Notes: Uh oh, shits getting real, guys. Thanks for sticking with me through this, and keep the reviews coming! 3
Chapter 11: The Order Reborn
Draco left a good two hours early for class, and found himself standing outside the door to Healer Leavitt's office. He ran his fingers across the dark mark unconsciously. The skin had healed perfectly, without the slightest trace of a scar, or any damage to the dark mark. He took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the office door. Would he even want to see him outside of office hours? What was he even doing there? I need help, Draco reminded himself, that's why I'm here. No one answered, though. Perhaps he was busy teaching a class, or something. Just as he turned to leave the door opened with a click, and Goyle walked out, carrying a pile of books.
"Hi Draco," He said stiffly. "How are things?"
"Bloody terrible, honestly." Draco crossed his arms across his chest in a hopeless attempt to hide the dark mark. There were no words for how much he loathed the lab attire's short sleeves.
"It'll get better, right?" Goyle replied, not sounding too sure. "They've got to catch those wankers with the Reaper's Folly soon."
"Of course," Draco said dryly.
"Well, Professor Leavitt said you can go in," Greg replied awkwardly. "See you around."
Draco mumbled something along the lines of 'take care', and entered the office – making sure to shut the door behind him. He sat in one of the leather armchairs in front of Leavitt's desk and sighed.
"Good afternoon, Draco. Was there something you needed?" He asked, looking up from a stack off essays that he was grading.
"Help, I think. If you have a moment," Draco said quietly.
"I always have a moment for those who need my help," Leavitt replied. "What's on your mind?"
Draco told him about the nightmare, in detail – particularly the aftermath. He didn't even think to hold anything back like he normally might have. It was by far the worst panic attack he'd ever had. He couldn't tell where the nightmare ended and reality began. It felt more like a memory than a dream. That morning he'd followed the path he had taken in the dream. He even found the little abandoned play fort, but no dead unicorn. So it was at least partly symbolic, yet... How had he seen a place he'd never been to? How could he perfectly remember a completely mundane conversation with Molly, that apparently had never happened? Charlie had indeed made a pet out a gytrash as a child, as well; Arthur had confirmed that. What did it mean?
"I think..." Leavitt said, laying his quill down on the desk, "That this might be a bit beyond my area of expertise. The problem, is that what you have seen may be real – in a sense. Have you had dreams like this before?"
"Yes," Draco confirmed. "Not that often, but it has happened before."
"Tell me about them."
Draco thought about it for a few moments, and recalled several such realistic and seemingly prophetic dreams. The most noteworthy was the one in the sixth year at Hogwarts. It was a dream that gave him the solution to repairing the broken vanishing cabinet. He dreamed about Dumbledore's death. He didn't know who was going to kill him, only how it would happen, and that wouldn't be him. He'd only seen the flash green light as he was pushed aside. Then, there was another dream during the war – that Harry had been captured at the manor and killed by Voldemort. Draco hadn't suspected that it was Harry that day he lied to Voldemort – he knew it was him, and exactly what would happen if Voldemort figured it out. In the second year, he'd joked about hoping the basilisk would kill Hermione – but he'd seen it attack her in a dream the night before. He'd nearly had a heart attack when he'd heard the news that she'd been petrified. There were plenty of other times that he could recall as well, though they were rather mundane.
"These aren't dreams, Draco. They're trances," Leavitt said in a serious tone. "There's a good chance that you are a seer."
"That's just stupid," Draco groaned. "You're taking the piss out of me. It's not like I've started rambling nonsense prophecies. "
"Of course not, that requires very precise focus and and decades of training," Leavitt said with a smirk. "Those are also an entirely different type of seer. And, you associate these trances with dreams because your mind is most open to such confluences when you are asleep. It's possible to have visions while you are awake, but it takes extraordinary mental discipline."
"But if that's true... Does that mean he's back? He can't be," Draco replied, gripping the arms of the chair so hard it was a miracle that it didn't tear.
"I doubt it, but symbolically it makes sense. He is dead, but his vision certainly isn't." Leavitt fell silent and seemed to be deep in thought. "From what little I know about these sort of trances, the important details are the symbolic ones. Well, mostly. Sometimes they show events exactly as they will pass, assuming action isn't taken to alter the outcome."
"That's codswallop," Draco drawled. "Me? A bloody seer? What's next? Fairfax is a Squib? Maggie is a pure-blood?"
"Considering how realistic these dreams are, and the difficulty that you have distinguishing them from reality, I believe it is a possibility. Clairvoyance is a common trait among those with a natural inclination toward healing magic. But again, it's a bit beyond my experience. Professor Singh, however, would be able to confirm it," Leavitt replied, getting up from his chair. "Let's go see him, he should be free now."
"The Herbology professor?" Draco asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Professor Singh has some experience as a Mind Healer, and worked with the ministry as a Mediwizard alongside their Aurors for many years. He is a very skilled trauma healer, possibly the best one here; don't let his humble personality fool you. What matters to you, however, is that he is a seer with abilities similar to yours," Leavitt explained, ushering Draco out the door.
Draco followed without a word. He had a very hard time imagining the gentle, soft-spoken Herbology professor as part of an Auror team. It wasn't that Draco doubted he was a Healer, he must have been if he was responsible for chaperoning the students while they worked at St. Mungo's. He just didn't seem like the sort of person to thrive in that environment. Singh seemed perfectly at home humming to himself as he tended the plants in the academy's greenhouses and gardens. Mediwizards that worked alongside Aurors often had the same skill set as their counterparts, and Draco simply couldn't imagine the mild-mannered Sikh professor hexing a Death Eater. ...Maybe offering them a cup of tea and a biscuit or something, but there was no way he'd be involved in violence.
"Good morning, Taranjeet." Leavitt practically shoved Draco into the greenhouse when he'd sort of froze at the door.
"You as well, Bradley," Professor Singh replied in his vaguely Indian accent as he finished pruning a juniper bush. He tucked his wand into his mint green turban and turned to face them. "What brings you to me today?"
"I have a case that may be better suited to your skills than mine, if you have a moment," He told him, and launched into a brief explanation of Draco's 'visions'.
Singh listened with interest, and stroked his beard as he pondered over it. "When you have these dreams," He said to Draco, "Do you forget the details as time goes by, or can you recall them with ease?"
"I can still remember every moment of one that happened when I was sixteen," Draco replied, as he recalled that he had, in fact, dreamed of the day that Harry caught him crying in Myrtle's bathroom. "And some before that as well."
"Do you sometimes have difficulty distinguishing them from real memories?" He inquired with interest.
"Yes," Draco answered without the slightest hesitation, and told him of how he'd had to ask Molly if she remembered having a conversation with him the night before.
"Curious," Singh said. "Professor Leavitt's theory is correct. Those are not ordinary dreams. You are a Clairvoyant. I can see it in your aura as well, now that I am looking for it."
"Wonderful," Draco complained. "So I'm going to start spouting nonsense prophecies next?"
Professor Singh laughed and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. "Heavens, no. The visions themselves differ depending on circumstances when you aren't consciously aware of them, but with proper discipline you can control them. A Clairvoyant can view past and future events, both as they would occur or symbolically. They are not set in stone, however. Such visions are but one path of many, and often serve as a warning of something to avoid, or a solution to a current problem. You can also view something remotely, as it occurs in the present."
"That... Actually sounds useful," Draco admitted sheepishly.
"It is very useful. It saved many lives when I worked with the Aurors, and the Order of the Phoenix," Singh told him with a smile.
"You were part of the Order?" Draco asked, more than a little surprised. "So, how do I control this?"
"It's quite simple. All it requires is a clear mind and a bit of meditation."
Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "Of course it requires a clear mind, in that case it'll take years."
"Meditation may actually help you, especially with your anxiety," Leavitt suggested. "I was considering it as a possible treatment, myself. However, I was unsure whether or not you would have the patience for it just yet."
...And that was how Draco found himself sitting cross-legged on the ground, in a secluded section of Loxley's gardens with Professor Singh. It was a small stone patio, surrounded by a series of trellises overgrown with ivy. The air smelt pleasantly of lavender incense, and it was far enough away from the main courtyard that the only sound was the chirping of the birds that made the gardens their home. Draco couldn't help but wonder why he'd never bothered to visit the gardens. It was beautiful beyond words, even in the fall. He could scarcely imagine what it must look like in the spring, with the flowers in full bloom. It didn't do much to improve his mood, however.
Draco stared vacantly at the painted cobblestones he sitting on, and traced his finger along the edges of an elephant motif that decorated the nearest one. For some idiotic reason, he'd agreed to meet Professor Singh an hour or so before they had to be at the hospital for class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. ...As if his schedule wasn't tight enough. What had he been thinking? He could be working on hunting down the Reaper's Folly. Instead, he was sitting in a garden doing literally nothing.
"Were you listening?"
"I... What?" He blinked and looked up at Professor Singh with a frown.
Singh sighed and shook his head. "Pay attention, please!"
"Sorry, Professor." Draco looked up at met his eyes. "I'm not very good at sitting still doing bugger all. My mind keeps wandering."
"Meditation is not about doing nothing. In fact, it is quite the opposite," Singh explained patiently. "You are trying to ignore your thoughts, and awareness of your surroundings – stop doing that. Instead, take notice of those little things: the sound of the birds singing, the way it might be slightly uncomfortable to sit like this – anything that pops into your head. Acknowledge it, but do not dwell on it. You want to be aware of the world around you, as that is how you will be able to properly harness your abilities. Close your eyes, keep your focus on your breathing, and... Start over!"
By the time Draco met with the rest of the students at St. Mungo's, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in bed and pass out. He had a cramp in his leg that refused to go away, his back was sore from sitting on the ground for so long, and he'd developed a sudden resentment for the scent of lavender. On the plus side, however, he felt more calm and collected than he could remember being in recent years. Once he had managed to get the breathing pattern right, it wasn't so bad. It didn't take him long to find the balance between focusing on his breath, while still being aware of everything around him.
Draco yawned as one of the St. Mungo's healers explained a few different ways of stabilizing a curse victim, when a countercurse wasn't readily known. He scribbled down notes of everything that seemed important – From how to appropriately triage incoming patients based on the severity of their condition, to how to convince an unhappy child to cooperate. For the later half of the day, he was assigned to shadow none other than Healer Mary Talcott, who had kept watch on him while he recovered from being gored by the nocturnox. The other students and their study partners went their own way, to meet up with the Healers they had already been working with.
While he wasn't allowed to actually touch any of the patients, Healer Talcott still introduced him to all of them and had him help in other ways – such as filling out paperwork, and handing her tools as she requested them. Working in the Emergency ward was fast paced and hectic, but the Healers and their staff were very efficient. Draco took notes on how they prioritized certain things, and the factors that Talcott considered as she delegated tasks to the Nurses and Acolytes working under her. He was relatively sure that he asked about five hundred too many questions, but Talcott answered all of them without complaint. Singh checked up on him a few times, and seemed pleased with his progress.
"You really seem to care about your patients," Draco said, after Talcott had finished explaining how to tell the difference between the symptoms of Dragonpox and some other similar muggle ailments. A child they'd seen to had a bad case of shingles, and not Dragonpox as Draco had guessed when Talcott asked what he thought.
"Of course I do," She answered dryly and adjusted one of the bobby pins holding her silken black hair into a tight bun.
"How do you handle it when you can't save them?" Draco asked, somewhat hesitantly.
She sighed and leaned on the counter in the the empty examination room. "It's never easy. You get used to it – watching people die. Especially down here in the Emergency department. Sometimes, even though it isn't intentional, it'll be your fault that they died. We don't always have enough time to sit and think about how to treat someone who's delivered to us already at death's door, and sometimes you might not make the right call. That doesn't happen often, obviously, but it is something almost all Healers go through at some point. When you lose a patient, you need to take a step back, remind yourself why your work matters, and carry on. You can't save everyone, but you can save most of them. As long as you keep that in mind, you can keep going. Because, you can't save anyone if you give up when one person doesn't make it."
"Thank you for being honest," Draco replied, surprised by her response. At the academy, when they discussed such things, the Professors just told them to see a Mind Healer and not to reach for the Firewhisky.
"It's not in my nature to sugarcoat things. It shouldn't be in any Healer's nature to do so. While no Healer wants to tell a patient they're dying, they might not feel the need to seek appropriate care if we don't explain their condition bluntly and truthfully. Remember that as well," Talcott replied, as one of her Acolytes came running into the exam room – skidding to a halt in the doorway.
"We've got a Quidditch accident – male, twelve years old, broken neck, possible internal bleeding!" The Acolyte panted, leaning on the door frame as he caught his breath.
"Back to work we go!" Talcott said, motioning for Draco to follow them.
Draco was mentally and physically exhausted when he met up with Fairfax to discuss what he'd learned that day – which was a lot more than he expected. He nibbled on a biscuit she'd offered him while she read over his notes, adding a few of her own occasionally.
Fairfax handed him the notebook back and gave him a warm smile. "You're making excellent progress," She said with a nod of her head. "I've noticed that your charms have improved as well."
"Thank you, I do seem to understand a bit more actually working with the Healers," Draco replied thoughtfully and tucked his notebook into his bag. "In fact, I – urgh! No, not again..." He stared in horror at the dark mark that was burning painfully and glowing faintly in the semi-darkness of the classroom. Draco had honestly been wondering if he'd hallucinated the burning sensation the night before, but there was no denying now.
"What is it?" Fairfax asked, frowning.
"I don't know... Someone is trying to summon the Death Eaters," Draco answered, his eyes downcast. "But I don't know who possibly could, and I definitely don't don't want to know why."
Not daring to disapparate, Draco used the floo in the main hall of the academy to drop himself into the living room at the Burrow. He accidentally inhaled a mouthful of soot and coughed as he vanished the black stains from his white lab attire.
"Thank goodness!" Draco heard Molly say as she ran into the living room to see who had flooed in. "You've been in 'mortal danger' all afternoon," She added pointing to the odd clock with all the Weasleys' and Harry's portraits on the many hands. Draco squinted at it, and noticed that she had put a photo of him on there as well. ...When had she done that? And why?
"I don't think I was in any danger," Draco said skeptically as the clock hand with his photo on it switched from 'mortal danger' to 'home'. "I've been at St. Mungo's observing the Healers all afternoon."
"Why did you use the floo? You usually apparate, don't you?" Molly asked. "No matter. Change your clothes and help me cook dinner. We'll have a full house since what's left of the Order will be meeting here tonight, so I could use an extra pair of hands."
The living room of the Burrow was standing room only that night. While half the Order of the Phoenix had been killed off during the war, the ones that remained hadn't hesitated to come when called upon – as well as some others that could be trusted. There was Ron, Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys, of course. Minvera McGonagle, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and even Professors Fairfax and Singh were all gathered at the Burrow. Much to Draco's surprise, A good handful of Loxley's professors were either members of the Order, or had helped them in them in other ways during the war. What was most unexpected, however, was seeing Narcissa and Lucius there. Draco was honestly amazed that many people could fit inside the Burrow. Draco himself was sitting on an upturned wooden crate beside Harry, and most of the others were either standing or also using makeshift odds and ends as chairs.
"Good evening everyone," Arthur said, perching himself on the arm on the sofa, next to McGonagle. "I think this is all of us so we should get started."
"That's well and good, but are they doing here," Percy asked, looking to Narcissa and Lucius who were standing near the kitchen door beside Singh and Fairfax.
"Helping," Molly said icily. "Now then, let's start with what we currently know about the Reaper's Folly."
"Their main targets are muggles and muggleborns," Hermione said standing up so she could see everyone in the room. "The only exception seems to be the attack on Grimmauld Place. They are well-organized and have so far evaded both capture and any means of identification."
"They have knowledge of ancient and powerful magic," Narcissa contributed. "If they truly were responsible for summoning the nocturnox, then they had access to – and understanding of – dark magic thought to have been lost to the ages. We need to be prepared to face adversaries with weapons we will not know how to defend ourselves against."
"Auror Julio Santiago might be involved as well," Harry added. "I spoke to Maggie about the attack in London. She was threatened by a man who matched his description perfectly a few hours before the explosion."
"Other than Santiago, everyone on your list is either clean, dead or in Azkaban," Ron said to Lucius who answered with a curt nod of his head.
"And, Churchill?" Lucius inquired.
"I looked into that myself," Kingsley commented. "While, it is most embarrassing to admit it, Mary Churchill died some years ago. Anne had taken her place, using muggle make-up to conceal her Dark Mark in order to avoid arrest. However, she is not involved with the Folly and confessed all of this to me in person this afternoon. She came to me in a panic, because for the first time in years she felt the dark mark burn – which is apparently is a sort of summons for Death Eaters. She is in Azkaban for now, while the investigation is underway. I'm unsure as of yet what her fate will be, but she will not evade punishment."
"That's happened twice now," Draco said quietly. "Late last night, and around four this afternoon I felt the dark mark burn."
"Yes," Lucius confirmed. "However, that does not necessarily have anything to do with the Dark Lord. Any wizard with sufficient knowledge of the spells required, and a Death Eater bearing the mark at his disposal, could issue the summons. Or, the death eaters themselves could simply do it."
"So, Voldemort wasn't the only one that could do it?" Harry asked, curiously.
"No, it's just a sort of permanent binding spell that linked all of us together. They were connected to his magical signature, yes, but not exclusively. Any of us could have used it if we needed to call for assistance. The spell itself is the same as the one that was used to cast the dark mark into sky after an attack: morsmordre," Lucius explained. "...If only there was some way to figure out where we are being summoned to without actually answering it, we might have a decent lead."
"I might be able to help with that using Clairvoyance," Sigh suggested. "It could be possible to trace the magic binding the mark and use it as an anchor... It will take an hour or so, and I'll need one of you two to work with me."
"Take Draco, mine will likely be useless for that – unless you can see past a particularly horrid werewolf bite. Honestly I didn't expect my mark to still be functional," Lucius explained sourly.
"At any rate, this is where we stand on all this," Arthur explained. "We haven't got much to go on, but something's afoot."
"I'll inform the other teachers and keep a close watch on Hogwarts," McGonagle said with a nod of her head.
"I'll speak with the staff at St. Mungo's," Fairfax suggested. "I'll make sure they report anything unusual to Taranjeet and I."
"That's all we can do for now – just remain vigilant until we have some leads," Kingsley told them. "Let's arrange to meet here weekly for the time being."