Draco tried to quell his anxiety as they officially entered the Forbidden Forest. Anytime he’d been in the forest, it had not been a good experience. Not to mention, this trek was for him to retrieve the Sword of Ravenclaw, but what if he couldn’t do it? What if it was all wrong and he wasn’t a hero? What if he was actually the terrible person he’d been for the last five years? What if he was just like Lucius?

His heart sped up when the invisibility cloak he’d borrowed from Potter tugged suddenly, threatening to slip off. He spun sharply in his panic to see what was attacking him only to find a little bush that had caught the edge of the cloak. He huffed at himself, frustrated and embarrassed about his obviously ridiculous panic. He pulled at the fabric to release the bush’s hold and continued following Snape deeper into the forest.

“You can remove the cloak now,” Snape said, pausing the both of them.

Draco hesitated, looking around. He couldn’t see where they’d entered, where, to anyone watching, it had looked like Snape was off on his own to gather potions ingredients. Eventually, he sighed and pulled the cloak off, bunching it in his hands.

“The clearing is just up ahead, but we have to deal with the centaurs first,” Snape said.

“Centaurs that hate humans,” Draco said pointedly.

“Centaurs that hate Dumbledore,” Snape corrected and he held out his hand.

Draco handed over the cloak, watching as it was shrunk and tucked into one of Snape’s deep robe pockets. The man gestured for them to continue and they did, going deeper and deeper until they climbed over a hill into a surprisingly familiar clearing. He remembered this place, remembered the thing drinking the dead unicorn and coming after them, after Potter. He’d run then, a cowardly child put in his place. Only, his memory wasn’t completely true. It hadn’t been a thing, an inhuman monster that had attacked them. No, it had been Dumbledore creating an illusion and then attacking them.

He frowned at himself, hating how much he didn’t know. What was real?

“What business do wizards have here?”

Draco’s head flew up at the voice, finding a familiar centaur had approached them.

“Firenze,” Snape said, bowing his head. “You were welcomed back to your clan?”

“I was never banished,” Firenze said. “A ploy to fool Dumbledore, to allow centaur eyes inside the school and on the heroes.”

The centaur’s dark eyes slid to Draco who did his best not to tense, fighting through the ‘lessons’ on ‘half-breeds’ from his father.

“Firenze?” another voice called out and a second centaur stepped up beside Firenze, this one much larger, clearly the leader. His eyes slid over both Snape and Draco as well, scrutinizing them, before bowing his head, a hand going over his heart. “Heroes. We have been waiting for many cycles of the seasons.”

“It seems things must always become worse before they can get better,” Snape said.

“Indeed,” the second centaur said.

“The nature of the universe,” Firenze said, “of fate.”

“You allowed Dumbledore into the mausoleum with a sword,” Snape said. “Why?”

Draco looked at the centaurs, curious. It didn’t seem like they’d been under the Mind Magic like the school, so why had they seemingly helped the headmaster?

“The stars told us what to do,” Firenze said. “They told us the plight of Hogwarts, the fight that would one day take place here.”

“We allowed a sword into the mausoleum to keep it close,” the leader said. “Had we not, there is no telling where it may have ended up.”

“We give you our deepest gratitude for your assistance in this matter, a matter we were unaware of for all this time,” Snape said.

“Thank you, Master Snape,” the lead centaur said, placing a palm over his chest once again.

“Are you ready, Master Malfoy?” Firenze asked, turning to Draco.

Draco looked at him, startled.

“Your trial awaits, young hero,” the second centaur said, slowly swinging an arm and turning to gesture behind them.

Draco hesitated, glancing at Snape as nerves and doubt flooded him. He was startled again when Snape reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder, high enough to cup the side of his neck. It made him think of all the things he didn’t remember, brought forth the few memories he’d gained through Legilimency. Something existed between him, Snape, and Potter, something they remembered but he didn’t. Whatever it was, was in Snape’s touch and eyes now, and he wished he could read it.

“We will be waiting for you,” Snape said in a tone Draco had never heard from anyone before. “You can do this.”

Something about the man and his words and his tone caused a wash of confidence to flow through him. He nodded, feeling he’d received that smile and squeeze to his neck many times before. He wanted to remember those times. Snape pulled away and stepped back, allowing Draco to turn to the centaurs once more.

Firenze and the other nodded at him and turned, beginning to walk over the small hill. With a deep breath, Draco followed, stepping over rocks and roots. Climbing over the hill, he paused at the sight he found.

It was another clearing, a tiny glade tucked amongst a border of hills and trees. Directly in front of him stood two huge trees parallel to each other, their branches curved and tangled in a makeshift archway. Through the archway sat a curtain of vines, blocking whatever lay on the other side. The centaurs had come to stand on either side of the archway and were facing him, waiting.

He chewed his lip and walked carefully down the other side of the small hill, ensuring he didn’t trip. He crossed the glade, coming to a stop between the centaurs, staring at the curtain of vines, just slightly swaying in the night air. Both centaurs reached out and parted the vines, revealing a dark tunnel.

Taking another deep breath and wiping his hands nervously on his trousers, Draco ducked through the vines and into the tunnel. He jumped at the rustling and darkness he found himself in, spinning around to see the vines had returned to their place of coverage. The tunnel was quiet and he pulled his wand.

“Lumos,” he whispered.

With his wand lit, he slowly looked around. The tunnel seemed to be made of wood as though it were a hollowed-out tree trunk. Moss and fungi were growing on the wood, and the ground beneath his feet was spongey with moss and soft dirt. The tunnel didn’t appear to be too long, another curtain of leafy vines a few meters in front of him. Through them, he could see tiny slivers of a soft orange light, making him tilt his head curiously.

He passed through the tunnel slowly, still hesitant, and parted the vines at the end. He stepped into a circular area made of tall, thick trees, their branches creating a dense canopy high above. Candles with soft orange flames floated around. In front of him stood a large, square building of shining white and grey marble. There was a bronze door with a lion, snake, eagle, and badger engraved on it, entangled with each other. Above the door sat the Hogwarts crest and, on either side of the door, the vintage-style cameos of two men and two women, obviously the Founders.

He approached the mausoleum, feeling the magic that encompassed the place. The power made him hesitate again, worry and doubt filling him. Surely he wasn’t worthy of this task.

You can do this, Snape’s words echoed in his head.

He grasped the bronze handle and felt the magic brush over him, tingling under his palm. He pulled and, with a groan, the heavy door slowly opened. The door swinging open revealed a marble staircase descending underground.

He slowly walked down the stairs, his wand light making the marble gleam. At the bottom, he found himself in a fairly large room made of the same marble. In the center was a huge stone statue replicating the engraving from the door of the four House mascots entangled. The lion stood on all four legs, its head turned to its back and its tail up. The snake was wrapped around the lion’s body and stretched up into the air not far from the lion’s face. Standing on its hindlegs on the back end of the lion was the badger, its front paws against the snake. Its talons just barely touching the badger’s back, the eagle had its wings spread and beak millimeters from the snake’s open jaws.

On the left side of the room sat statues of Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor while the right held Helga Hufflepuff and Rowena Ravenclaw. Slytherin and Gryffindor had brooches depicting their familiar on their shoulders, clasping their stone cloaks and each made of pure emerald and ruby respectively. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw wore necklaces with a badger and an eagle made of glittering gold and sapphire.

Knowing he was there for the Sword of Ravenclaw, Draco stepped up to her statue. Instinctively, he raised a hand and pressed two fingers to her sapphire eagle. It glowed under his touch and the statue sunk into the floor, revealing another chamber. As he walked through, Ravenclaw’s statue returned to her place, sealing him in her chamber.

This room was smaller with thick bands wrapping around the walls, blue and silver twisted together and sparkling. In the center, on a floor of blue and silver concentric circles, sat a huge statue of an eagle. Its feet were on the floor and its wings spread wide, feathers curled inwards at the long stone table that sat before it. On the stone slab sat two basins filled with shimmering, swirling blue liquid.

Draco jumped slightly when a translucent figure that shimmered at the edges stepped out from behind the eagle. She stood beside the pedestal and gazed at him, hands laced before her.

“Possible hero,” Ravenclaw said. “Step forward if you dare to attempt the trial of Rowena Ravenclaw.”

Draco felt the urge to turn and run, nearly convinced Hogwarts had made a mistake. He couldn’t fathom how he was a hero meant to help save Hogwarts and the wizarding world. Yet, as he replayed Snape’s conviction in his head again, he stepped forward, up to the podium with its basins. He looked up at Ravenclaw.

“Do you hold the title of Hero of Hogwarts?”

“Yes.”

“Do you intend to claim the Sword of Ravenclaw?”

“Yes.”

“Find your truth and discover who you are to prove you are worthy of my sword and the title of hero.”

Draco watched, startled, as a shimmery white mist floated out of the basins and created a swirling cloud in the air between. It morphed, taking shape, until he was looking at a misty copy of himself. He frowned.

“Who are you?”

Draco looked at Ravenclaw, confused by her question. “Draco Malfoy.”

“That is your name, but not who you are,” Ravenclaw said. “Who are you?”

Draco looked at his smoky twin, eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly.

“In a world where you have been told what to be, who do you want to be?” Ravenclaw asked and waved her hands towards the basins.

Draco looked into the one on the left and found it flashing through memories. All the moments he obeyed his father, spouted blood purity ideas, insulted others, and harmed people played before him, showing him the life he’d led as Malfoy. With or without Mind Magic, he’d done those things, said those awful insults, and hurt people just because he could. His name had made him untouchable and he’d easily carried on all Lucius believed, allowed himself to believe such things and even encourage them.

“To decide, you must see the truth,” Ravenclaw said.

“What truth? I don’t know anything else,” Draco said. “This is all I know.”

“See your truth,” Ravenclaw said and she gestured at the other basin.

Draco turned his attention to the right-hand basin, finding more memories playing. Only, these ones, he didn’t remember. He watched as Lucius beat and cursed a younger him, making him repeat terrible things until he no longer stumbled over the words. He watched flashes of him interacting with Potter, Weasley, Granger, and several others, all of them smiling and laughing. He watched flashes of him with Snape, smiles and embraces.

“Who do you want to be?” Ravenclaw repeated.

“I…I don’t know,” Draco said shakily, looking at his misty form again. “I don’t know who I am without my father, without his lessons. What if that is who I am?”

“That is only who you are if it is what you choose,” Ravenclaw said.

“But I don’t know how to be anything else!” Draco said loudly. “I have nothing—I am nothing—if I’m not that!”

“No?” Ravenclaw said and she waved her hand again. From the second basin rose a translucent image of him and Potter fast asleep on a sofa against each other, Snape watching them from a doorway with what could only be described as a fond expression. “Why deny yourself this?”

“Because I don’t deserve it!” Draco said, looking away from the image. His eyes fell on the other basin where an image of him standing with his father, both of them sneering and looking so much alike, sat on the surface. “I’m no different than him. He made me like this. I can’t be better than him.”

“We can all be more than what we are taught, more than we are expected to be,” Ravenclaw said. “One simply needs to learn who they are…discover your truth.”

“How?” Draco said, his voice breaking.

“Life is experiences that make us who we are,” Ravenclaw said. “Understand what has brought you to this moment and decide…where do you go from here?”

Draco watched as the image of him and his father floated above the left basin. His eyes flickered between it and the image of him, Potter, and Snape.

“How do I know when I don’t remember?” Draco asked.

“In your heart, you know the truth,” Ravenclaw said.

Draco could feel himself being pulled towards both lives, the one he knew and the one he wanted. He just couldn’t see how the life on the right could be his. Everything the Draco on the left had done, said, believed, gone through…how could he be worthy of being a hero or having a family? Even in his game, Dumbledore saw him as nothing more than a lost cause, a failure destined for darkness.

“Who do you want to be?” Ravenclaw asked.

“Nothing that I can be,” Draco said, feeling tears sting his eyes. “Everything is wrong. This isn’t me, it can’t be.”

“We become who we want to be by accepting who we are,” Ravenclaw said. “Who are you?”

Draco looked at her, frowning at the strange pressure he was beginning to feel in his chest. He moved his eyes to the image of him and his father.

“Everything about me was made by him. All those…lessons,” Draco said, staring hard at his haughty father. “It’s all I’ve ever known, but…”

He trailed off then and his gaze travelled over to the image of him, Potter, and Snape. The pressure in his chest grew as he looked closely at the expression on Snape’s face.

“It’s not all I know,” he said, almost in realization. “I just don’t remember. Lucius was wrong, but I’ve hidden behind him because I’m afraid. Afraid of having that, but losing it…not deserving it.”

He reached out to the image on the right, wishing it was real, but…maybe it was.

“Lucius made me who he wanted me to be, but they...” he looked at Potter and Snape, “they helped me find out who I am.”

“Who are you?” Ravenclaw said.

Draco looked at the misty copy of himself. “A hero. A friend. A brother. A son.”

“Who do you want to be?”

“Me.”

The images and smoky copy dissipated, and the blue and silver bands in the walls and floor glowed brightly, filling the room with a blinding, glittering light. Draco shielded his eyes, opening them when he felt a rush of power disturb the air around him. The basins had disappeared from the stone slab, a shining silver sword in their place.

“You have found your truth,” Ravenclaw said. “Come, Hero of Hogwarts. Claim your prize and take back what’s been lost.”

She swept her hand over the sword, encouraging him to take it. Draco stared, taking in the magnificent details. The blade was long, thin, and so shiny it was like a mirror. The name ‘Rowena Ravenclaw’ was etched into the silver steel in a delicate, flowy script. The hilt was an eagle. Its talons were curled, holding the blade to the hilt. Its feather body was intricate, tiny threads of sapphire adding detail to each feather. Its wings were spread, creating the cross of the hilt, while the head created the end, glittering sapphires the eagle’s eyes.

It was beautiful, awe-inspiring.

Was it truly for him?

“Those who love us decide if we are worthy,” Ravenclaw said. “Yours will hold your truth for you when you fall into doubt.”

The pressure in his chest released into a flood of emotion, a wave of life. He reached out and grabbed the sword. Power whipped around him again as he watched his stolen life.

Eleven-year-old Draco grinned as he levitated the wad of parchment and sent it zipping through the air down the table to peg Harry in the side of the head.

“Oi!” Harry cried, eyes instantly meeting Draco’s.

Draco snickered and quickly sent another ball of parchment, this time hitting Ron in the nose.

“Hey!” Ron shouted.

Draco ducked as parchment balls came flying at him in retaliation, all of them laughing loudly as their parchment war took off.

*

Eleven-year-old Draco glanced over at Harry who was browsing the shelf of books. He remembered the conversation he’d overheard and reached out, pulling down a book a shelf above where Harry was looking. He handed it to the Gryffindor who looked at it and him surprised.

“If you’re looking for Nicholas Flamel, you’ll find him in here,” Draco said, pointing to the book. “But it’s simple. He’s the most famous alchemist of all time. Why are you looking for him?”

“We need to know about the philosopher’s stone,” Harry said.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“Because it’s here in the school and Voldemort’s after it,” Harry said.

Draco blinked. “You’re serious?”

Harry nodded.

“Can I help?”

*

Twelve-year-old Draco twisted his hands together and kept his head down as Snape covered his back with a balm, trying not to think about the marks marring his skin. After a few minutes, the professor finished and turned him around.

“I will do what I can to help you,” Snape said.

Draco looked up at him. “Why?”

“Because no child deserves this.”

*

Twelve-year-old Draco groaned as he climbed out of the hospital bed, still feeling a dull ache and nausea from his accident during the match. He crossed the infirmary to the one other occupied bed.

“Harry, are you alright?” he asked.

Harry rolled his head on the pillow to look at him. The Gryffindor glanced at his bandaged arm with a grimace.

“Lockhart’s a bloody idiot,” Harry said, “but, yeah, I’m okay. You?”

Draco smiled and nodded. “Crazy match.”

Harry chuckled. “Because of your crazy elf.”

“He’s obsessed with you, not me,” Draco pointed out and they laughed.

*

Thirteen-year-old Draco jumped up from his seat as he spotted the falling figure through the icy rain. His eyes widened and his heart pounded with fear as Harry continued falling and the Dementors continued swarming him.

He swung around to look at the teachers’ stand and found Severus also on his feet, watching the plummeting Gryffindor. The dark eyes found his and they exchanged terror just as Dumbledore finally stood and reacted.

“Harry!” Draco cried, praying the boy would be okay.

*

“I hear her,” Harry was telling them. “I hear my mother.”

Draco looked at Severus sadly, seeing the pain Harry was feeling reflected in the man’s face. He moved his eyes back to Harry who was staring into the crackling fire. He didn’t know what to say. There was a lot they understood about each other, but this wasn’t one of them. He could never understand how they felt with this.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly and leaned more heavily against Harry.

Harry turned to him and gave him a tiny smile before also leaning more heavily and letting their heads rest against each other.

They all gazed into the fire, letting it and each other chase away their despair.  

*

“Severus is going to kill you,” Draco said as they sat on the dock, staring out at the Black Lake. “The gillyweed.”

“I didn’t steal it, Dobby did,” Harry argued and Draco chuckled.

“He’s still going to kill you,” Draco said.

“Honestly, I think he will no matter what after the tournament’s over, everything I’ve had to do and all,” Harry said.

Draco laughed again.

“I think the merpeople got it wrong,” Harry said after some silence. “Ron’s not the one they should have taken.”

Draco looked at him with a slight frown of confusion.

“He’s my best friend, sure,” Harry said, “but you’re my brother.”

Tears immediately flooded Draco’s eyes as they stared at each other before turning back to the lake and leaning against each other.

*

“I can’t go back! I can’t! Not now he’s back!” Draco cried, pacing and pulling at his hair.

“You’ll be okay, Draco,” Harry said from the sofa.

Draco shook his head. “No, no, Lucius, he’ll…he’s going to…I…I can’t!”

“Draco…” Severus said quietly.

“Please, please, don’t make me go back,” Draco pleaded, stopping his pacing and looking at Severus with teary eyes. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be that…”

Severus reached out and put his hands on Draco’s shoulders, cupping his neck. “If I could keep you from him, I would, no hesitation. I would keep the both of you here where you could be safe and taken care of and loved as you deserve.”

Draco raised his hands to grasp Severus’ forearms, tears falling from his eyes. “He’s going to make me like him.”

“You are not him,” Severus said. “You are you.”

“Who am I?” Draco whispered.

“My son.”