I DO NOT OWN THE HARRY POTTER BOOKS OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS!
Title: Gladiolus
Summary: Time and experiences change people. When the war finally hits home, a revengeful mother will do anything to make sure the Dark Lord suffers for his crimes...Even if it means that she has to train Harry Potter. NMHP
Rosemary: remembrance, love, and death.
Mr. Potter:
By my request you have been invited to my son's burial this Sunday at noon. It shall be a very small, private ceremony with only myself and a companion attending as witnesses. You may bring two…friends… to accompany you, but do choose wisely. Normally I would send you a formal invitation but the situation is rather unique, don't you agree?
Sincerely,
Narcissa Black
"What's wrong, Harry?"
It was Hermione. Her bushy hair had been pulled back into a neat bun that was now starting to fall apart as the frizzy locks 'struggled' to be free. She sat on a chair at a newly transfigured desk, a large tome open in front of her.
The small room in Number Four Private Drive had been completely redecorated by Hermione (with a tiny bit of help from Ron) to suit their needs for the next week. All the broken toys had been bagged, shoved in the small closet, and the transfigured furniture was of far better quality than anything the Dursleys would have shoved in the room for a 'freak's' use.
Ron was also there, already plotting his next move on the chest board squeezed into the corner of the room while he waited for Harry to return. When Hermione's concerned question reached his ears, he too glanced up.
"Harry?"
Harry himself was silent, staring at the parchment. It wasn't the rough and cheap parchment he used at Hogwarts. Instead it was smooth, creamy, and almost silky to touch. The ink used was a rich black; the script itself was almost calligraphy as it scrawled out in perfect, neat lines.
The first thing that entered his mind was that…Malfoy was dead. But Harry didn't remember the sneering, arrogant boy from school. No, he only thought of the scared boy that couldn't kill his Headmaster because he didn't want to, but needed to.
Snape killed him instead, and Malfoy…was dead. Why?
Then, 'is this a trap?' entered his mind next.
"Harry?" Hermione was stood before him now, but she didn't take the letter since she probably didn't know how he would react.
"Are you alright?"
"Malfoy is dead," Harry whispered, the day of Dumbledore's death replaying in his head.
"Then you should be happy! That little Ferret—" Ron was silenced by Hermione's scalding glare.
"May I?" Hermione gestured to the parchment on Harry's lap. He nodded silently.
She snatched it up, read it quickly before rereading it slowly once more. Hermione checked the address, but it only read 'Harry Potter.' She gave a relieved sigh, glad that the blasted woman didn't know where her friend was. But the question was…How did it get past the Order?
"You're not going, Harry, it's far too dangerous!" Hermione told him quickly, turning to grab a self-inking quill so she could reply to…Ms. Black?
Ron jumped to his feet and snatched the letter from Hermione's hands, ignored her loud protests and read the letter himself.
"It doesn't sound that bad, she's probably just trying to make you feel guilty, Harry. But who's her, ugh, companion? Bellatrix? Malfoy senior is still in Azkaban," Ron rolled his eyes and shoved the missive back into Harry's hands.
"I want to go," Harry suddenly announced. Silence settled over the room and his two friends stared at him in shock.
Hermione opened her mouth to object, but Ron suddenly shook his head and turned his attention back to Harry.
"Err, why mate?"
Harry ignored the question, because he himself didn't exactly know the reasoning behind his hasty decision. He just felt…that it was his duty to attend. He didn't know why he felt guilty, but he did…
"I'll have two of the Order Members accompany me. That way if it is a trap, they can help me defend myself and you two won't get hurt."
Hermione looked like she really wanted to say something, maybe question him a bit more but suddenly her expression turned pensive. Ron was about to say something, but it was her turn to hush him.
Harry barrowed a quill from Hermione, ignored the glances his two friends kept sending him…and replied to the message.
I'll be there.
-HP
It's been two weeks since school ended, almost a week since the letter, and only one day until the funeral. Out of the blue the day before the funeral Hermione had pulled out a book on old traditions, mostly to satisfy her curiosity on how burials may differ than the one that Dumbledore received.
"The Malfoys probably have an underground mausoleum since it says here…that wizarding folk are very paranoid about their ancestors' remains being disturbed. Overall the Wizarding world is not very religious, but they do have strict if not slightly queer traditions. Oh! It even mentions that the Black family tends to favor a cremation ceremony while the Malfoys are similar to the Pharaohs of Egypt with very extravagant tombs…Interesting," Hermione muttered, curling up next to the bed in her own little world.
Ron rolled his eyes and made a hand gesture to show he thought Hermione had a few screws loose. Harry grinned and knew if Hermione had seen that she would have regretted explaining what the odd gesture meant almost a week ago to Ron when he spotted Dudley using it. Oh, and she'd probably swat Ron hard upside the head too.
Harry went back to pacing as he tried to figure what he would wear to the funeral the next day. Shacklebolt and Tonks had agreed, albeit reluctantly, to be his 'body guards' tomorrow. Tonks had even stopped by the other day to tell him the news, especially the fact that Moody had thrown a huge fit at Harry's decision. The old Auror had wanted five Order Members to go along with Harry also, but it had been McGonagall (who looked slightly shaken) that finally approved of the trip.
However, he really didn't want to go shopping for new clothes…and he certainly was not ready to face the public.
'There will be plenty of funerals to attend in the future, Potter, so you might as well go buy yourself a few black robes for the future,' a voice whispered in his head, its tone almost pleased.
He was going insane, wasn't he?
Harry's thoughts were interrupted when the impatient tapping at the window caught his attention. Throwing open the curtains, a large dark brown bird hissed at him from behind the glass. Pausing, Harry slowly opened the window but the bird only left a large square parcel on the window ceil.
'I should check it for hexes,' Harry thought to himself with a shake of his head. Maybe Moody was actually rubbing off on him and he wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
"Hermione? Can you check this out for me?" Harry asked loudly, amused when Ron only snorted from his place slumped on the bed next to where his female friend had been reading. He probably only dozed off in the last ten minutes.
Hermione carefully bookmarked her spot, climbed off the bed and poked the parcel a few times. Nothing happened, nothing moved, and Hermione frowned. Pausing, a flood of spells spilled from her lips as she tested the 'thing' for any possible hexes.
"It's safe to touch, but we should be careful opening it…I really don't like this Harry, I don't think the Order is doing a very good job checking your mail," Hermione shook her head scornfully and picked the parcel up delicately with only two fingers from both hands.
Harry gestured to the desk, she nodded, and they both huddled around the package. "When I open it, duck!"
Hermione opened it, and almost instantly they fell to the ground with a 'thump.' Petunia yelled something upstairs something along the lines of 'quiet down you ungrateful little snots!' but other than that, nothing happened.
Harry peered up slowly before getting to his feet. A small, creamy scroll tied with red ribbon lay on a black bundle. He reached for it, gingerly untied it before reading the following:
An offering of peace, Mr. Potter, for tomorrow.
-AM
"AM? It's certainly not a Malfoy, only Lucius is alive—as far as we know…" Hermione trailed off, shaking sighing. She had been reading over Harry's shoulder, and he realized she had picked up the habit of sighing quite a bit lately.
Harry picked up the bundle, and it unfolded itself to reveal a nicely cut robe.
Embroidered on the front over the left breast was a crest…It was an odd thing. The picture was of a large shield cracked almost cleanly down the middle; on one side was a fierce but large serpentine bird with silver plumage and clutching a rather odd ceremonial wand. Its background was that of a soft, night sky.
On the other side of the dividing crack was a tawny Griffin sitting upright on its haunches, his talons grasping the shining globe of the sun that appeared to have been plucked easily from the blue sky behind him.
"That's beautiful," Hermione breathed besides him, and Harry held the robe higher into the air so he could inspect it better. The robe itself was rather simple, heavy velvet with wine colored satin trimming and lining. Other than the simple but elegant lining and crest there were no other designs.
"Harry…uh…" Hermione appeared to be arguing with herself inwardly before she gave a half hearted smile.
"Why don't you try it on?"
"Yeah, sure," he replied, glancing towards Ron to find him still snoozing away. Harry still felt suspicious about the robe, but pulled it over his clothes anyway.
"Wait! There's more!" Hermione exclaimed in shock as she noticed two more items where the robe once rested. Harry finished pulling on the open-front robe anyway and had to pause when the material shifted to fit him perfectly.
Hermione held up a neatly ironed white button up shirt, dark wine pintuck waistcoat, black dress pants, black leather belt, matching tie, and polished dress shoes. Harry almost expected to see a pocket watch or top hat because the whole assemble seemed to have popped right out of a history book.
Harry felt a little…faint. "Now, this is seriously getting creepy."
Tonks whistled slowly as she circled Harry slowly before giggling lightly, "Wotcher Harry! Jeez, You sure clean up nicely!"
The young Auror's face was still pale, drawn, and her eyes were a dark haunted blue but the light blonde hair tumbling to her shoulders was quite an improvement compared to mousey brown. She even managed to smile.
"Nice to see you too, Harry," Kingsley greeted calmly, inclining his head back respectively before giving the Durselys (Petunia and Vernon, both who were torn between watching Harry jealously for his show of 'wealth' and running away from the dark skinned wizard) a contemptuous glance.
Both Aurors were wearing their work robes, which were such a dark purple that it was almost black. The Ministry symbol was etched in gold over their hearts, but the whole fashion of the robes was a bit more…extravagant than Harry expected.
"Um, what's up with the uniforms?" Harry asked awkwardly, honestly hoping that it wasn't a stupid question.
Tonks grinned widely. "Well, technically we're still on duty and since it would be impolite to wear our regular Ministry robes to a funeral, we had to wear these stuffy ceremonial ones reserved for those stupid functions our Head throws…gah, we look like a swarm of purple bees!"
Kingsley nodded slowly in agreement, smiling slightly at her description of the uniform.
"So, yeah, and only the family of the poor unfortunate soul are allowed to wear all black," Tonks stated absentmindedly, and almost muttered something about Draco not being a 'poor soul.'
However, he was. Anyone that died by Voldemort's wand was a poor soul, Death Eater or not.
"It's time to leave."
They took the Knight Bus to the Leaky Cauldron and flooed to Malfoy Manor. Oddly enough, they had to wait almost five minutes before they could exit the fireplace due to security.
"Mr. Potter, I'm honored by your presence," the soft, melodic voice greeted Harry instantly as he toppled out of fireplace at the feet of someone that was certainly a female if the feminine shoes were anything to judge by.
Blushing, Harry picked himself up with help from Kingsley and Tonks. "Err, nice to see you too, Mrs. Malfoy." That was a lie, a very obvious one.
The blonde woman curtsied, glossy flaxen curls falling over her shoulders. She reminded Harry of a porcelain doll—tall, beautiful, pale skinned with a slightly flushed face. But her eyes were so calm and icy, not the glassy gaze that he almost expected. She was dressed completely in black, from her bodice to her shoes and it made her appear almost fragile.
Harmless.
Narcissa straightened herself, but didn't bother attempting to smile. She gave the Aurors a disinterested glance, although her gaze lingered a second longer on Tonks before she turned her attention back on Harry.
"It's now Ms. Black, Mr. Potter. But you may call me Narcissa. Now, shall we proceed with the ceremony?"
"Uh, sure," Harry replied and could have sworn that he had seen a flicker of amusement in Narcissa's eyes.
She led them from the barren room, and Harry decided he found Malfoy Manor's interior to be rather gloomy and dull. Well, it might have been changed to suit the funeral, but Harry didn't really care.
However, the cold glares from the portraits were really starting to grate on his nerves as they maneuvered out of the private greeting room.
"We're not usually connected to the floo, Mr. Potter, so I apologize for such a long walk," Narcissa told them airily, opening the door to the Entrance Hall for the trio.
"She doesn't seem too upset with the death of her son, does she?" Tonks leaned over to whisper to Harry, shooting her aunt a dark glance.
Narcissa cleared her throat and Harry cringed when he realized Tonks had said that rather loud. There was another person in the room, but he was draped in dark green so Harry couldn't see his face.
However, he was rather tall but closer to average height than Snape was. So, it wasn't Snape…Or Voldemort. Plus, Harry's scar didn't hurt.
Other than that, there were no other clues in sight.
The two Aurors suddenly tensed up when the figure approached, calmly crossing the room from his spot next to the large doors. He bowed (a slight tilt of the upper body) and held his gloved hand out to Harry, "Mr. Potter, we meet once again," the voice was smooth and charismatic-- familiar but Harry couldn't put his thumb on it.
Harry suddenly felt compelled to shake the man's hand, which he did, and yet nothing happened. He realized that this was the mysterious guest of Narcissa's and probably 'AM.'
It was not Lucius Malfoy.
'Since when did I call Malfoy's mother by her first name?'
The odd group soon found themselves behind the beautifully crafted manor and before a coffin. A…person was waiting for them at the head of the coffin, but Harry wasn't sure who the heck he was. An undertaker? Priest? Hermione said modern Wizards were no longer very religious, but the odd man was dressed like some sort of priest.
The mage removed the arrangements of flowers from the coffin, and it was then that Harry realized that they were surrounded by nothing. They had walked through a maze of gardens to reach their destination, but they were now surrounded by…grass.
Harry noticed small stones littering the perfect lawn, the nearest said: "Abraxas Malfoy. A noble and beloved father—Dead and unseen, but always remembered."
The one next to that said almost the same thing.
"That's a Ceremonial Mage," Tonks whispered quietly before her expression returned to one of somberness.
The Ceremonial Mage removed the casket lid, revealing the peaceful face of Draco Malfoy.
However, Harry had the nauseating feeling that his rival had died anything but peacefully. The urge to run away took hold of the Gryffindor and Harry took a deep breath to calm himself, and instead stared at the corpse in a daze.
The Mage was chanting, holding a heavy book in front of him. Someone was sobbing quietly, and Harry realized with a jolt that it was Narcissa from her place standing between Kingsley and the mysterious figure. Her head was tilted forward, long curls covering her face from view. Harry quickly reverted his eyes, remembering that it was rude to stare.
How many other mothers sobbed over their child due to Voldemort's insanity?
Swallowing thickly, Harry realized this was worse than Dumbledore's death.
Why? Because this was a young man that…that had deserved to live until he had fully experienced the world…until Harry finally managed to pound into his head that his father was a fucking moron!
But what upset Harry the most that so many people were going to die for stupid reasons until he did something about it.
The chanting went on for what seemed forever until Narcissa stopped the Mage abruptly. She approached her son, kissed his cheek gently before whispering something into his ear. After that, Narcissa pulled out a gardenia and some rosemary from her purse and placed it in the crook of Draco's folded arms.
As she stepped away, the sound of grinding stone filled the air.
Underneath the coffin the ground parted…and by magic, the coffin closed itself and lowered into the tomb slowly. Harry couldn't see anything inside the tomb, yet he really didn't want to anyway, but he watched as the ground closed up once more.
There was no trace of the large, gapping hole any longer. It just appeared to be solid ground, but Harry knew better. There would be a headstone of some sort that had Draco's name, a compliment, and the same line that Abraxas' headstone held also added later.
And the Malfoy lined has ended.
Now Harry felt awkward, just standing there…
Narcissa, who now had rather puffy eyes, took a deep but shuddering breath and approach Harry quietly. "Mr. Potter, please follow me."
The trip passed quickly since Harry was too lost in his thoughts to notice much. It was time to return to his friends, wasn't it?
They were taking a different path through the gardens, Harry realized with a worried frown marring his brow. However, out of the two Aurors only Shaklebolt had noticed since Tonks was too busy glaring at the back of Narcissa's head.
The cloaked man had disappeared and Harry felt uneasiness settle in his stomach. "Ms. Black, where are we going?"
"Back to the Manor," she replied simply, but did not turn around to face him. When they rounded a corner, Harry's uneasy feeling tripled. There before them was a…dead end. There was a bench and Narcissa swiftly approached it…
The Aurors drew their wands.
Narcissa turned to face them in a swirl of skirts and suddenly unfurled her arms fluidly like a great swan preparing to take flight. Blue eyes sparked with sudden triumph, a small sinister smile curling about her lips.
"Now," she commanded-- her voice no softer than a whisper. Narcissa gracefully shifted into a curtsey in one smooth movement, the peaceful silence shattered by a low rumbling. The rose bushes surrounding them burst forward, swirled, scattered until all was seen was a sweet smelling blizzard of petals.
"HARRY!" Someone screamed, but the boy was so confused. There were flashes of red light, aimless, and Harry threw himself to the ground with a grunt. Better safe than sorry.
Glancing up, Harry noticed that rose petals were falling like rain but so thick that he really couldn't see anything. His heart started to race, and he wanted to move but his body refused to obey. The smooth path of stone was safe from the spells now flying overhead as Tonks quickly became frantic. He should have listened to Hermione.
"I'm over here!" Harry bellowed.
Everything was red.
Everything was moving.
Someone grabbed him by the back of the robes, easily hauled him up and pressed a white handkerchief over Harry's mouth and nose. He struggled, but his attempts quickly faded as his energy was stolen and he became lethargic.
"Sweet dreams, Mr. Potter," that charismatic voice of the green cloaked man from earlier whispered into his ear.
Harry's eyelids drooped, and he gave one last but weak attempt to even move…but the world went black…
Uploaded: 11/12/06
The next chapter will be better, I promise :) Also, this will be slightly AU since I don't like the birth year that JK chose for Narcissa.
Please READ & REVIEW! Constructive criticism welcomed, but please tell me what you think!
