Said Dumbledore, " … I can help you, Draco…. Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you can possibly imagine."
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Recluse in the Attic
by Roonil Wazlib Was Here
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Dumbledore's funeral looked peaceful, or so it had seemed from the restricted view he had had from Professor Flitwick's office. An extraordinary assortment of people had turned up, the youngest of the young and the oldest of the old; he had noted an elderly man with long greying hair and a beard similar to Dumbledore's, lurking in the background. He had not seen much, an awkwardly placed tower restricted his view - a part of the castle unfamiliar to him, and now he imagined which he would never get the opportunity to visit. From where he stood, his face close to the window, he could make out a staggering procession of black cloaks returning to the castle, hundreds of chairs that were previously lined up beside the lake had begun to stack themselves neatly.
A wild feeling over took him, an instinct deep within his gut told him to run, flee, hide - something, anything. For a long time, while he waited anxiously in the locked office, he felt like a rabbit caught in a snare at midnight. Alone in the dark world, scared, intimidated and knowing that eventually, the hunter will arrive. Leave, fight your way out. You know exactly what you're doing, his mind told him, they don't know what you've done. You're more than capable.
A series of clicks and clanks sounded from outside the barred door. Last chance, his mind screamed. Was it worth it - fighting off an armed teacher, unaided and fleeing through the moarning crowds? The entire school new who he was, what he was … what he had caused. Even if he did escape, how long could he survive on his own? Wandless, homeless, wanted.
To late.
"You will shortly be leaving Hogwarts, tightly secured by members of the Order of the Phoenix," Professor McGonagall said, her posture stiff and her face unusually discolored, "You will be taken to an unknown destination where you will reside, beneath the final wishes of Headmaster Dumbledore, until it is deemed safe for you to leave."
"Where's my wand?" he asked.
Her lips tigheted, and she replied with forced politness. "Your wand has been stored safely. You will not need it for now."
"How am I to protect myself? I need my wand!" he snapped. "You think you and your little group are any match for him? You think you lot can defy the Dark Lord, the greatest -"
"While you are no longer a student here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for your recent actions have deemed an immediate expulsion, therefore I cannot reprimand you here; I remind you, Mr Malfoy, that your faith ultimately lies within the hands of our 'little group'. I would think it wise to put more faith in those who control your life."
"No one controls me!" he yelled, "You can't control me, none of you can. I'm my own person, my own man."
"Then leave." she snapped, pointing her wand at the door and flicking it; a light breeze ruffled throughout the room, "All charms have been lifted, all locks opened and all codes decrypted. Leave, if you are your own man."
With those finals words, she turned and left the room, leaving the door a jar. He was unsure of how to react, or what to even think. Did he dare take the opportune moment? Did he dare flee the castle, and attempt the high road life? He could hunt Snape down, if he tried; get him to take him in, look after him and talk him back into the circle. Would he be welcomed? Would he be forgiven for not killing Dumbledore? Was it enough that Snape did it for him, the mission had been completed, regardless of who had completed it.
And then, without warning, it swept over him, the dreadful realisation of the horrid truth that lay before him - he was not his own man. He no longer had free will, he hadn't had free will in some time now and for some time longer, he would not have free will. It was only as he settled into one of the stiff chairs Professor Flitwick reserved for detention sessions, did he allow not for the first time, a wave of self pity and loathing to overcome him.
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Comments are appreciated.
Roonil Wazlib Was Here