perhaps have a chat as well… I don’t know anything more,” he added quickly, seeing Hermione open her mouth. He turned to Harry, brow furrowed with concern. “You wouldn’t mind, would you, Harry?”

Harry shook his head.

“Excellent. I’ll let Kingsley know when I’m back at work,” Mr. Weasley said, picking up his fork. The rest followed suit.

Just as Harry finished eating, the fireplace suddenly erupted in flames, revealing a smiling Percy Weasley. His family jumped up from their seats, startled by his unexpected arrival.

“Percy!”

Mrs. Weasley rushed over and enveloped her son in a smothering hug. She quickly released him to look him over, fretting, “Are you eating properly, dear? I’ve missed you so!”

Right behind his wife, Mr. Weasley also came over to embrace his son. “How are you, son?” he asked warmly.

While hugging his parents, Percy noticed Harry at the table. Though pleased to see him, Percy immediately worried about Harry’s sickly appearance. Even from across the room, Harry’s deteriorating health was apparent. His thin frame swam in an oversized shirt, and his pale complexion suggested he hadn’t seen sunlight in weeks. When Percy finished hugging his parents, he sighed with concern. He knew Harry was the reason for his visit and wanted to see for himself how the boy was faring. Percy was dismayed to find Harry looking so frail and weak.

Harry’s usually low, hoarse voice took Percy by surprise when he asked, “How are you, Percy?” Percy winced at the sound but nevertheless smiled through his alarm and concern.

“Is the Ministry treating you well?” Ron asked, interjecting into the conversation.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Percy replied as Mr. Weasley motioned for him to sit down while Mrs. Weasley piled a heap of food onto his plate. “To answer your question, Harry, I’ve been doing quite well lately, although I must admit the recent turn of events has kept me extremely preoccupied. Death Eaters have breached multiple Floo Network fireplaces across different regions, so we’re closely monitoring for any suspicious activity.”

“Death Eaters are breaching fireplaces?” Ron asked in alarm.

“They’re everywhere, Ron—on the run and in hiding. Yet some still have the nerve to violate Ministry property, carrying out attacks. And there’s been an uproar at the Ministry about you, Harry. People want to see the boy who defeated the Dark Lord.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard,” said Ron, eyebrows raised at Percy’s use of “Dark Lord” rather than “You-Know-Who.”

“People want to see the boy who defeated the Dark Lord.” Harry said in a peculiar voice.

“Yes, that’s what I said,” Percy responded, raising his eyebrows at Harry’s strange manner.

When Harry further inquired, “Why? What happened to the boy?” Percy was unable to follow.

An awkward pause filled the air as Percy uncertainly gazed at Harry, then shot the rest of the Weasleys a look as if asking them to explain Harry’s odd behavior.

Before anyone could respond, Harry spoke again, his voice now calm: “Once they see me like this, I doubt they’ll even recognize me, let alone show me any sympathy.”

His friends’ faces filled with concern as they took in his words.

“You can’t let anyone see you, Harry,” Hermione said anxiously. “If the Death Eaters discover how sick and vulnerable you are, they’ll be desperate for revenge against the one who defeated You-Know-Who. It’s too dangerous.”

“I know, Hermione,” Harry said coldly, closing his eyes and rubbing his temple. “It would be easy for them to kill me since I’m already dying.”

All heads turned towards Harry at his ominous words.

Looking affronted, Hermione bit her lip. “Don’t say that, Harry.”

“We just need to be careful who we confide in,” Mr. Weasley said gently. “We know how to get the cure, and before long, Harry will be back on track.”

Harry gave a small, sad smile as a twinge of despair gripped his heart. Discussing potential solutions only deepened his sense of hopelessness about his declining health. The unknowns surrounding his prognosis cast gloom over his future. Weary of his grim circumstances, he wished to remain ignorant of what lay ahead, thinking despondently, I have no future.

Percy tried to keep his family updated with brief conversations about what had transpired at the Ministry, but Harry refused to join in. He rested his head in his hand, closed his eyes, and tuned them out whenever the subject turned to him.

“Harry, how was life here for you?” Percy repeated when met with silence.

“Uh...” Harry lowered his hand and forced his heavy eyelids open to meet Percy’s gaze, too weary to converse further. “It was great, thanks Percy.”

Ginny grabbed the vial of Nutrition potion and the ignored Healing potion her mother had left on the table. She urged Harry to drink them. After much coaxing, he finally relented and let Ginny help pour the potions into his mouth.

“Do you want to rest, Harry?” Mrs. Weasley asked when he closed his eyes again. “You can sleep on the sofa.” Harry nodded and slowly stood up.

Ron helped him walk, but they only made it to the living room before Harry’s knees buckled and he collapsed. Ron and his father carried Harry to the sofa where, after mumbling his thanks, he immediately fell asleep.

“Is he really dying?” Percy asked Mrs. Weasley in a hushed voice, his eyes downcast.

Mrs. Weasley gazed at him mournfully. “We don’t want to believe it, but I’m afraid so.”

Percy looked stunned. “But he seemed alright when I last saw him at the Battle of Hogwarts. What happened?”

“He was fine then,” Ginny said softly, her eyes glistening. “It wasn’t until You-Know-Who destroyed the fragment of his soul inside Harry that it started.”

Percy did a double take, perplexed. “You-Know-Who’s soul? What are you talking about, Ginny?”

It was Hermione who explained Harry’s plight to Percy, taking care to omit any mention of Horcruxes. When she finished, Percy looked solemn and at a loss for words.

“Now we just need those last two ingredients,” Ginny added anxiously, “and then we can begin healing Harry. I hope Hagrid and Kingsley arrive soon… we’re losing Harry with each passing moment.”

“Did Dad speak with the Minister?” Percy inquired.

“Yes,” Ginny confirmed. “I believe he intends to bring the stone fragment here to Harry himself.”

Percy nodded to show he understood. “Earlier, Harry seemed unable to recognize himself when I said his name. What was that about?” Ginny fidgeted uncomfortably in her seat as Ron and Hermione exchanged worried looks.

“Harry’s memories are confusing him somehow,” Hermione said, her voice breaking a little. “There was a time he couldn’t remember anything at all… and other times, like today, when—well...” She trailed off, unsure how to continue.

“It’s like there’s an on and off switch,” Ron added grimly.

Ginny gazed miserably at Harry’s sleeping form, her eyes brimming with tears. “Seeing him like this is heartbreaking,” she said. “Not knowing who he is or recognizing his friends... I couldn’t bear it if one day he couldn’t remember me or our relationship.”

Hermione hugged Ginny comfortingly, though her own tears threatened to spill. She took a deep breath. “He’ll be okay,” she said. “We’ll get through this together, you’ll see.”

A gentle tap on the kitchen window drew their attention to Pigwidgeon perched outside, a scroll tied to his leg. “It must be from Hagrid!” Ron cried, rushing to open the window and let the owl in. He carefully untied the parchment, unrolled it, and read aloud as Hermione and Ginny gathered around.

Ron,

I got the Thestral’s tail hair but I am badly injured. Death Eaters attacked me. I am being treated at St. Mungo’s Hospital right now.

Hagrid

The three of them looked at each other in shock before rushing back to the table. They sat down so abruptly that Percy nearly spilled his tea, causing Mrs. Weasley, who was clearing the plates with her wand, to gasp sharply.

“Was Hagrid attacked in Ireland?” Ron asked, panic-stricken.

Looking horrified, Hermione said, “But nobody else could have known—”

Mrs. Weasley stopped cleaning the table to read Hagrid’s letter that Ron handed her. “Oh my...” she said after finishing it.

Hermione’s voice trembled with fear as she said, “I never imagined Hagrid would fall victim to a Death Eater ambush. If anything, wild beasts seemed the greater threat.”

Ginny spoke up, her tone hushed. “Even so, how did the Death Eaters know to find Hagrid there?”

“Death Eaters lurk everywhere now,” Ron reminded them grimly. “Like Percy warned, they’re fugitives on the run.”

“That’s beside the point!” Hermione said shrilly. “Death Eaters are in hiding, yet they were in that very cave with the wild Thestrals? Hiding where dangerous creatures gather is suicidal. No,” she said flatly, slamming her palm on the table, “it was no coincidence. It’s so frustrating not having the answers!”

Ginny’s voice grew frantic. “But our plan is secret. No one knows Hagrid will check that Irish cave.”

“There is one,” Ron said, his eyes blazing with anger. “Draco Malfoy.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Percy asked, shock evident on his face. In the next moment, his eyes glinted wickedly.

Ron nodded, though he was slightly taken aback by the malice smoldering in Percy’s expression.

Jutting his chin forward, Percy demanded, “How did he know about this?”

“Before dad went home, Malfoy asked if he could talk to Harry,” Ginny explained. “He came here and told Harry where to find the wild thestrals.”

“Is that so?” Percy mused, hand on chin, as though pondering something.

“Harry said he was being truthful,” Hermione argued swiftly. “He can’t betray Harry after claiming Malfoy owed him a life debt for saving him, and that he only came here to repay it. He’s unlikely to be the traitor.”

“Who else knows about the cave except You-Know-Who?” countered Ron. “Malfoy’s the only other one privy to its location, unless you can think of someone else.”

Hermione sighed in disbelief. “It seems highly improbable that Malfoy would do something so crucial for Harry, only to ruin it later.”

“Who cares what Malfoy thinks he’s doing!” Ron snarled, his face reddening. “He’s a Death Eater, and they’ll always be loyal to their cause, even if they owe you a life debt. You can’t trust a Death Eater, no matter the situation.”

“It doesn’t add up,” said Hermione, her forehead creasing in frustration. “I thought the Malfoys wanted to switch sides and restore their family name. Could they have been lying this whole time?”

“Of course they were lying, Hermione,” Ron replied bitterly. “Deceit is second nature to them.”

“Let’s go visit Hagrid and get the full story,” Ginny suggested, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“I’m going to stay here for a while with Mum and Dad.” Percy informed them. Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulders gratefully as Percy added, “I can keep an eye on Harry too while you visit Hagrid.”

Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, then stood up quickly to get ready to leave.

To be continued...