Chapter Four -

   Schism

   Draco Malfoy ran through the driving rain as fast as his shaking legs would take him.  A ferocious storm crashed about his head as he turned down the dilapidated road and pelted towards the rather foreboding doorway of the house at the very end of the street.  The terraced houses loomed in the November night; barely a light was on and the shadows danced and leapt about the place as lightening pierced the sky.  Chest numb and gulping down air, Draco practically fell on the wooden door frame and began pounding on it with vigour.  He didn’t even pause as the door was heaved open; only on catching sight of the occupier did the distraught boy take a step back, out once more into the rain.  He shielded his eyes from the glare of the lamplight, having been wrapped in the night time for so long. 

   “Draco Malfoy?” came the voice from inside.  “What, may I ask, are you doing here?”

   Draco stumbled back a pace and grabbed onto his wreck of a satchel slung about his neck.  “Professor…please, I-I don’t know what to do - please…help me.”

   Severus Snape stepped out from his rather poorly furnished landing and onto the porch.  He folded his arms.  Draco was shivering, but he did not invite him in just yet.  “Help you how, Mr Malfoy?”

   Draco looked up at him through licks of painfully blond hair plastered to his face and clutched at his ragged bag.  His trousers were sodden with mud and his cloak had caught at one end, making it fray badly.  “They…killed her,” he stammered.  Snape might not have heard the boy as a tumultuous crash of thunder shook the sky above them, but seeing as he had a good idea of the answer to his question before he had even asked it, he did not ask Draco to repeat himself. 

   “Your mother died in the service of our Lord,” said Snape curtly, “how can I help you with that?”

   “She was murdered!” screamed Draco, “she - she was just - an example - he obliterated her right in front of my father and he did nothing!”

   “Sometimes the Dark Lord works in ways we find hard to comprehend, Draco, it is not wise to question him-”

   “But you do!” cried the boy.  “I’ve heard - whispers - of a resistance, people working within the ranks to bring him down!”

   “I wouldn’t make such bold claims if I were you, young Mr Malfoy,” said Snape icily, “it will land you in serious trouble.”

   Draco tore his hands through his tangled hair.  “I have been on the run for four days!” he shouted, “my mother has been murdered, I want revenge, I want to join Freiheit!  Now are you going to help me or not?”  Snape took a slow in take of breath. 

   “What makes you think I have anything to do with this Freiheit?”

   “I know you and my mother were close,” said Draco, calming slightly, “and some of things she said…I don’t know - I…I just feel she was trying to tell me something.  Please professor…please help me, I’m begging you.”

   Snape let his eyes fall to the wooden floor for a moment.  “We were close,” he said quietly.  There was a pause as he thought, and Draco stared intently at him, rain running off his features in torrents.  The older man looked up, his eyes glossy.  “I think you should come in Draco.” 

***

   Snape let Draco sit whilst he made a pot full of steaming tea.  From the kitchen, he could just keep an eye on his former pupil.  He sat, almost catatonic, shivering by the fireplace in a blanket Snape had fetched for him.  Wordlessly, Snape re-entered the living room and poured them tea.  Draco, likewise, took it without a word.  They sat in silence for a minute or so before Snape spoke first. 

   “You’re sixteen now aren’t you Draco?”

   He took a mouthful of tea.  “Not till December,” said the boy. 

   “That means you don’t have the mark yet then?”

   Draco laughed ruefully and yanked his sleeve up.  “Of course I do,” he said, “my father insisted.”  Snape eyed his bare flesh carefully.  Next to the tattoo of a black skull and snake were a series of scars, slashes running the length of his arm. 

   “Where did those come from?” he asked.

   Draco snatched his jacket back down again.  “I…was very upset…angry after that incident at Hogwarts two years ago, I thought…I wanted to punish myself for what I’d done, what my father made me do…” he trailed off, looking slightly disconcerted by what he had just said. 

   “Mother’s maiden name?”

   “Pardon?”

    “Mother’s…maiden name,” repeated Snape. 

   Draco looked somewhat confused by this, but before he could think he answered.  “Black.”

   “What colour underwear are you wearing?”

   “Pink.”  Draco seemed to snap out of some kind of a trance and looked mortified.  Snape couldn’t help but smile a little. 

   “Sorry about that Mr Malfoy,” he said, “I slipped some Veritaserum into the tea - I just wanted to check it was working.  Ordinarily I would rely on my Occlumency skills, but I know you’ve been making extraordinary progress on that with your aunt.”

   “Right,” said Draco somewhat sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head.  “I suppose you want me to tell you the truth?”

   “Exactly,” said his former professor.  Draco took a breath, calmer than he had been on the porch. 

   “I want to change alliances.  I’m not going to follow a blatant madman who murders people for no reason.  I’m not going to follow my father’s instructions anymore.  I’m just your average rat and this boat is sinking.”  He thought a moment, a dark look in his eyes, and then added; “I want to make them pay, I want to take everything away from them…just like they took everything away from me.  I heard - I mean, I gathered from my mother - that you were the leader of Freiheit.  I want to help…I’ll do anything.  If you’re not, well then just kill me now…I really don’t care anymore.”

   He let his words hang in the air a while, before finally looking at his potion master.  Snape looked directly back at him, then leant over and took Draco’s mug of spiked tea.  He swallowed a good three mouthfuls, before placing the mug back on the table and waited another few moments.  “I am the leader of Freiheit, Draco.  I accept your pledge to our cause.”

   Draco blew out a sigh of relief and dropped his head into his hands.  “Thank God,” he said simply. 

   The moment hung between the two for a while; Draco’s breathing steadied as he stared into the fire, his mind wondering.  Snape held his clasped hands under his lip as he thought. 

   “This is no light obligation you take on you shoulders Draco,” he said after a while longer.  “People have died, good people, and not in the nicest of ways.  You risk everything by aligning yourself with us.”

   “I already told you I have nothing.”  The boy kept his gaze determinedly on the flames in the mantle.  Severus Snape allowed himself the smallest of smiles once more. 

   “Enough of this tampered tea, lets get you something decent to drink,” he said as he rose to his feet, clearing cups and saucers from the table.  “A meal probably wouldn’t go amiss either.”

   Draco swallowed.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  He wasn’t sure exactly how much he’d be able to eat, but he most likely needed to; he was feeling more than a little faint. 

   “You really couldn’t have picked a better time to join us, from my point of view,” said Snape as he moved about the kitchen.  “Are you aware that there is a scheme in place, one which will restore the Dark Lord’s power?”

   Draco nodded his head.  “It’s only a week or so away,” he said, “well…that’s what…what my mother said anyway.”  He bit his lip and looked to the floor. 

   Snape pulled a loaf of bread out of a cupboard, flicked his wand, and let the sandwiches make themselves.  “The Dark Lord has Dumbledore’s mirror of Erised, I don’t know how, but he does.  He believes that from it he can retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone.”

   Draco took a moment for this to register, before finally turning and looking at his former professor.  Spots danced in front of his eyes where he’d been staring at the fire so long.  He raised his eyebrows.  “That’s…kind of intense.”  Snape nodded. 

   “The Dark Lord’s seers have been searching for a way to open the mirror and find the stone, but without success.”

   “Huh,” grunted Draco, “until now you mean.”

   “You know they’ve had a breakthrough?”  Draco nodded. 

   “Do you also know that it involves Harry Potter?” Once again Draco nodded.  “Good,” said Snape, “because, as your first duty to Freiheit, I am going to have to ask you to be our liaison to the boy.  You are going to have to go to his house and recruit him before Wormtail can get a hold of him.  We wanted someone his own age and you are, for want of a better word, perfect.”

   Draco looked sharply up.  “You want me to - to work with Potter?” He looked absolutely horrified. 

   Snape smiled properly as he gathered up the finished sandwiches.  “You said anything.”

***

      “Harry?”  Came Sarah’s broken voice from underneath the debris.  She shook the dust from her hair and pushed what remained of the table away from her.  “Harry?”  She tried again. 

   “Where is he!” screamed Bellatrix as the room’s occupants began to stir.  “Where did he go!”  Only Remus didn’t move, but stayed put on the floor. 

   “He’s gone Bella,” he said numbly, “he’s gone and you know it.”

   “No!” cried Ron as Sirius lunged for his cousin.

   “This is your fault!” he yelled, but she spun round and pointed her wand at him. 

   “Back off!” she screamed.  Draco watched on, trying to absorb all the information he could.  His aunt was obviously becoming hysterical with panic and confusion.  “He can’t be – the spell wasn’t that strong!”

   “But you hit Sirius’ jar of Burberry Essence, and you know how deadly that can be – oh Bella – what have you done?”

   “He’s going to kill you,” growled Sirius, “just like you killed Harry.”

   “You obliterated him,” cried Hermione, remarkably steady. 

   Bellatrix whirled round in terror.  “Just shut up – shut up all of you!”  Sarah had tears in her eyes, Tonks was standing by the door, her pink hair covered in dust.  She didn’t even notice when several Death Eaters stormed into the room until one of them grabbed her roughly by the arm. 

   “Seize them!” cried Bellatrix, “confiscate their wands and get them to the rendezvous point!”  She looked a little relieved to have back up, and as Draco took a final glace as they were frog-marched out of the house he saw her taking comfort from another male Death Eater. 

   “He can’t be dead,” said Ron as they were lined up outside.  Draco was distressed by how much it looked like a firing line.  No one took out their wands however, instead they were all taken harshly by the arm to prepare for side-along apperation.  Draco had done this once or twice before and he wasn’t keen on the experience.  There was, however, more pressing things on his mind right now. 

   Within moments the rather large party was no longer standing on the grassy verge by Sirius’ house, but on a deserted city street, adjacent to a considerably more busy one.  A red double-decker bus went charging past.  “London,” murmured Draco.

   “Where are we?” asked Sarah, obviously scared. 

   “The Ministry,” said Ron, confused. 

   A vicious looking Death Eater looked down at the red head as they were marched towards an old red telephone box.  “Clever boy,” she said nastily.  “Take the older ones first,” she said to her fellow Death Eaters, “take them straight for interrogation, we’ll put these four in a safe place.”

   Tonks gulped as she, Remus and Sirius were herded into the box.  “Keep your mouths shut and your eyes open,” cried Remus to the students as the door snapped shut and the box began to lower to the ground.

   Hermione looked sick but determined.  Draco looked down at his feet and thought.  There had to be something he could do?  Sarah shifted her weight, but stopped fidgeting after a harsh look from one of the male Deatheaters.  Draco prayed someone would walk down the road, anyone, a muggle even, so they could scream and raise the alarm.  But no one came.  After a minute or so more, the phone box re-emerged, empty. 

   “Get in,” said one of the remaining Deatheaters callously, and shoved his wand into the small of Draco’s back.

   “Easy!” he couldn’t help but snap.  The Deatheater ignored him.  It was a tight squeeze, but they all fitted into the broken old box.  Draco didn’t listen as one of the hooded figures talked with the automated voice, his mind was whirring with thoughts on how they could escape, and as they lowered into the Ministry’s foyer, just how they had toppled the government?  His question was answered almost straight away though as he caught sight of several officials, frozen just as the students of Hogwarts had been. 

   “Take them to one of the offices on the second floor,” said the female Deatheater to the other two.  “Make sure the door is secure then come straight back to the main rendezvous point; the Dark Lord is not going to be pleased by Lestrange’s failure.”  They nodded and grabbed a student in each arm.  The party didn’t fight them.  They were entirely silent until they were thrown unceremoniously into the office for Goblin Reforms and Logistics on the second floor and the door slammed shut on them. 

   They all stared at the door for a moment, then Draco spoke.

   “Shit.”

   Sarah sunk into the blood red leather chair by the smoldering fire.  She looked at the balding ministry official sat opposite her, frozen, halfway between drinking a mug of now cold tea.  “I can’t believe it,” she murmured quietly, “I just can’t believe it.”

   “Harry’s…not really…dead is he?” stammered Ron to Hermione, but before she could speak another voice answered his question.

   “Of course not,” said Draco as he started to look in detail at the room they had found themselves in.  “Didn’t you see the explosion of Floo powder as he hit the mantelpiece?” 

   “You mean you did?” said Hermione surprised, “but - you played along with me and Remus so well?”

   “It was important to confuse Bellatrix as much as possible so she wouldn’t jump in and try and follow him,” explained Draco as he ran his hands along the walls, looking for flaws or anything else that might possibly help them escape.  “He may be lost but he’s almost certainly safe.”

   “Oh my God what a relief,” breathed Sarah.  “I knew he couldn’t really be dead.”

   “Yeah, well that’s more than I can say for us right now,” said Hermione as she joined Draco in his examination of the room.  His body stiffened at her presence and he refused to look at her.  Things were complicated enough without getting confused by some Hermione-who-wasn’t-Hermione right now. 

   “We need to get out of here,” he said simply.

   “More to the point,” added Ron, “we need to get out of here, find our wands and rescue the others.”  He shivered.  “I dread to think what’s happening to them right now.”

   “To be honest,” said Draco turning to face the red head, “the Dark Lord will know that Harry’s still alive, so he probably will just want to scare them rather than get much information out of them.  Hopefully,” he added under his breath as he knelt down to look at the base of a rather large wardrobe at the back of the room. 

   “Do you think someone will come back for us?” asked Sarah with some trepidation.

   “I’m counting on it.”  Draco smiled and stood up, looking at the wardrobe.  “Guys and dolls - I think I have a plan.”

***

   Harry opened his eyes slowly and the last few moments of his consciousness came flooding back to him.  With a jolt he sat up; he was lying on slightly damp grass, twilight was stetting in and he could hear the rumble of traffic in the distance.  There seemed to be a number of huge stones around him. 

   Jumping to his feet he spun around in panic; he made an educated guess that he was at Stonehenge, never having been there before.  There appeared to be no one around. 

   “Hello?” he called out cautiously. 

   How the Hell did he get here?  His first thought was that he had traveled to another reality once again, but just as the sick feeling of dread was creeping up into his throat he remembered that he had fallen into the fireplace with a whole jar of Floo powder.  He must have ended up here by accident - but how? He though almost straight away - there wasn’t any fireplaces about?

   “Hello?”

   Harry almost jumped clean out of his skin.  “Who’s there!” he cried, wand out defensively.  Out from the fast growing shadows stepped a young man, and Harry’s first impression was that he didn’t look that dissimilar from Tom Riddle, though he had an inexplicable air of clam about him that Harry just couldn’t help but trust. 

   “Who are you?” he asked again.

   “A friend Harry.”  The man smiled.

   “Who’s friend and how the Hell do you know my name?” snapped Harry, his implicit trust wavering. 

   The man laughed and raised his hands in a submissive gesture.  “Please, do not be alarmed, I am here to help you - shall I explain?”  His dress was unusual, even for a wizard, Harry noted.  He looked as if he’d stepped out from a century or two previous to the one they were currently in; his long black coat moved quietly in the soft breeze working its way between the stones. 

   “Er - yes,” said Harry, keeping his wand up but starting to shiver.  It may have been an Indian Summer but a t-shirt was not keeping him that warm as the sun disappeared. 

   “When you were knocked randomly into the Floo network I pulled you out to here - it is a kind of meeting place for us.”

   “Us?” interrupted Harry.

   “My people - we are called The Watchers.  We are immortal humans charged with helping to maintain the balance between the forces of good and evil.  We do our best to…keep our eye on things as you would say.”

   “Right,” said Harry.  He had never heard of such a thing, but then he didn’t study as much as he should.  Hermione might have known, but she wasn’t there right now, so he had to try and keep his head on his shoulders. 

   “So you just…watch?”

   The stranger smiled.  “It’s more like we give fate a helping hand.  We pay particular attention to you Harry Potter, the boy who lived.”

   A shiver ran down Harry’s spine.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

   “Harry - serendipity smiles upon you.  Surely you have noticed all the fortunate escapes you’ve had?”  The man took a step closer to Harry, but Harry didn’t flinch.  Some of that natural trust was coming back to him.  “You just happen to be the one who found Riddle’s diary after young miss Weasley tried to dispose of it?  You just happen to own a wand which shares the same core as that of Lord Voldemort, ensuring the Priori Incantatem which enabled your escape from the graveyard?  Or how about your sudden arrival in the alternative universe last year, where your unique skills were needed the most.  The incident with the Floo powder just now is more than enough to show that you get more than your fair share of luck Harry.”

   Harry frowned, disturbed.  “Are you saying that someone’s controlling my life?” he asked rather alarmed.  The man laughed and shook his head.

   “No, I’m saying your life is cursed - or blessed - to be more eventful than others, and it is the task of people like us to help you to achieve your goals.”

   “Oh,” said Harry, not entirely sure what to make of that.  The two of them stood in silence for a minute; Harry shifted his weight but kept his wand trained on the stranger.  “So…how come I’ve never heard from you until now?” he asked, trying to get things straight in his mind.  “I mean, I’ve been in some pretty nasty scrapes, how come you never stepped in before?”

   The man put his hands in his pocket.  “You have always done okay for yourself, there has been no need to reveal our presence.”

   “You mean like when Voldemort murdered Cedric Diggory?” flared Harry, “I could have done with some otherworldly presence then.”  The stranger shook his head. 

   “It was sad but the loss of one life is not sufficient to provoke our involvement.”  He looked serious for the first time, his whimsical tone abandoned.  “Harry, I do not bring you here now merely because I am bored; there are terrible times ahead unless events are put into place now to change things.”

   Harry frowned.  “You mean you can see into the future?”

   “No Harry, we are simply observant of the present.”  The man came and stood right in front of Harry and took him by the shoulders.  “I had to pull you out of the network so I could warn you.  There is so much more at stake here than the safety of your friends, or even the fate of your world.  I had to give you a chance to prepare, as well as an item or two to help you in your task.”

   Harry looked up into the man’s dark brown eyes and finally lowered his wand.  “Will I be alone in this…task?” he asked quietly.  The man sighed and turned away. 

   “Who can say?  But you have achieved so much when your friends and allies have been stripped away from you, I am not overtly concerned by that.”

   I bloody am, though Harry, but remained quiet.  He’d had so many shocking revelations in his life he wasn’t sure how he felt right now; when Hagrid told him he was a wizard all those years ago he’d been relieved and excited.  When he discovered the truth about Sirius’ betrayal he’d been elated, and when his name had flown out from the Goblet of Fire he’d felt lost and abandoned.  Discovering his heritage as the heir of Gryffindor had been slightly overwhelming, but not entirely surprising, but this?  He wasn’t even sure what this man was saying?  What could be more at stake than the whole world - wasn’t that what he’d said?

   “What are you thinking Harry Potter,” asked the man, pulling him away from his musings. 

   “I’m thinking how can the same crap happen to the same bloke twice?!” cried Harry running his hands through his hair and pacing towards the sound of the traffic.  “I thought it was beyond coincidence the last time the dimensional doorway was opened, that all that stuff should happen.  But now it’s open again and the world’s fallen apart - again!  But this time it’s my world.  And now I find out - again - that I seem to be the only one who can do anything about it?  This is beyond belief.”  He shook his head.

   “I told you you are unusually blessed Harry,” said the stranger kindly.

   “You also said I was cursed,” pointed out the young Gryffindor.  As he stood next to the looming stones however he didn’t feel young at all.  He just felt old and alone.  The traffic flashed along in the distance; the light faded in the sky, turning the horizon purple and mauve.  He hung his head.

   “I said I had something to give you,” prompted the stranger.

   “Something to help me?” furthered Harry.  The man nodded.

   “Not here though,” he said, “I think it would be best to retire to a safer location; follow me.”  He smiled and turned on his heals, back towards the two pillars of stones he had emerged from between before.  Harry frowned and did as requested. 

   In the blink of an eye, the young man slipped into nothingness, causing Harry to start.  “Hello?” he called out into the twilight.  There was no response, and Harry looked about, before calling out once again.  “Hello?”  Nothing. 

   Sighing, Harry decided his luck couldn’t really get much worse, so taking a leap of faith he stepped forward into the gap between the pillars like the other man had done before him.  A wave of warmth, followed by a tingling sensation passed over his body, and the landscape changed dramatically beneath his feet.  The cool winds vanished, and he was no longer outside, but on the inside of what looked at first glance to be a modern looking, but very comfortable living room. 

   “Come in, come in,” cried the young man from a beautifully kept kitchen as he grabbed a tray covered in biscuits and tea things and came over to where Harry was.  He put down the tray and looked at the boy.  “You look a great deal more healthier in some decent light,” he remarked, and thumbed a lock of the boy’s hair.  It happened too quickly for Harry to properly register the flurry of embarrassment at the moment of intimacy.  He shook his head.

   “W-where am I?” he stammered instead.  The man smiled over his shoulder as he knelt down and opened an exquisitely crafted wooden cabinet. 

   “This is my home,” he said, standing up with a silver jewelry box held in his hands.  He put it down on the coffee table next to the tray and removed his coat.  He was wearing a chocolatey brown waistcoat that shimmered in the firelight, from which he pulled out a pocket watch.  “Good,” he said and put it back from where it came from.  “We have a little time.”  Harry was a little shocked; his eyes wondered around the open plan house, over all the perfectly matched furnishings and silver ornaments of beautiful women, dancing it seemed with no one but them selves.  There was a window with big heavy drapes partially drawn.  Harry stepped closer and looked outside; it looked like a particularly foggy winter’s night, with nothing but silvery mist swirling on an inky black backdrop. 

   Harry felt a hand on his shoulder.  “I usually keep the curtains pulled,” said the young man gently.  He closed the gap and eased Harry back down into a seat, handing him a cup of sweet and milky tea.  He sat down opposite and cupped his hands in front of his chin, looking at the boy.  Harry looked back. 

   “Do you have a name?” he asked, sipping some tea; it warmed his insides up wonderfully. 

   “Several,” said the man with smile and picked up his own cup.  “I usually go by Alex now though, it is easier for most people to pronounce.”

   “Right…cool,” said Harry.  He felt he should have been feeling uncomfortable with the situation unfolding around him, however as no one seemed to be trying to kill him at this precise moment, he decided it was okay to relax a little. 

   “I know you have seen battle Harry,” said Alex, his eyes slightly mournful, “and as a warier myself I wish I could give you something that would provide you with slightly more tangible reassurance, but this is the best I can do for you for now.”  He placed his cup carefully down on its coaster and undid the clasp keeping the sliver box closed.  He opened the lid up and lightly lifted up a gleaming silver necklace from inside.  “I entrust this to your care Harry Potter.”

   Harry took it and looked at the pendant hanging from the fine chain.  A flat stone which faded from pink to a rich purple was laced in a oval ball of silver threads.  Harry wasn’t sure how the stone was suspended between the metal, but he could feel strong magicks emanating from it.  He stared a moment.

   “It’s a bit girly,” he said after a moment.  Alex laughed.

   “It was made a very long time ago.”

   “Oh,” said Harry, “guess they didn’t think about things like that then.”  He sighed.  “Am I supposed to wear it?”

   “Well, you could try eating it, but I don’t think it would do you much good,” said the other man light-heartedly. 

   Harry gave a small laugh to.  “Fair point,” he said.  “What does it do?” he added as he attached the clasp behind his head and tucked the chain underneath his t-shirt. 

   “It offers protection and guidance…of sorts,” said Alex.  “Sorry I can’t be more specific.” 

   Harry shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it,” he replied and stood up.  He looked towards the front door, but was unsure if he wanted to open it.  “Er…well, I suppose I ought to get back then?” he prompted.  Alex nodded in agreement and stood too.

   As they walked towards the door, Harry spotted a series of portraits hanging in identical silver engraved frames on the wall beside the door.  “Who are they?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.  All the men and women, of which there were about a dozen, were all as equally beautiful as the frames they were sitting smiling in; they were very similar looking in facial features, in that they all had golden hair and dark brown eyes, but their dress suggested many different periods from history.  They smiled bashfully and swept back their hair shyly.  Alex reached out his fingertips to one of the women; she closed her eyes and smiled as he touched her cheek.

   “They are - were - my mortal companions,” he said sadly, and then looked down at Harry, dropping his hand.  “You see, immortality is both a blessing and a curse too,” he said knowingly, then lent across the boy and opened the front door.  Harry couldn’t help but gasp, Alex’s past lovers forgotten. 

   Beyond the front step was, well, nothing.  There was simply a back void with silver smoke swirling around, just like Harry had seen out of the window.  “You see now why I keep the curtains pulled?” Alex asked.  Harry nodded.  That would freak anyone out. 

   “I am going to send you back as close as I can to where your friends are being held,” he explained.  “They are in London, but unfortunately there are spells in place monitoring magic in the area;  you’ll have to walk a bit until you reach their location.”  He looked down at Harry.  “You know how to do a locator spell - with your…wand?” he said, unsure. 

   Harry nodded; he guessed that The Watchers were too advanced in their magic to require something so trivial as a wand.  “Thank you for your help,” said Harry.

   “Just - trust your instincts Harry,” implored Alex, “and you’ll be fine.”  He sighed and took Harry by the shoulders once more.  “I have faith that we’ll see each again.”  Harry smiled, surprisingly reassured considering the daunting task that lay before him, whatever it turned out to be. 

   “I will.  I - thank you.”

   And with that he stepped out into the nothingness.