Ron Weasley ran through the Forbidden Forest with a warning burning in his chest. Death Eaters had reached the castle. His family was inside, and he had slipped out to find help before the attack began. Now three of them chased him through the trees. If they caught him, no one would know in time. Branches tore at his robes. His owl, Pigwidgeon, flapped in wild circles above his head, too loud, too small to hide. A red curse split a trunk beside Ron's ear. He dove into a stand of ferns and pressed flat against the cold ground. Boots crushed leaves close by. Wands hissed spells into the dark. Ron gripped his own wand and knew running would not save him. They were faster. They knew this forest better than he did. Then a hand closed over his mouth. Ron nearly screamed. He twisted and saw pale hair and gray eyes he knew from years of hallway fights. Draco Malfoy. The last person Ron expected, and the son of a Death Eater. Draco pressed a finger to his lips and pointed down. A narrow gap opened between two roots, hidden by hanging moss. "In there," Draco whispered. "Now, Weasley. Move." Ron didn't trust him. Draco's family served the very people hunting him. But the boots were ten steps away. Ron crawled into the gap. Draco squeezed in after and dragged the moss back across the opening. They lay pressed together in the dark. Ron felt Draco's heart pounding as fast as his own. A Death Eater stopped right above them. Dirt sifted down onto Ron's face. He held his breath and counted his own heartbeats. "The blood traitor came this way," a rough voice said. "Spread out. Find him." Draco's hand found Ron's wrist and held it, steady and warm. Ron stared at him. Draco stared back and mouthed one word. "Wait." The boots moved off. The voices thinned into the trees. Still Draco held on until the forest went quiet again. "Why?" Ron whispered. "You're one of them." Draco looked away. "My father is. I'm not." He pushed the moss aside and peered out. "They think you ran east. That buys you an hour, maybe less." Ron crawled out and pulled Pigwidgeon down onto his shoulder. His hands shook. He was alive. He had lost the patrol. But the warning still hadn't reached anyone, and now the Death Eaters knew a Weasley was loose in the woods. "My family's still in the castle," Ron said. "I have to get to them." Draco stood and brushed dirt from his robes. He wouldn't meet Ron's eyes. "Then you'll need me. I know where their patrols aren't." Ron studied the boy who had just saved his life. Trusting a Malfoy felt like madness. But he had no other way through. He nodded once. "Fine," Ron said. "Show me."

Ron followed Draco between the black trees, but the paths all looked the same. Every gap in the brush could be safe or could be a trap. Draco moved fast and sure, yet he never explained his choices. Ron stopped at a fork where two trails split into the dark. "Which way?" Ron asked. "They look the same to me." Draco pointed left without slowing. "That one. The patrols never walk it." "How do you know?" Ron caught his sleeve. "You keep saying trust me. But you won't tell me why you're here at all." Draco pulled his arm free. His jaw tightened. "Does it matter? I'm getting you to the castle. Take the left path." Ron didn't move. Something felt wrong. The left trail was wide and open. The right one twisted through thick ferns. He remembered his own escape, how he had hidden low in the brush while boots passed by. Open ground was where men waited to catch you. "No," Ron said. "We go right." Draco spun around. "You'll get us both killed. I know this forest." "So do they." Ron kept his voice low. "An open path is bait. My dad taught me that. If you really want me safe, prove it. Take the hard way." For a moment Draco just stared at him. Then his shoulders dropped. "Fine," he said. "Right. But stay close and stay quiet." They crept into the ferns. Pigwidgeon settled on Ron's shoulder and went still. Twigs snapped under their boots. Ron held his breath at every sound. Then Draco froze and threw out an arm. Through the leaves, Ron saw the wide left trail below. Two Death Eaters stood there, wands out, waiting in the shadows. Their masks caught the thin moonlight. If Ron had taken the open path, he would have walked straight into them. Ron's stomach turned cold. He looked at Draco. Draco was staring at the two men too, and his face had gone white. "You didn't know," Ron whispered. "You thought that path was clear." Draco swallowed. "They moved the patrol," he breathed. "They knew I'd guide you. They set it for me." The truth landed hard. Draco wasn't tricking him. Draco was risking his own life, and the Death Eaters were hunting them both now. They backed away from the ferns, slow and silent, until the two men vanished behind the trees. Only then did Draco let out a shaking breath. "Why are you doing this?" Ron asked again. This time Draco met his eyes. "Because I'd rather die out here than let them have you." Ron had no answer for that. He only knew one thing now. Draco was on his side, and the patrols had learned their game. The safe routes weren't safe anymore. If they wanted to reach the castle, they would have to make a path no one expected.

The right path had saved them, but now it carried them somewhere Ron didn't know. The ferns thinned into strange, twisted trees. No trail marker looked familiar. Ron stopped and turned to Draco, the Slytherin boy who had thrown away his own safety to guide him. Draco had said the patrols knew their game. That still gnawed at Ron. "You said they set that trap for you," Ron whispered. "How? How did they know you'd bring me this way?" Draco's mouth tightened. He wouldn't meet Ron's eyes. "Because I told my father I'd be in the forest tonight. Before I knew you'd be here." He swallowed. "I lied to him about why. He didn't believe me." Ron stared. "So he's hunting you too. His own son." "He wants me back on his side." Draco's voice cracked. "Or gone. Either way, he'll use you to get me." Ron's chest went cold. Every safe route Draco knew was compromised now. The Death Eaters had learned to think like them. "Then your maps are useless," Ron said. "We can't trust any path you know." "I know." Draco looked lost for the first time. "I don't know where this trail goes. I've never walked it." Pigwidgeon lifted off Ron's shoulder. The tiny owl darted ahead, then circled back, hooting low. Ron watched him. His father had taught him that owls found home by instinct. "He knows the castle," Ron said. "He flies there every day." Draco frowned. "You want to follow a bird?" "I want to follow something they can't predict." Ron held out his arm. Pigwidgeon landed, then took off again, tugging toward a gap between two leaning trees. "They planned for your routes. They didn't plan for him." Draco hesitated. Then he nodded. "Fine. But if he leads us into a patrol, we run." They followed the owl. He flew low and slow, waiting when they fell behind. The twisted trees gave way to taller pines Ron half remembered. Through a break in the branches, he saw it—the castle, its towers black against the sky, still standing. Windows glowed. The attack hadn't broken it yet. "There," Ron breathed. "We're close." Draco stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. "Ron. When we reach it, they'll be watching the doors. All of them." His grip tightened. "My father knows every entrance the students use." Ron looked at the castle. Relief drained out of him. Getting near wasn't the same as getting in. "Then we need a way inside that no student uses," he said. "One even your father forgot." Draco went still. Something moved behind his eyes. "There's one," he said slowly. "But you won't like it." Ron met his gaze. They had found the castle. Now they had to breach it, and the only door left was one Draco feared.

Draco led Ron along the castle's outer wall, keeping low. "There's an old entrance," he whispered. "My father showed me once, years ago. He called it forgotten." His jaw tightened. "But I can't remember where it starts. It's been too long." Ron's stomach dropped. Inside those glowing windows were his family and friends. Every minute the Death Eaters pressed closer. "Then remember," Ron said. "Now. It's the only door left." Draco pressed his palm to the cold stone. His hand shook. "He brought me at night. There was a tree. A big one, twisted, near the wall." He looked up at the dark forest edge. "I can't tell them apart. They all look the same." Ron grabbed his shoulder. "You saved my life twice tonight. Don't stop now." He softened. "Close your eyes. Don't look for the tree. Remember your father's steps. How many?" Draco shut his eyes. His breathing slowed. "He counted. He always counted." A pause. "Forty paces from the well. The old dry well." His eyes snapped open. "There. That stone rim. I see it." They ran to it. Draco started walking, lips moving, counting under his breath. Ron followed, wand ready. At forty paces Draco stopped before a wall of ivy. He tore it back. Nothing but stone. "No," Draco breathed. "It should be here." His voice cracked. Panic climbed into his face. Behind them, far off, a branch snapped. Voices. The patrols were close. Ron pushed his hands against the wall, feeling for a seam. His fingers found a groove in the stone, a shape carved deep. A serpent, worn smooth. "Draco. What's this?" Draco stared at the mark. Something cleared in his eyes. "The house sign. You touch it and speak." He swallowed hard. "I remember the word. He made me swear never to say it." He looked at Ron. Fear and something warmer crossed his face at once. "For you, I will." He pressed his hand to the serpent and whispered a word Ron didn't catch. The stone groaned. A narrow gap split the wall, just wide enough for one body. The voices behind them grew louder. A wandlight swept the trees. "Go," Draco said, shoving Ron toward the gap. "Inside. Now." Ron slipped through into cold dark. Draco squeezed after him. The stone slid shut behind them, sealing out the light and the voices. They stood in a low tunnel, breathing hard. Pigwidgeon fluttered down and settled on Ron's shoulder. "We're in," Ron whispered. Relief hit him, then dread. This tunnel ran under the castle, toward the fight above. Somewhere ahead, the Death Eaters were breaking in. His family stood between them and safety. Draco wiped his face. "This passage comes out near the great hall. That's where they'll be striking." Ron gripped his wand. They had a way in. Now they had to reach his family before the Death Eaters did.