Updated 28 Jan, 2012
XXXXX
It was with growing apprehension that the golden trio made their way to their Care of Magical Creatures class the next Tuesday morning. But thankfully, the frog was no where to be seen when they trudged through the snow towards the half giant of a man. Worryingly, however, was that he looked even worse then before, his wounds only partially healed and he was—ominously—carrying a dead cow over his shoulder.
Harry was surprised to see Malfoy, who hadn't been in a Care of class since the very first day in their third year, standing next to the giant man, holding what looked to be a bit and bridal. He was even more surprised to see how... muted he looked. Almost as if he had too much to think about to be bothered with everyday life. But that couldn't be it; he was a selfish prude that didn't think beyond his own nose. Must be girl problems, Harry snorted to himself. Probably got Pansy knocked up, and is wondering how to squirm his way out of the situation.
"Al'ight!" Hagrid called out as everyone gathered around him. "We're workin' in here today! Bit more sheltered from the cold, and more suited ter the creatures likes. Malfoy here will be helping today, as he has quite o' bit of experience with 'em."
All the students' eyes dropped to the impossible blond, staring in confusion as he looked at them in a distant manner. Harry remembered when Malfoy last—to his knowledge—went into the forest, and how terrified he was then. Now he just looked... bored, in a distracted way. But how could he have experience with some god-forsaken creature of Hagrids?
"Ready?" The Behemoth of a man called, "Right, well, I've been waitin' ter bring yeh inter the Forest fer yer fifth year, and now we can go'n see these creatures in their natural habitat. They're pretty rare, so I reckon I'm the on'y man in Britain ter have trained 'em."
Oh Merlin, what if it was a Chimera? Why wasn't Malfoy scared?
"Follow me!" With nervous glances to his school friends, Harry grimaced and followed his large friend into the depths of the trees. It didn't take them that long to make it into a certain spot where snow no didn't touch the ground and the area was in a constant state of semi-darkness. And, already, Harry heard three people stub their toes on exposed roots.
"Now," Hagrid said as he dumped the cow onto the ground without much preamble, "These guys like the dark and will like ter know we're frien'ly, so Malfoy will call 'em." He clasped the much smaller aforementioned person on the shoulder, nearly knocking him to the ground in abruptness.
Malfoy, who was rudely shoved out of his revere from the slap that almost brought him to his knees, blushed in extreme embarrassment, even in this lighting, at being put on the spot. But, he (amazingly) just shouldered the harness, cleared his throat, cupped his mouth and dutifully called out into the darkness at a surprising volume for the boy, "KAAAAATY! ROXAAAN! WILLLLLIAM! APPREEEENTICE! DINNER! Come and get it!"
When nothing but the few snickers of both classes sounded, Draco kept his back to the class and called again. Harry was just about to think he'd call again when he saw the terrifying black, winged skeletal horse creature he saw earlier that year. And despite seeing the white eyed, dragon face begin to take big chunks of the deceased cow's flesh, Harry was happy—here was proof (beyond a crazy girl's word) that these things really existed. Eagerly he pointed to where Malfoy (who apparently saw the thing as well) was petting the creature as one would a common horse, looking at Ron with a grin that froze as he saw the red head's expression, one of high confusion and almost glee, as if he had been finally proven right.
"What's Malfoy doing? Has he finally lost it?"
"Show me with yer hands, who can see 'em?" Two more appeared from the darkness, and one was a little smaller then the other. Perhaps a mother and... foal? Was there even such a thing in the beasts, or did they just appear out of the darkness?
Harry raised his, and noted that only Neville and some stringy Slytherin raised theirs as well. Hagrid looked around and noted the students, his gaze lingering on Neville more then anyone else. "More'n I'd expected. Now, of those who can see 'em, who can say why yeh do?"
Silence prevailed in the clearing, broken only by Hermione's quite question, whispered to Harry but heard by everyone, "See what, exactly?"
A loud tisk sounded, "Only those who've seen and accepted a death can see the Thestrals," Malfoy spoke up suddenly from behind the great man, holding reins that seemingly floated in mid air.
Hermione's "Oh!" was drowned out by Parvati's shriek as she suddenly started to back up. "T-those are terrible luck! Anyone who sees one is cursed forever, and—"
"Don't tell me you believe in that stupid superstition," The blond Slytherin sneered, falling back into his normal role of being an ass, "Anyone with brains would realize it's not true. After all, I've seen them for ages and nothing has happened."
Parvati's mouth snapped closed, a blush raging across her features as all the Slytherin's laughed at her expense, even though a few of them looked somewhat apprehensive as well. And, surprisingly, Harry could have sworn he heard Hermione stifle a snicker. He turned to her, mouth a gape, but her face was a calm mask when he looked.
"Quiet down, quite down! Malfoy, show 'er some respect, ev'n if she's a tad superstitious!" Hagrid glared down at the Pureblood, before turning back to his class. "Now, despite the Thestrals' hardly earned reputation, they're damned smart and useful. Hogwarts has a whole herd of 'em, who pull teh carriages at the beginin' an' end o' each year. Dumbledore also uses 'em when he don' wan' ta Apparate—they're excellent flyers 'n cin get almost anywheres within Britain within 'n hour. Malfoy has been taken' care o' them fer o'er two years now, ain't that righ'?"
"Yes," He said proudly, his chest thrown out. And from the way most of the students were looking at him like he was some kind of Saint, he should be. "They're pretty cool once you get to know them. This one is Apprentice, a colt of just a year. He's the nicest of the bunch, aren't you, Apprentice?" He patted the side of the skull affectionately. How he was able to tell the difference between the things was lost to Harry.
"Can I... Can I pet him?" Pansy said, breathlessly. She was trembling from head to foot, but looked like she would jump in front of a lion if it came to impressing the blond boy.
He scoffed, "Of course!" And as he guided her hands to the thick, black main of the dragonic horse, he shot a smug look over in Harry's direction, which he returned with a scowl. Prat.
"Now, Thestrals are carnivorous in nature an'..."
"Hem, hem."
"...Sometimes eat small birds and teh like, bu' mainly they're scavengers. These'uns..."
"Hem, hem!"
"...Are trained ter not eat the school's post owls..."
"Professor Hagrid!"
"Oh, hello!" Hagrid finally turned around to face the short, green covered woman. Harry assumed it was because he'd never heard her fake cough before that the man had probably thought it was one of the beasts before them.
Her lips were pursed as she clutched at her note book with tight fingers. "I assume you received the note I sent to your cabin this morning?"
"O' course! Glad yeh made it, actually. We're doin' Thestrals today..."
"I'm sorry?" She asked, cupping her ears as if straining to hear him. "What did you say?"
Frowning, Hagrid crouched down so they were much closer in height, though he was still a good head or two above her, and spoke in a firm, clear (somewhat slow) voice. "Thestrals. Rare, protected breed of Magical Horse."
She smiled at him, though Harry could see the tightening of her eyes. "Ah, I see. Thank you." She made a note in her clip board.
"Now," Hagrid said again, standing once more. "Thestrals are largely reclusive an' like the dark, which's why they're 'n 'ere..."
"Are you aware that the Ministry of Magic has classified Thestrals as 'dangerous'?" Professor Umbridge spoke up lightly, breaking into his lecture, making a false note on her clip board. A few of the more skittish of the class, who had been approaching the still calm (in fact, seem to be enjoying the attention) horse Malfoy held, quickly jumped back a few steps at her comment.
Hagrid chuckled, "They use ta, yeh mean. Changed it a year're so ago, when Black and teh Minister rode two'er 'em ta the Ministry. They've had a bad run with da superstition an' all, but we act'ly keep a Thestral fer the Minster now, dat one o'er there. Name's Snuffles." Harry, along with most of the class, snickered behind their hands at that; Harry could just see the Minister's personal assistant asking if he'd be riding 'Snuffles' over to Hungary, or something. 'Yes, Metilda, that would be wonderful. Snuffles needs his exercise now and again,' Harry snickered quietly.
"Yes, yes, I see..." Umbridge said sourly, not even glancing in the direction Hagrid pointed. Reluctantly, she made a mark on her paper.
"Anyways, there're loads o' stuff good abou' Thestrals. Once you got one tamed, yeh'll never become lost o'gain. 'Mazing sense o' direction, an' jus' as smart, so jus' tell 'em where yeh wants ter go and yeh'll be on yer way..."
"And you, Longbottom, you can see them?" Umbridge, apparently tired of trying to weedle an abnormally calm and clear headed Hagrid (Whatever Itachi told him last night must have readied him against the frog—perhaps he foretold what she was going to do?) turned to the obviously nervous young man, one of the few who weren't clustered around the Thestral, who was having his wing joint scratched by, amazingly, Parvati.
He nodded, watching Hagrid instructing Goyle how to hold a piece of meat (a large, partially eaten leg) so three of the still remaining Thestrals could eat it out of his hands. "Uh, yeah... I can..."
"Who did you see die?" She asked indifferently.
"My... my grandad."
"And what do you think of them?"
"They're..." He watched how the usually scowling, stupid look on Goyle's face brightened into a (stupid) smile as chunks of meat seemingly vanished into thin air. "...ok." He finished with a hesitant smile himself.
"I see..." Her face devoid of expression, she made another reluctant mark on her paper. Her buggy eyes scanned the clearing, looking for any other stragglers, but every last one of the students were around one of the creatures, whether by the ones around Goyle, or (the main body) around Malfoy, who was proudly sitting atop the back of his mount as the students around him "oohed" and "ahhed".
Snapping her clip board under her arm, Umbridge turned to Hagrid and crisply said, "You will receive your results in ten days time," before storming off, back towards Hogwarts. Harry was happy to see her go, and turned back towards the dragonic head he was petting. Only one thought plagued him, and as he looked towards his best friends, they showed they thought the same...
Who had Malfoy seen die?
XXXXX
After class had ended, the large Professor helped Malfoy un-harness Apprentice before dismissing the boy to go back out of the forest for his next class. He waited a bit, eyeing the Slytherin as he wandered off towards the castle. Maybe, he thought, Malfoy was able to finally return to class with the rest of the students... if Malfoy wanted to, anyway. But it wasn't up to him regardless.
So, he used his large body to the fullest, picking up the mere skeleton left over from the sacrificed cow with a single hand. The Thestrals did their work very efficiently, as there were only a few shreds of meat left and tendons holding the carcass together, and none of those were larger then a single finger.
"Here, let me 'elp yeh." A new voice, a very familiar voice, spoke up, reaching for the remains as he appeared out from behind a corpse of trees.
"Alright, thank you, Hagrid." Itachi said, dissipating his henge when the bones had left him. He, once back to his normal size, took a moment to get his bearings about him, for being in such a large shape distorted the world around him. Everything had been so small, that he had to step very carefully lest he risk crushing a helpless rake, chair, or even an animal beneath him. And if it wasn't for the fact he was stronger in his normal form, he would have had difficulty controlling the strength the shape had given him as well.
Hagrid—the real Hagrid—nodded down at his fellow professor, absently gripping the remnants as if they were mere twigs as they began to walk back to the clearing for the next batch of students. "I thank yeh fer helpin' me width Umbridge, tho' I'm sad I didn't get ter show the class the Thestrals meself. Almos' didn' keep meself hidden' back ther' when Parvati said they're bad luck."
"Well, I am glad you were able to, as another Hagrid appearing surely would have caused her to fail you outright, the racist thing she is. Anything I can do against that... woman," Itachi forced out the word, "I will do with pleasure, especially if it helps a friend in need. Now," He turned to the half-giant, "I need to return to my own class. I will see you at dinner." And he was gone in a white flash of chakra.
Hagrid stared at the place the other teacher once stood, shocked but not surprised by his ability as he had been told of it the previous night when Itachi had discussed all about the happenings of the Order since he had been away. He was distressed at finding the extent the Death Eaters were influencing, and at how quickly they were. He had also been told of the Order's progress—of finding the Horcrux's and methodically destroying them. None were discovered as of yet, but they were closing in on the trails.
However, despite how much the ninja had told him last night, Hagrid knew he hadn't told him everything—namely regarding why he was in Hogwarts instead of Konoha. Any time the man had tried to redirect the topic of conversation to that aspect, Itachi had skillfully redirected it away from it in such a way that Hagrid didn't remember how or when he did—just that he'd find them discussing something else quite abruptly.
However, the Care of Professor knew that some secrets, much like the one Itachi hid, refused to be kept away, and he could only hope that Itachi would tell him one day.
For his sake.
XXXXX
"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy." A voice spoke out, lighting a single candle in the gloom of the deserted classroom once again.
"Good evening, sir. What are we going to do today, Professor?" Draco returned in greeting. Had he been told, just two weeks before, that he would be so readily appearing for a detention, he would have laughed, and brushed it off that he was a Prefect—he didn't get detentions: but if he did, he certainly would not enjoy them.
But Professor Uchiha's detentions... they had made him think. Seriously think about himself, looking at his life, his self. And he didn't like what he saw. After the first day, he had passed off everything onto Itachi, and cursed and spat upon the teacher whenever he thought of him—which was almost constantly. After the second day he had been so badly shaken from what he'd seen—his memories, the same memories from before, but from another person's view—that he couldn't focus on anything and had lost fifteen points for Slytherin during the various classes he had that day.
The first day, one of the things he remembered was meeting a fellow small child in a day care—one who also had magic and knew what it was. They, as very young children of a similar age, disposition and gender, instantly became friends. They spent the entire day together while the nannies sat clustered together with occasional glances to their charges, once or twice starting a group activity—which Draco and his 'new bestest friend' stayed out of so they could play Rulers of the Castle with no interruptions.
However, when Draco's mother came to collect him that evening, and he proudly showed her his friend, she only gave a terse greeting and snatched him away. As soon as they were home, she gave him a good spanking, telling him it was his friend's fault, and that if she ever saw him with such a Mudblood again, she would take away all his toys, and it was their fault. His young self was confused by her antics, but readily complied for his toys were beloved, and he hadn't done anything bad. His older self refused to accept the manipulation for what it was and blamed Uchiha for the image, though Professor Snape had told him Uchiha couldn't do Legilimency when the foreigner had come to him to learn it a few weeks ago. Some people could do it, and others could not. And Professor Snape was certain Uchiha couldn't do Legilimency, so that meant all Draco saw and heard during the nightly meetings came from his own mind.
The second day he saw everything from his friends—Fredrick was his name—view, felt the things he felt. It was amazingly similar to his own sensations from the same memory, something that could only happen between two like young children who lacked complexity in their lives. Fredrick knew nothing wrong when Draco had left that day, and had eagerly told his mother—a muggle—and his father—a half-blood—all about his day in his simple child's speech. He waited happily for the blond the next day, and greeted him warmly only to be met with distaste and anger. Fredrick was confused, not knowing the reason behind the resentment, and tried to figure it out. But, he—like Draco—was easily offended, and combined with the simple life of a child he had, the offense that could have easily been solved had they been older blew out of hand and they got into a short fight, fists and random objects flying around carelessly and wildly. They had been separated, punished, and they never talked again in the short time together at the day care before Fredrick moved away to France.
Malfoy, the older Malfoy, had bitterly and stubbornly refused to believe the obvious biased influence he had been subjected to as a child to acquire his now beliefs, though it was constantly nagging at his thoughts. Had this been the only memory like it, he would have had a much easier time dismissing it as propaganda, but the horrible thing was that this was only one in many such situations wherein his life, his friends, and his behaviors had been controlled by his parents because of a then unknown reason.
He had been so set on ignoring and suppressing the doubts that were welling up inside of him the next day, he had completely forgotten the time and—not a minute after seven o'clock had struck—Itachi had come to collect him. Appearing like a black shadow (of death) in the Slytherin common room, as if materializing out of thin air in front of Malfoy's table, he had calmly stated that it was because Draco had been working on homework (attempting was more like it, he being in sore need of a distraction from his continuously darkening thoughts even if it was the dreaded homework) that just a day would be added to his time instead of a week. However, there will be no such leniency in the future.
After the third day, when Draco had finally come across Professor Umbridge again, she questioned him heavily on what Uchiha was doing to him (not what he had him do), he oddly found himself not wanting to tell her. For whatever reason, be it that Draco was doing something very personal, or that Uchiha really hadn't done anything to him, he brushed aside her prodding questions with distaste that no, Professor Uchiha wasn't torturing or molesting him and no, he wasn't going to tell her about it. She had left him alone with a sour look to her face, not upset with him—she never got upset with him—but angry at Professor Uchiha for spoiling her actions once again.
Now, on the last day of his punishment (for which he still didn't know why Professor Uchiha had reacted the way he had), he was both anxious to get it over with, and disheartened at its conclusion. For, despite Professor Uchiha's and his innate dislike for one another, he was good at what he did. There were no firm, boring, repetitive lectures, there were no mindless tasks, and there were no idiotic lines to write. The detention was doing exactly what Professor Uchiha said he wanted it to do, and yet it wasn't brain washing Draco—the Slytherin thought for himself, and was coming to his own conclusions on his own terms.
Professor Uchiha nodded towards Malfoy's initial question, "This past week you've re-seen your past, you've seen it from other's perspectives. You've seen how your past affects your present, in both your beliefs and actions. Now, today, for the final thing I will not show you something that has already occurred. I'm going to show you what your life would have been like, had you grown up outside of that influence."
Draco's eyebrows furrowed as he followed the teacher back to their customary spot at his private desk. "How're you going to do that?" A fire, for the first time burning brightly in the small room, blazed at a comfortable level, crackling merrily and given off a warming light that flickered across the room.
Professor Uchiha smiled humorlessly as he sat behind his desk. "Before I just cast you into your own thoughts and memories using an altered spell..."
"You've been altering my thoughts?" Blond eyebrows shot impossibly high over wide, gray eyes. He froze where he was at, and anger started to bubble under his flesh—had he been brain washed this entire time?
"No, I've not. You're thinking of Legilimency, and though I am quite good at Omlumancy, Legilimency is beyond my ability... Have you ever heard of a Pensive?"
"...Yes, I do. Mother has one." Draco said, calming himself down. He carefully sat down on the comfortable pillow opposite the dark haired young man, breathing to smooth his rattled nerves. He really shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. Professor Snape would know, and he wouldn't have hidden it from him. Surely he wouldn't.
"Well, what I've done is very similar to that process. There is a spell that extracts the memory from a person (so it can go into the Pensive to start off with), and I..." Here he frowned slightly, thinking hard on a word to describe what he did, "Altered it, you could say. Everything you saw and felt was from your own head, but I just... cleared it and refined it so it showed what you didn't know you remembered, while not allowing the memory to leave your head like it would for a Pensive. Human memory is truly fascinating, if you actually get into the details of it."
"Ah, I... see..." Malfoy forced out the response, truly impressed with the Professor. It was said that it took an intelligent man to create a spell, and an ingenious one to alter it; comparable to making fire for the first time, and then changing the nature of it. His respect for the teacher went up a few more notches.
"Now, what we're going to do is go into a sort of meditative stance, and I will bring your mind into a scenario. We'll be witnessing this scene, this life, had you not been raised by your parents."
"So... basically... we're watching a story?" Draco frowned, disappointed though he wouldn't admit it.
Professor Uchiha briefly smiled that emotionless smile again, "In a round about way. What I did last night, after you left, was I candle read into the life-paths Fate didn't have you go on." He cocked his head to the side, in an almost curious pose, "You nearly were an orphan, correct?"
The impossible blond gaped, eyes as wide as dinner plates, "H-how did—?" No one was supposed to know that! His parents didn't even know he knew!
Beautiful black eyes closed, and the blank smile formed again, as though on a doll. "One of the candles I read had a life-path where you became an orphan. Now, as the candle was not about your parents, I don't know why you were, but I saw what I saw. What you will be watching today will be what I saw last night in that candle."
A thick silence descended, broken only by the popping and snapping of the blaze in the wall behind them. "What are you?" Draco choked out, shaking ever so slightly. "No one should know that!" Itachi... Itachi couldn't be human! There was no way someone could have foretold that his parents almost had been sent to Azkaban when he was just a baby. It was impossible to have known that! Seers saw into the future, not the past! And he knew for a fact the only files regarding the incident had been destroyed for years! And—and Itachi said he didn't even know why Draco's parents were to have left him, so how did he know?
The smile dropped and cool, onyx eyes opened to meet his own. They stared each other down, Draco fighting the rising terror and bile, threatening to choke him. "I thought you knew, Mr. Malfoy," He spoke quietly, a whisper of a shadow, but it was heard clearly, "I am ninja. Admittedly, I was considered a genius even among the Elite of my village, but regardless, I should never be measured by your wizard standards." If Draco didn't know any better, he would have sworn Itachi's eyes flashed red just for a fraction of a second, "Never. To do so..." The smile returned, just as lifeless as before. "Well, you just accused me of not being human, did you not?"
Swallowing heavily, Draco vowed right then and there to never cross Itachi. Ever. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named could order him to on threat of death and Draco would refuse point blank.
"Now, let us get started. Could you please add another log to the fire, Mr. Malfoy?"
Still shaking slightly, he stumbled to the task, glad to focus on less frightening thoughts. He carried over the heavy log and messed with it and the tongs for a bit while Professor Uchiha thankfully looked at some notes, leaving him to his task and not seeing how he shook. He eventually couldn't dawdle any longer (the log was obviously on fire, and would not go out now) and sat down and watched Professor Uchiha nod to himself, before setting the scroll aside and looking back up again. The Asian placed his right hand on the table, palm up. "Now, place your left over mine, and your right as mine."
Draco, not trusting himself to speak, did as told with only slight hesitation. Professor Uchiha was quick to place his left over his right, and Malfoy jumped reflexively when the other teenager immediately grasped both of his hands with firm, callused fingers.
He had only just started to blush—realizing just how intimate they must appear with nothing but a fire place burning, all alone, clasping hands over a small table as if lovers—and tried to pull his hands away (he was, after all, quite straight and did not like holding hands with another boy, regardless how girly that boy was) but Itachi held firm, "There is a blood vein going from the ring finger of our left hands, straight into our hearts, and from the ring finger in our right hands directly from our hearts. They are our most spiritual connections in our bodies. Believe me, I would rather not hold your hands either, but it is necessary as I will accompany you into the scenario, so as to answer any questions you may have."
"Er, right. Well then," Draco coughed falsely, "S-Shall we get started then?"
"Clear your mind, and close your eyes. I will take over from there."
"Erm, right-o, then," And he almost eagerly clenched his eyes shut. Nothing happened for several moments, even though the Slytherin was very sure his mind was clear (besides the occasional, "Do we have to hold hands?" thought in his head that popped up). Eventually, however, there was an odd pulling sensation, and everything blinked out of existence except for Itachi's red eyes, glaring at him through the darkness.