Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
RANK NUMBER ONE
o
Holiday break started and ended in a flash, and Harry could be found in his dorm room after a long journey on the Hogwarts Express, unpacking and trying to ignore the apprehension crawling up his throat now that he was back at school.
He wished he could've stayed back at home forever, preferably without a Seed growing inside him. Imbolc was little more than a month away, and though Harry thought he was as prepared as he could be for the Seed cleansing ritual, he didn't feel prepared. The Initiate Tournament was rapidly approaching as well, but he hoped to avoid that drama as much as possible.
Listen to Draco. Just get through this year.
Harry flopped onto his cot, moaning as his sore limbs creaked right along with the hanging bed. The Tournament was scheduled for spring term, but Harry had no idea when exactly it would begin. Deciding he didn't much care, and muttering the instructions for the cleansing ritual under his breath, he drifted into sleep.
At the sound of unexpected chatter, Harry's eyes flew open. For a moment, he twisted and turned fretfully, struggling to see in the pitch blackness. Stone dug into his back, informing him that he was no longer lying on his scratchy cot.
Gasping, Harry sat up, painfully reminded of Halloween morning last year. Nott and the other first year Initiates had knocked him out and dragged him to Dungeon Two along with Ron, Parvati, and others. Was it happening again? Had Theo, the bastard, cracked at long last and dragged Harry here, ready to have another go at him? Or maybe—
Harry finally halted this hysterical train of thought and focused on the background chatter that had awoken him in the first place.
"OUCH! My foot!"
"Montague, if you roll over me one more time—"
"Oi, I'm hungry!"
"Does anybody have their wand? Did anyone go to sleep with it? Somebody use Lumos!"
"Lumos!" said a voice Harry recognized as Theo's, and a light emanated from the corner of what was revealed to be a small stone chamber. Dull light washed over the faces of the twenty-one Skull Initiates in Harry's Initiation phase, and the chatter died for a brief second as everyone looked at each other, utterly befuddled.
Harry, however, was utterly irritated. Of course Theo was the only person their age who would bother going to bed with his wand stuffed in his pajama pocket. I should've thought of that too.
"All right," said Theo, taking a shuddering breath and still managing to sound calm. "I don't see a door. Looks like someone kidnapped all the Initiates in our group while we were asleep and stuck us all in here."
"We figured that part out, genius," Draco sneered, and Harry's head turned towards the sound so fast that he nearly cricked his neck. Harry hadn't noticed him there at first because Draco had been curled up in Theo's shadow, but as Harry watched, he sat upright and scowled. Someone chuckled at the cranky retort, and with a sort of dawning horror, Harry realized that a couple of the other boys' gazes lingered on Draco's uncharacteristically messy hair and crumpled pajamas.
I'm supposed to be the only one who gets to see Draco like this.
"Is this some sort of elaborate revenge of the dirty-bloods?" Draco asked, peering around into the corners of the chamber as if expecting somebody to pop out.
"No way they managed something like this," somebody piped up from behind Harry. "They wouldn't dare."
Harry privately agreed that the non-Elites had no spines, but as he was the one currently keeping his head down to survive, he didn't have much room to judge at the moment.
"I think I know," said Theo, scooting closer to Draco. Harry bristled. "The Tournament might be starting."
"What do you mean, 'the Tournament is starting'?" somebody wailed. "It's the first day back from break! And why would they kidnap us while we're sleeping?"
"It's a sort of ritual, I suspect," said Theo, sounding incredibly pompous as he said it. "My brothers hinted something like this would happen. I think every Initiate goes through it during the second Initiation phase, but the upperclassmen keep it secret."
Silence lay over the chamber like a heavy blanket. Nobody bothered to argue with Theo. The boy possessed countless faults, but being uninformed was not one of them.
"So are we just going to sit here?" Draco asked, voice nasally. "Does anybody know what time it is?"
There was a brief commotion as everyone tried to decipher the tiny hands of their watches in the dim light, but Theo got there first.
"It's not even morning yet. It's just two o'clock in the middle of the night," he said, and was quickly drowned out by howls of disappointment. "I'm pretty sure everyone woke up around the same time, and not naturally. They must've put a spell on us to jerk us out of sleep."
Just then, the torches on the chamber walls blazed to life all at once, blinding Harry. The Initiates flinched and screeched, shielding their eyes from the brightness, as the featureless stone wall on one end of the chamber began to melt away, revealing a wrought-iron door.
When the door banged open a second later, Harry flinched more violently than he had when he'd been temporarily blinded.
The Executioner Fawley stood behind it, his bronze mask glittering brightly enough to give Harry a headache.
"Initiates, stand!" His voice echoed around the room like the crack of a whip, and everyone hastened to their feet. "Line up, march closely behind me. No talking."
Everyone stepped into place, not making a peep. Harry knew that all of them were dying to ask what the hell was going on, especially Draco, who was chewing his lip and glaring at Fawley as though he wanted to decapitate him.
He doesn't like anyone disturbing his beauty sleep, thought Harry, burying his snicker. Not that he needs it.
"Hurry!" Fawley snapped and swept off. The Initiates marched behind him, backs straight and heads facing forward, arms stiff at their sides.
This must be how Death Eaters march into battle. Harry held back another snicker as he thought of the Dark Lord leading an army of psychopath-murderer Death Eaters decked in pajamas.
The Initiates marched out of one chamber and into another, and when Harry saw where they were, all the mirth drained out of him.
They'd entered a damp, dark, and massive circular room lined with metal cages, cages high enough to reach the ceiling. Bones and fur littered the cage floors, and some of the iron bars were smeared with dried blood. Fortunately, all of them were empty at the moment, but Harry could imagine how much it would stink in here when they weren't.
"We are underneath the Skull Pit arena," Fawley announced, stopping in the middle of the room and turning around to address the Initiates. "Many of you have seen the magical creature arena matches during parties, and this is where we keep the creatures beforehand."
He pointed one of the two doors on the far ends of the oval-shaped room. "The magical creatures set to fight each other are usually sent into these rooms and elevated into the waiting cages upstairs, which will open when the match begins and release the creatures into the arena. Tonight, you will all take the same path. Line up by the left door and take the elevator up."
"Are they gonna make us fight like the creatures?" Draco hissed under his breath, only to be shushed by Theo.
Inside the elevator was a single flickering torch, and the twenty or so Initiates crammed inside saw the air mist up in front of them as they breathed.
Harry shivered and drew his arms around himself. Draco, Harry saw, moved closer to Theo as if seeking his warmth, and their eyes met in the dim light.
Harry swallowed and looked away. The elevator jerked to a stop with a creak and a screech, sending him staggering. The doors whooshed open, revealing a small metal-lined room beyond—the "cage."
There was a pool of some sort of dark liquid in the corner. Harry wasn't sure if it was blood or not. The stone floor was damaged, dotted with deep gauges, perhaps left there by a clawed animal that had scratched it up in a pre-battle panic attack.
"The gates are closed," Millicent Bulstrode snarled. "We're locked in here. What the hell's going on?"
"I told you it's a ritual of some sort," said Theo, scowling.
"So they're gonna make us fight each other?" someone asked.
"I don't know," Theo snapped. "Oi! Draco!"
Draco had detached himself from the rest of the group and was currently messing with the huge iron gates keeping them inside the cage. Harry swiveled to face him, his heart pounding against his ribcage.
"I can't see past the doors!" Draco called back. "But there's colorful light creeping in from underneath. And I hear… I hear music. There must be some sort of party going on, a party the Skulls haven't told any of us about."
Harry swore under his breath. He did not want to experience another infamous Skull party. The Skulls had to make every little event into a dramatic production. Why the hell is everything so over the top?
But even as he asked himself the question, he had to admit that he already knew the answer. The Skulls threw massive parties, terrorized the rest of the school, and dramatized every bit of Initiation precisely because they were a show—no, a spectacle—themselves. A spectacle meant to portray their power and influence.
All this stuff makes us feel like we're part of something big, something important. And it had worked. As much as he hated the Skulls, he found their glinting masks and rituals glamorous, larger than life. He wondered if the Death Eaters went through an initiation process similar to the Skulls', and if that was part of the reason they were so powerful now.
The promise of power, Harry knew, was a compelling incentive to join any movement. It was the reason Harry had joined the Skulls, and the only reason he'd keep putting himself through hell. He'd been nobody as a non-Elite, but now he was a part of the Purebloods' glamorous world, as much as they didn't want him there.
He knew he shouldn't be excited for the Initiate Tournament to begin, but he was. Walpurgis Night, the last spectacle the Skulls had put on, had been horrible for him solely because he'd been an outsider, a victim. This time he wouldn't be the victim. Even if he didn't intend to win, or even try to win, he would be a part of a dazzling world that had done everything in its power to keep people like him out.
It was a small but delicious victory.
The gates swung open with a bang. Sound and light from the Skull Pit flooded inside, and the Initiates cautiously stepped out into the central arena, squinting in the blazing torchlight. The floor pounded with the steady beat of music and the hum of fairy light. It was all too much. And if he peered up, he could spot countless shining Skull Masks leaning against the arena fence, watching the Initiates like they were the night's entertainment.
Harry felt like a fish trapped in a fishbowl.
Just then, the gates on the opposite end of the arena swung open too, but it wasn't a monster that came thundering out from behind them.
King Adolphus, Sebastian, Nathaniel, and the twelve other Gold Skulls walked into the arena, sending the Initiates into a panicked silence.
Harry, meanwhile, felt the color drain out of his face. The Skulls watching from the outside started clapping, the only sound they'd made since the Initiates had walked into the arena. This was probably the quietest Harry had ever seen the Skulls; most of the time they were cheering and whooping and catcalling, but now they clapped steadily, respectfully.
Harry didn't know what to make of this creepy-as-hell ritual. To add to his aura of discomfort, the music cut off abruptly.
Adolphus, the Nott twins, and the Gold skulls strode across the arena, in the same formation birds made during migration, and stopped right in front of the cowering Initiates.
"You're probably wondering what's going on," said Adolphus conversationally. "Allow me to enlighten you. This is the annual Opening Ceremony, where your training results are announced. Each of you will be given a starting rank based on how well you did during Body, Soul, and Mind training last term. This gives all of you the opportunity to gauge your competition and figure out what you need to work on in preparation for the Tournament."
Sebastian slinked forward, taking over for Adolphus. Harry thanked Merlin that he was wearing his silver mask this time.
"There will be three separate preliminary Tournaments, one each for Mind, Body, and Soul," Sebastian hissed, his voice resounding enough to make it all the way to the Skulls standing outside the fence. "For Mind, you will be put in increasingly difficult simulations one by one, without break, and forced to survive them using your intelligence. Whoever gets the furthest before dying in the simulation wins. Soul works in a similar way, except you will be put through psychological tests instead of mental ones. For the Body Tournament, however, you will be dueling each other, one on one. Body will occur first, less than two weeks from now, on January 19th. Mind will take place on February 10th, and Soul on March 3rd. You will gain a separate ranking for each portion of the preliminaries. Then, on May 29th, is the climax, the final exam of the Tournament."
Sebastian gave a pregnant pause, as if he were building up to something important. His eyes gleamed behind that horrible mask, and Harry could've imagined it, but had Sebastian's gaze flicked over to him just then?
"All twenty-one of you will be put into the Dungeon Five Dueling Ring, all at once. The Tournament final exam will be a real battle, and you will be forced to employ everything you have learned this year: Body, Mind, and Soul. During the final exam, each Initiate will have a specific goal to reach in order to score well, but you will only learn this goal on the day of the battle."
Sebastian stepped back, bowing his head to Adolphus in deference, his eyes gleaming brighter than ever.
"Now, for the starting ranks," said Adolphus, and he didn't sound bored anymore. A grin spread across his harsh face, and his golden mask morphed to accommodate it. "Well, look up, won't you?"
Harry heard gasps echo around the Pit. Everyone, even the Skulls outside the arena, craned their heads to see the ceiling.
"What the hell?" someone yelled in outrage, and Harry finally looked up.
His thoughts spun for a second, and he was absurdly sure that he was looking right at the surface of a shining, upside-down lake. But then he came back to his senses. Like the wall screens shown on Walpurgis Night, this seemed to be some sort of projection that listed ranks and names in lurid colors.
Just read it. I know I won't be very high on it, but it doesn't matter as long as I'm not dead last.
Wait a moment.
Harry swallowed, his back prickling. People were looking at him, their gazes burning.
He had a horrible feeling that he knew why.
He looked.
1st Harry Potter
2nd Theodore Nott
3rd Argyle Montague
Harry stopped reading there, feeling his dinner rise up his throat and his face heat up.
How? He'd failed several Soul and Body tests on purpose to keep himself average. He was already just above-average in Mind and hadn't needed to pretend there, so how was this happening?
Adolphus lowered his gaze from the ceiling and locked it on Harry, who felt his veins freeze over.
"Ah," said Adolphus, that awful grin still keeping his mask twisted. "I see Mr. Potter is in first place. How… unusual. How amusing."
Harry shook his head, making himself dizzier. "Sir, there's been some sort of mistake. I mean"—he tried his hardest not to look beseechingly at Draco—"I'm not… I'm not a Pureblood. I'm not in first place."
"Did I hear right? Did I just hear you claim that, we, the Skulls, have made a mistake?" said Adolphus, all traces of mirth disappearing from his voice.
"N-no, sir," Harry stammered. He forced himself to keep his head facing forward, to resist the urge to look back at Draco and decipher the expression on his face.
It's not my fault. I tried. Draco has to believe me.
"For the rest of you," Adolphus bellowed just then, making everyone flinch out of their befuddled stupor, as even the older Skulls seemed to be shell-shocked by the rankings, "for the rest of you who think that there's been some sort of mistake, I assure you that everything you've see tonight is accurate. Potter is our Rank Number One. A dirty-blood, has ranked in first place. Let that sink in."
Adolphus raised his voice, wielding it like a whip. "See how low we have sunk. So many high-quality Purebloods were in the Initiate class this year, yet none of them held a candle to Mr. Potter here. This is precisely what the Dark Lord warned us about. He told us that, if we weren't careful, one day the Mudblood would overtake the Pureblood, and on that very day, the wizarding world would fall into ruins. Is His prophecy coming true? Have you grown fat from your privilege, grown too lazy to stand up and stomp the filth beneath your feet every time it tries to rise? What a shame. What a shame."
Adolphus paced in front of the Initiates, tutting, shaking his head violently. Sebastian's mouth curved and twitched, and he gazed at Harry with something that could only be described as vicious delight.
This is all a joke, Harry realized, unable to hear anything but the roaring inside his own head. This is a joke to them. I never fooled them with my antics. Adolphus and Sebastian, they knew. They've always known that I've been hiding my talent.
How could he have been so stupid as to think he could get away with every reckless thing he'd done this year? Adolphus and Sebastian would let Harry sneak out of the spotlight only over their dead bodies, and they'd drag him right back every time he tried.
But what was the point of this all? What did they have to gain by making him, the token dirty-blood, their first ranker? Surely it went against everything they were trying to do, which was assert the half-bloods' inferiority—
Oh.
The prickling sensation was back, and this time goosebumps erupted down his arms along with it.
Everyone was staring at him. Glaring at him. Harry didn't dare look over at Draco, sure that he would see nothing but disgust and disappointment there.
Adolphus and Sebastian want to turn the rest of the Initiates against me. They want to isolate me. They want to make my life hell, and most of all, they want to prove that I'll never win.
Harry clenched his fists.
"Come here, Mr. Potter," Adolphus whispered, crooking a finger at him.
Harry stepped forward, wondering if he was stuck in a bad dream. When he arrived at Adolphus's side, Adolphus put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Hard.
"Spectacular job, Mr. Potter. Every time I look at you, I am reminded of your filthy blood, but you have proved us all wrong. Your very existence is a paradox, a dilemma. You should not have gotten this far, but you have. It seems that the world has tilted off its axis."
Sebastian—or was it Nathaniel? Harry would not dare to glance away from Adolphus when he was being spoken to—let out a snicker.
"Perhaps the world will return to a state of equilibrium," Adolphus continued, his eyes studying Harry's face, "and when it does, you will return to your original state: half-blood filth. But perhaps… perhaps the Dark Lord's prophecy really is coming true, and you will bring about the end of the wizarding world."
Adolphus straightened, now addressing the Initiates gathered behind Harry.
"Will you let him win?" Adolphus's voice sizzled with tension, ichorous like magma. But the temperature plunged instead of rose at the sound of it. "Will you let a half-blood win the Tournament, steal from you your birthright as a Pureblood?"
No one responded audibly, but the Initiates radiated a palpable sort of fury. It bubbled from within the crowd, threatening to overflow, and Harry felt himself shrink into himself.
Adolphus turned back to Harry, a smile like the smile of a serpent obvious underneath his mask. "Well, Mr. Potter. I would say that I hope the Tournament gives you great victory, but that would be a lie."
Adolphus shoved Harry back toward the Initiates, who backed away from him as he rejoined their ranks.
Harry still hadn't looked at Draco.
"Now," said Adolphus, clapping his hands together. "It's the middle of the night, isn't it? Look how time flies. The Opening Ceremony, and this little private party will be ending soon, so get all the fun out of your system. Initiates, climb up into the Pit from over there to get out." Adolphus nodded toward the left side of the fence, where someone had hung a rope ladder. "Oh, and Mr. Potter… good luck. You'll need it."
Adolphus chuckled one last time, turning around and making his way to the rope ladder.
The music started up again, but the Skulls watching from above did not seem inclined to stop gawking at the Initiates any time soon.
Harry ran for the rope ladder the moment they were dismissed, wanting to get as far away from here as he could. He didn't want to look at Draco, and he didn't want to deal with the other Initiates right now.
He needed sleep first, then he'd figure out what to do now that his and Draco's plan had failed.
If Adolphus thinks he can intimidate me, he's wrong, Harry swore. I am more powerful, smarter, better than them. I've always known that. And if the Dark Lord said some bollocks about his precious Pureblood wizarding world falling into ruin, then… Harry set his jaw. Well, I'll prove him a Seer.
Draco watched Harry flee, wishing they could both just sink into the ground. Theo stood next to him. Draco noticed the bulge in his cheek, and wondered if Theo was biting his tongue.
"It doesn't matter," Draco told Theo under his breath. "It's not real. Harry isn't really in first rank."
Theo looked up at him, eyes blazing.
"It's staged," Draco said. He wasn't stupid. He knew that Harry had tried his hardest to appear the average, untalented Initiate, but Draco himself had forgotten to address the gaping hole in his plan: Sebastian and Adolphus wouldn't ever forget what Harry was capable of. Draco had assumed they'd be perfectly happy to let the inferior dirty-blood wallow in mediocrity, even if they knew the truth, but once again, he'd underestimated the Skulls' love for sadism.
"I know," said Theo, taking Draco's hand and steering him toward the rope ladder. "There's no way Potter did that well in training. He was pretending to be bad."
Draco wasn't surprised Theo had figured that out. What did surprise him was Theo holding his hand, which he was doing more and more lately. Draco didn't like it, but he didn't hate it either. It was just sort of weird, but he didn't mind if Theo wanted to get all grabby.
Then again, Sebastian stood on the edge of the arena, dark and tall, looking over at them, and Draco didn't want to anger him more than necessary. He twisted out of Theo's grip.
"Let's leave the Pit as soon as we can," Draco said, ignoring the hurt look on Theo's face. "I don't want to get dizzy like I did last time." This time, though, there didn't seem to be any of that sweet Aeramor in the air. Perhaps the Skulls only put it out during big parties, not every little gathering.
"Fine," said Theo. "You know that Potter wasn't watching us, right? He's already out into the Pit."
"What?" Draco spluttered. "What does Harry have to do with any of this?" Ever since he'd found out about Harry and Draco's friendship, Theo had avoided mentioning the half-blood at all costs. Though as far as Draco was aware, Theo had kept his promise on not harassing Harry, nor had he nagged Draco about him. "You stopped holding my hand because you were afraid Potter would see us, didn't you?" Theo said, his voice uncharacteristically shrill.
"I did it because your crazy fucking brother is watching," Draco snarled, grabbing the rope ladder and clambering onto it.
Theo went red. "Oh."
Draco made it to the top of the fence and jumped down, landing right in the Skull Pit and into a buzzing cloud of fairies. He took a second to steady himself, and the fairies screeched and spun away.
Theo joined him a second later, still blushing. "Do you want to stay for a while?"
"And do what?" said Draco. "What is there to do here except snog on the sofas?"
"T-that's not—t-t-that's not—"
Knowing that Theo was now out of commission for at least five minutes, Draco led the way out of the Pit, skirting around the clusters of Skulls. This wasn't a wild party like the one during the first week of school, nor was this really a party at all; the Skulls just seemed to be hanging around. According to rumor they did this every night, late into the night. The Skull Pit was just a huge, fancy common room, after all.
"Draco! Come here!"
Draco whirled around. He and Theo had nearly made it to the exit, and there Harry was, lurking in the shadows by the door.
Theo stiffened.
"Just go," Draco told him. "I'll come later."
"It's dangerous in here," said Theo, glaring daggers at Harry's silhouette.
"Just go!"
"Somebody might see you two talking, and I won't be accused for any rumors that get spread around," said Theo darkly, stalking off.
"He's a real prick," Harry said, when Theo was out of earshot, and made an extremely vulgar hand sign in Theo's direction that Draco chose to ignore.
"Make it quick, or someone'll see," Draco said, sitting in a vacant sofa and hoping that its size and the general darkness of the Pit would make it hard for a passerby to identify him. His hair was a bit of a giveaway though. Its silvery-blond color reflected every bit of light that reached him.
Harry sat down too, nervous again, his hands trembling just a bit. "Right. Look, Draco, I don't know—"
"It's okay," said Draco, with a long-suffering sigh. "I know you tried. I know this wasn't your fault. I'm just… I'm just pissed off."
"At me?" Harry whispered.
Draco shook his head, taking Harry's hand in his, realizing this was about the millionth time he'd reached out for it since they'd become friends. It was an automatic reaction to seeing Harry frustrated and worried. There was no way Draco could resist that kicked-puppy look.
"Of course not," Draco said, squeezing it, trying to ignore how grubby and sweaty Harry's palms were.
The things I sacrifice for this idiot.
"What should I do?" Harry sounded miserable. "I hate them, Draco. I want to hurt them. If that's what they want from me, then—"
"Keep your head on," said Draco, dropping Harry's hand. "Don't give them an excuse to strangle you. Remember, half-bloods aren't allowed to talk back or fight back. Just because you got away with it a few times doesn't mean you'll keep getting away with it. They'll seriously kill you, Harry. You know that."
"And no matter what they do, you'll still support it all." Harry's eyes glittered.
"Support what?" Draco wished Harry wouldn't be so angrily vague all the time. "I told you I don't support what they do to you."
"But you still support the Skulls. The Dark Lord."
Draco sighed. Not this old argument again. "Harry…"
"They won't give me a fucking break, Draco!" Harry's face went puce with fury, and he leaned over so that he and Draco were nose to nose.
"You started it by being an idiot," Draco tried, aware of how pathetic his argument came off.
"Actually, I started it when I was born a half-blood," Harry retorted, his knuckles going white as he clenched his fists.
Draco was at a loss.
Harry had done many stupid things in his life, including asking to be moved up a year in Initiation, but he didn't deserve this treatment, not by a long shot. Draco had always known the Skulls were a bit too extreme for him, ever since he'd watched them rip poor Bodus Burke apart—literally—on the first day of school last year for trying to save a blood-traitor's life, but he'd told himself it was for a good cause.
Draco still believed that, to a point, but he could no longer ignore the fact that the Skulls had gone way, way too far where Harry was concerned, and consistently went too far, especially now that they had pulled this bullshit. Not that Harry's foolhardy behavior didn't deserve criticism, of which he had received plenty, but—
Draco hated Adolphus, hated Sebastian and Nathaniel, and hated the Initiates in his group who hissed insults at Harry in the common room. Harry was more powerful than all of these fools put together.
Think about how easy life would've been for both of us if he was born a Pureblood.
Except there was no point in thinking that, because Harry wasn't a Pureblood.
Think about how easy life would've been for both of us if these bastards didn't hate him for his blood.
There was no point in thinking that, either.
"We're in the Skull Pit right now." Draco stood up, giving his head a little shake. "We're not having this conversation right here. Look, I hate this too. I told you a million times that I hate the way they treat you. What else do you want me to say?"
"If you could admit that the Dark Lord and the Skulls are evil, that would be nice," Harry said, sprawling back on the sofa and giving Draco a glare out of the corner of his eye.
Oh, for Merlin's sake.
"It's a necessary evil," said Draco, barely realizing that his fists were clenched at his sides. "The—the Dark Lord needed to protect wizarding culture. If… if the Mudbloods kept procreating with Purebloods, then—then—the pure wizard race would die out, and then—"
"Oh come on, you people aren't even trying to come up with good reasons anymore!" Harry threw his hands up in the air.
"Don't be so loud!" Draco hissed. "Anyway, it's not your fault you're a half-blood. I hate how they think it is, that you deserve some sort of punishment for your parents' choices. It's complete nonsense. I'm going to try to convince the other Initiates not to mess with you without revealing that we're friends. Hopefully they'll leave you alone. Just keep doing what you were doing. If you lose your head, you'll let them win."
"Why should I keep being nice and docile? Clearly it didn't work the first time around. They want me to play their sick little game, and if I don't, they'll force me to." Harry flung the words at him, voice shaking with a violent sort of fury, and Draco stepped back.
"I—I—" Horror dawned on Draco, slowly but surely.
Harry was right. There was no getting out of this. Adolphus would never let him out of his sight.
Draco's plan had failed. He wondered why he'd ever thought it would work.
"I'm really sorry, Harry. I was wrong. I underestimated how horrible the Skulls could be even though I had no reason to underestimate them at all. My plan was bad, and you saw right through it. I'm sorry."
Harry gaped at him for a second, this being the reaction he'd least expected. His anger drained away as the seconds passed, and Draco gave him a weak, watery smile.
There was a long, painful silence.
"It's… it's not your fault," Harry managed at last, red-faced, apparently having forgotten the fact that he'd been snarling at Draco a mere minute earlier. "Anyway, I'm going to bed. We'll talk about what do about this tomorrow, when we're not exhausted. You—you want to walk back with me?"
"Can't," Draco said, without hesitation. He gave their corner of the Pit a sweeping glance, confirming with relief that nobody was in the nearby area. "Somebody might see us together in the dorms. We've been here for a risky amount of time already. You go on first. I'll come after you in two minutes."
Harry cleared his throat, opened his mouth as if he was bursting to say something, frowned, and then left.
I really messed up this time. But what else could Draco have done? He'd given Harry the best advice he could, and Harry had followed it dutifully, even though he hadn't agreed, and—
This isn't my fault, or Harry's. This is the Skulls' fault.
Anger rising, he tapped his finger on the arm of his sofa, waiting for the two minutes to pass, closing his eyes and holding his breath. He didn't want to stay in this place a moment longer than necessary.
The air grew cold just then, and Draco flinched. Though his eyes were closed, he could sense that something had eclipsed the flickering fairy lights in front of him.
Someone was standing in front of him.
Two someones.
Draco's eyes flew open, and when they did, his blood froze over.
Sebastian and Nathaniel loomed over him, their masks shadowed and somehow more grotesque than their real faces. Draco shrunk back into the couch, his heart fluttering against its ribcage as though it wanted to escape his doomed body.
Sebastian quirked one corner of his lips, and cocked his head as he watched Draco squirm. A stray fairy danced over him, washing his mask in eerie green light. Nathaniel stood a few steps behind him, right in his shadow.
The memories of Sebastian's body and breath banged on the inside of Draco's skull, begging to be let out of their tight box so they could flood his limbs with terror and erase his rational thought.
Harry isn't here. Theo isn't here. Nobody's here.
"I'll scream," Draco choked out once he'd regained control of his mouth. "If you touch me, I'll scream. I'm not some dirty-blood that you can just mess with in public, I'm—I'm—"
"Lucius Malfoy's son," said Nathaniel breathily, and Draco jerked to look at him, taken aback by the fact that he'd actually spoken. His eyes appeared a darker shade of green than Sebastian's, or maybe it was just the lighting. "We know. That's what makes it so fun."
Draco's throat closed up. Sebastian held up a hand, and Nathaniel fell quiet.
"I dream every night about hurting you," Sebastian whispered, grin widening, "but rest assured, I'm not here for that now. I'd hate for someone to walk in on our private time, after all, and there's quite a few people here. A fact you ought to've realized before you sat down here with Potter to talk like old friends."
Draco's vision blurred. "You—you—"
"That's right, we followed you and dear little Theo out of the Pit as soon as you turned your backs on us. You're not very alert of your surroundings, are you, Draco? You didn't even see us sitting…over there."
Sebastian's eyes gleamed, and Draco knew he was lying. The twins hadn't been anywhere in the vicinity when Draco had looked around earlier. Perhaps they'd been under a Disillusionment Charm.
Now the bastards are trying to make me think I'm going insane.
"Just because I've left you alone for a few months doesn't mean you should let down your guard. I probably should've given you a few verbal reminders here and there," Sebastian continued in a pleasant voice, flicking a nonexistent bit of lint off his cloak. "Then again, if you knew exactly what I think when I look at you, you wouldn't be able to sleep at night. I think it's very merciful of me to give you a break. You wouldn't be able to function if I didn't."
Nathaniel sucked in a breath, gleeful, perhaps imagining the image of Draco being unable to function.
Draco had had enough. He struggled to his feet, his legs shaking almost too much to keep him upright.
Whatever Sebastian's about to say next, I don't want to hear it.
"Ah, ah, ah." Sebastian's hand shot out, and he grabbed Draco by the arm. Draco writhed and flailed, gasping, digging in his pocket for his magic obstructor Knut. He'd teach the bastards a painful lesson, make them regret ever looking at him—
Nathaniel seized Draco's free wrist and clamped down on it, nearly crushing it.
Draco whimpered, pain shooting up his arm, but he wouldn't cry. He wouldn't let Sebastian and Nathaniel see him cry another time.
"What—what do you want?" Draco gasped, trying to sound brave, but sounding terrified instead. "I'll—I'll tell my father! I'll scream, I'll—"
Sebastian yanked him close, and Draco cried out as his arm twisted, strained between him and Nathaniel, who was still holding onto his wrist.
"You won't do any of those things. You don't want to deal with the shame of… this," Sebastian hissed, baring his white and sharp teeth. "Stay docile, and I'll make our conversation quick, quiet, and painless. But if you make a scene, I'll make one too. I said before that I'd prefer it if we were alone together when your clothes come off, but if you push me to the limit… well."
Nathaniel chuckled, and Draco felt his hot breath on his neck.
"If—if either of you touch me, I-I'll chop y-your pri—"
"You say the cutest things, Draco, but you won't be able to say a single word when I'm inside you."
Draco clenched his eyes shut and breathed through his mouth, trying to settle his churning stomach.
Think of anything else. Think of Mother. Think of the chocolate cake Harry gave you for Christmas.
"Are you listening?" Sebastian spat. "Open your goddamn eyes."
Draco obeyed, swallowing thickly. Sebastian smiled blithely, cupping Draco's cheek and tilting his head up. For a moment, he gazed down at Draco, tongue caught between his teeth, chest heaving.
"Good boy," he said at last, his eyes so piercing that they felt like an invading presence all by themselves. "Let's get back to the point. I know about you and Potter. I've known for a long time, long before I saw you two talking a few minutes ago. In fact, I've known since the day you yelled out my name when I was fighting him."
No, no, nonono—
"Yes." Sebastian hummed under his breath, digging his fingernails in Draco's cheek— subconsciously, it seemed. "Very naughty indeed. A Pureblood and a dirty-blood, tangled up in a torrid love affair."
"You're disgusting," Draco said in a trembling voice, shaking his head to dislodge Sebastian's hand from his cheek. "I hope you die. I hope you die and burn and—" Draco stopped, blinking back tears, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He wasn't disgusted at the thought of himself and Harry together; he was disgusted to hear it coming from Sebastian's ugly, deformed, crude mouth.
A muscle twitched in his Sebastian's jaw. "Disgusting," he repeated, his mask rippling to frame his rage.
"Bet Potter doesn't know you're already ours," said Nathaniel, breathless. Draco could feel the heat seeping from the bigger boy's body. He was sandwiched between the twins now, and if they moved any closer, their bodies would be pressed up against his.
Breathe, or you'll faint.
"Mine," Sebastian corrected, his voice sounding as though it were coming from far away while Draco wrestled with his sudden dizziness. "Not 'ours.'"
Nathaniel's response to that was to tighten his grip on Draco's wrist.
"Harry would come after you if he knew." Draco's mouth appeared to be moving of its own accord, and his breathing grew ragged. He really shouldn't be getting Harry into more trouble right now, but hearing the twins utter Harry's name, dare to utter Harry's name, drove all logical thought from Draco's mind. "If he finds out what you do to me, what you did, he'll—"
Sebastian threw his head back and laughed with no joy, his rage still visible on every lumpy feature of his face.
"Potter broke my fingers, did you know?"
Draco's mouth smacked shut.
"Yes, yes he did. During that fight in the beginning of the year, when he was slipping on a puddle of his own blood and I was about to strike a finishing blow, he went and grabbed me, and squeezed, and my fingers just… snapped."
Kardin. Harry used Kardin's powers during that fucking duel.
He never told me he broke Sebastian's fingers. He lied to me.
Draco wanted to cry. Why had Harry hidden this from him? It was so important. It was so, so important for Draco to be aware of Sebastian's motivations at all times. Draco had previously suspected that Sebastian's obsession with Draco was his incentive to hurt Harry in the first place, but if Harry had given Sebastian another reason to despise him, a massive one like this, it made the game ten times more dangerous.
"Hurt like a bitch, that did," Sebastian continued. "Don't have any idea what the hell he did to make his fingers that strong; a potion of some kind, I bet. Nathaniel patched me up later. I was quite ashamed of myself that night, I'll admit, but looking back, I had no reason to be. Potter had a few tricks hidden up his sleeve, I'll give him that, but I would've killed him anyway if Adolphus hadn't stopped me. He can barely last a minute in a duel with me, so don't be getting any bright ideas about setting your half-blood hound on me. He'll be dead meat."
Sebastian leaned closer, brushing his lips against the shell of Draco's ear. "But then again, he's already dead meat. I'll destroy your precious little pet when I'm king, and I'll make you watch."
Draco felt teeth snag on the sensitive flesh beneath his ear, and let out a shuddering breath.
"And though I can't kill him this year, I'll make his life a living hell during the Tournament."
Draco lost it. He wrenched himself to the side, throwing his weight around to loosen Sebastian's hold. The two of them and Nathaniel staggered for a second, but in the next Sebastian caught him in a headlock, twisting his arms behind his back.
"Slippery little bitch," Sebastian growled. "Can't wait to watch you squirm like this when I kill Potter, and squirm even more when I make you m—"
Sebastian stopped talking. A gaggle of Skulls were approaching this secluded corner, laughing and chattering as though Draco wasn't currently getting assaulted a few feet from them.
Sebastian shoved Draco away, gritting his teeth. "Soon. Now get going, before anyone sees. Sweet dreams, Draco, dear."
Draco thought about taking out the Knut and using it right here. He thought about calling Sebastian an ugly, evil, disgusting monster, and swearing to kill him. He thought about going straight to his father, maybe even the Adolphus, and spilling everything.
Instead, he gulped in a breath of air, blinked away the blurriness in his vision, and ran from the Pit.
Draco woke up late the next morning, a bleary, cloudy Sunday, his eyes dry and crusty. He'd cried himself to sleep, and his skin still felt itchy and tight on him, like he was wearing a skin-tight suit that didn't belong.
The Thread Sphere was going off, annoying as ever. Then again, if it hadn't, Draco would've slept through the whole morning.
Potter, the git, tries to call me at ten o'clock, when the stupid ceremony ended so late last night.
"What?" Draco mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand and holding the sphere in the other.
"You weren't at breakfast," Harry said, something accusatory in his tone.
Draco blew up at him. "Of course I wasn't at breakfast! We all slept at three in the morning! Why the hell would I wake up at eight o'clock to go to breakfast?"
"I only woke up because I thought you'd be there," Harry said, the pout on his face obvious even though Draco couldn't see it.
Sighing, he sprawled back on the bed and kicked off his sheets, letting himself relax into the bed in a way he hadn't last night. Hearing Harry's voice had driven away that itchy feeling under his skin, at least for now.
"What's the point of that?" Draco asked, grinning despite himself. "We wouldn't have been able to talk to each other anyway."
"I just… I just wanted to see you," Harry muttered, and Draco's grin widened so much it was a miracle his face didn't split in half.
"Let's meet then. For lunch, in the kitchens. I need to talk about what we're going to do about this stupid fucking Tournament."
"Do you have a plan then?" Harry asked, trying and failing to sound excited.
"Maybe," said Draco coyly, and left it at that as the Thread Sphere powered down.
The truth was, Draco's new plan wasn't a very good plan, and had everything to do with revenge. After returning to his dorm, he'd spent a good hour tossing and turning in bed, sick with rage at the thought that Sebastian and Nathaniel kept getting away with everything they'd done to Draco, and now promised to do to Harry.
Draco wanted revenge, not just on Sebastian and Nathaniel, but on every damn Skull who allowed their existence. Especially Adolphus, who'd committed the additional crime of screwing Harry's life up on multiple occasions.
He understood the importance of Skulls and their whole mission. Lucius had explained it to him in great detail, and Draco wasn't going against those teachings.
But just because he agreed with their principles didn't mean he agreed with anything else they did. This time, they'd gone too fucking far, and Sebastian's threats, and the threat of his approaching kingship, had solidified Draco's certainty of that.
He and Harry had been backed into a corner. The way Draco saw it, he had no choice. If they wanted Harry to stay in the spotlight, well…
I'll make sure Harry shows them what a big mistake they've made bringing him back into it.
Draco practically sprinted out of bed and into the bath. By eleven o'clock, he was fully dressed, not to mention starving.
Then somebody knocked on his door, at possibly the worst time ever, just as Draco was putting on his cloak. Draco yanked it open, unable to keep the irritation off his face. "Yes?"
Theo stood behind it, his schoolbag slung over his shoulder. His gaze trailed over the cloak Draco had half-put on. "Where are you going?"
"For a walk." Draco buttoned up, scowling up a storm.
"But it's snowing outside."
"I didn't say I was leaving the castle." Draco snorted and tried to push past him. "What do you want?"
"I just… never mind. You're going to see Potter, aren't you?" Theo's eyes narrowed. Draco and Harry had met several times in December, and Draco had stopped trying to hide it from Theo after a few failed attempts. Theo already knew everything, so what was the point?
Then, Draco's veins froze over, as a possibility he hadn't given much thought until now surfaced, unbidden.
Sebastian knows everything now, too. Did Theo tell him?
To Draco's knowledge, Theo hadn't said a negative word to Harry since he'd found out about their ongoing friendship. Nor had he made a peep of complaint when Draco and Harry had been meeting before holiday break. Theo had been a good friend for the past month or so, useful and polite and pleasant to be around. Draco did not want to fight with him again now that Theo was being reasonable. It would be a huge pain and simply not worth it, considering how entwined their lives were at this point.
But if Theo had tattled, if he'd gone back to his old ways, there was no way Draco could tolerate that. He'd broken their friendship off numerous times before, and he could do it again if Theo had regressed into an evil arsehole—
Calm down. If Theo tattled on me, Sebastian would've told me right away last night, just to taunt me. He hates that I'm so close to Theo, and there's no way he'll give up an opportunity to smear Theo's name.
Besides, Sebastian had straight out admitted that he'd known about their relationship for a long time, far before Theo had discovered them in that abandoned classroom.
Still, Theo could've confirmed Sebastian's suspicions. Draco didn't trust him yet, as much as he wanted to.
"Yeah. I'm going to see Harry," said Draco, watching Theo's face carefully to gauge his reaction. "And Sebastian knows that me and Harry are meeting. He's known for a long time."
Theo's face went slack with genuine shock, and a knot of tension in Draco's stomach unraveled.
"Draco, I—I didn't—I would never tell him! I hate him! I've told you that so many times, and—and—did he do anything to you? How did you find out? Did you talk to him last night? Draco, please believe me, I'd never reveal your secret." Theo's voice rose, hysterical.
"He didn't… hurt me, not in… that way." Draco took a deep breath, and the color slowly began to return to Theo's blanched face. "He just found me last night, after both you and Harry left, and told me that he knew. I think he's going to try to hurt Harry in some way during the Tournament. It doesn't have much do with me, so leave it. There's nothing you can do about it anyway. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."
Theo grabbed his sleeve. "Draco…"
"What?"
Theo averted his gaze. "I'm sorry about Potter. I don't like him at all, but you seem really worried, and…is there anything you want me to do?" He trailed off, giving Draco a beseeching look.
Draco stared at him. "What?"
"Nothing. Never mind. It was just—"
Draco blushed brilliantly, flustered for a reason he couldn't name. "No, no, er, I appreciate it. Thanks. If you meant it. Not that I'm saying you didn't mean it, but—just thanks, but no thanks." Draco kept fumbling with his words these days. "It has nothing to do with you."
Theo took his hand, his fingers tracing over the lines on Draco's palm. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do?"
Draco's appreciative stare became a glare. This was getting ridiculous. Of course Theo was trying to act all mature and holy in front of Draco, and it was flattering that he was trying so hard, but Draco wasn't this easily fooled.
"No, really, there's nothing you can do," Draco said, more firmly now. "Besides, you won't even stand up to Sebastian to defend me, least of all Potter."
Draco left, ignoring the stricken look on Theo's face, quite aware of the fact that he'd ruined the mood.
Fifteen minutes later, now in the kitchens with Harry, Draco stuffed a chocolate cupcake into his mouth, not bothering to wipe the crumbs off his chin. His mother would lecture him for such a digression, as Malfoys were meant to put on a pristine front at all times, but Draco did not really care how presentable he looked in front of Harry, of all people. The boy's hair resembled a bird's nest, for Merlin's sake.
Harry spluttered at him. "Say that again."
"Say what?" Draco mumbled, choosing a vanilla cupcake this time and licking the frosting, then his fingers, with great pleasure.
Harry seemed temporarily distracted for a second.
"Oh, er, what you said just now. About bastards," Harry said, glancing away.
"Yeah, I said stick it to the bastards." Draco put down the half-eaten cupcake to look Harry right in the eye. "They messed with my plan. Adolphus Lestrange is a piece of shit, and the other Initiates are nowhere as good as you. You're going to win this Tournament, Harry. I mean it. You're going to win."
"But you've been telling me to do the opposite all year!" Harry's mouth hung wide open, practically inviting a creature to take up residence inside.
Draco tried to keep his hands from trembling, vividly remembering Sebastian's hot breath wafting across his face, his fingers splayed over Draco's cheek, the tone of his voice when he promised to kill Harry.
I'm done.
"What I said before didn't end up working. I'm not stupid, Harry. They want to humiliate you. They want to hurt you." And Sebastian wants to humiliate and hurt me, but that's old news. "I told you last night that you should just keep doing what you're doing, and you disagreed, and now I agree with you. You were right. I was wrong. I thought that they would respect you if you did what they asked, what I asked, but I've realized that's not going to happen, ever. So, Harry, this is our new plan."
Draco paused to catch his breath, thinking about how best to phrase his thoughts, and explain to Harry what he suspected Sebastian and the other Skulls were plotting. Speaking of Sebastian, it was now confirmed that Sebastian's hatred for Harry came from something deeper than his obsession with Draco.
Draco hadn't yet confronted Harry for hiding the very important my demon powers helped break Sebastian's fingers bit of information, and would leave that can of flobberworms closed for now. If he yelled at Harry for it, Harry would ask how he'd found out about it in the first place, and then Draco would have to explain how he and Sebastian knew each other when he'd previously lied to Harry about their past.
And Draco could not let Harry be distracted from the mission at hand. First of all, they both needed to focus on Harry removing the demon Seed growing inside of him. Second of all—
Sebastian's words rattled around in Draco's head. "And though I can't kill him this year, I'll make his life a living hell during the Tournament."
"The Skulls won't make it easy for you to win the Tournament, or do well at all," Draco said, locking gazes with Harry and refusing to look away. "They put you up in first place because they want to pull you down and prove that you don't belong here. They're going to rig the Tournament against you."
"How do you know this?" Harry asked, his voice rising.
"I know this because I know the Skulls." Draco remembered seeing the Skulls play 'The Count' with Bodus Burke, giving him ten seconds to escape the room before they killed him, but then incapacitating him before the ten seconds were up. Nothing was ever fair with the Skulls. Draco knew why Burke's life had ended that way, understood why, but the idea of Harry being subjected to this same horrible treatment when he'd tried his hardest to assimilate, to listen to Draco—
It made Draco's blood boil.
"I'm not sure exactly what they're planning, but I'll think about it. I'll ask some of the older Initiates what to expect. We'll come up with a new plan, a better one, for the Tournament. Because, Harry, you're going to make them regret everything they did to you."
They're going to regret proving Harry right, and me wrong, Draco added to himself, clenching his fists. And Sebastian is going to regret threatening Harry. I'm not Theo. You can't threaten my friend and get away with it.
"Who are you?" Harry asked, awestruck, and Draco glared at him.
"I'm perfectly capable of realizing when my plans fail," Draco hissed. "I'm not as arrogant as somebody else in this room."
This insult did not appear to have dented Harry's burgeoning good mood.
"Like I said earlier," Draco continued, "you're going to stick it to the bastards. Even if you don't win, you're going to put up a fight, and you're going to prove to everyone that blood—doesn't—equal—power."
Draco saw Harry's wide, unbridled grin, and scowled back at him.
"I was right, then," Harry said.
"I never said you weren't right about the whole blood thing. I'm not stupid. I know you're more powerful. And… and for the record, I still believe in the necessity of… of separating half-bloods from Purebloods. Some dirty-bloods might try to ruin wizarding culture, sure, but you're not one of them, and I'm not going to let them kick you around any longer."
Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm, that shit-eating grin still plastered all over his face. "That's what you say now. But I think you'll change your mind soon."
"Change my mind to what?" Draco asked, irritable, and Harry's responding laughter rang like bells. Draco went pink at the sound of it.
"You're the best, Draco. You're really amazing. I can't believe this. I can't believe you changed your opinion so quickly. Just about yesterday you were all supportive of the way the Skulls treated me, said stuff like this is how the world works, Harry, deal with it, and today, you're just—well." Harry gestured at Draco's still-scowling face, rendered speechless with glee.
"This is how the world works," Draco said, digging his fingers into the edge of the kitchen table. "I never said I disagreed with that. But since this is how the world works, and this is how they like to play their little games, I think it's good for you to… cooperate and be the first-ranker they want you to be, right?"
Draco finally let himself grin, basking in the adoration emanating from Harry like rays of light.