Young Espionage Chapter 12
I wake up in my bedroom in Spinner's End after yet another restless night. Since my introduction to the Dark Lord and my taste of the cruciatus curse, I have had nightmares nearly every night. Luckily, the Dark Lord has not asked to see me again. I know he will eventually, and when that time comes, I hope I am able to keep myself composed and remember my Occlumency at the same time. I feel for Draco, as Voldemort has taken residence in the Manor. He can't get away from any of it anymore. We can't write each other either. It is too risky for me to owl letters to the Manor, for fear that another Death Eater or even Voldemort will intercept them.
We do get to see each other some. Death Eater meetings are held at the Manor, and I go with my father when he attends them. Draco and I aren't allowed to sit in on them, since we have not taken the mark, so we get to spend time together while our parents are forced to sit in audience with the Dark Lord. The times Draco and I get to spend together are a little bit of brightness during this dark and scary time.
I glance over at the clock on my wall to see that it is already passed breakfast. Sighing, I pull some clothes from the armoire and pad over to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I go downstairs and expect to see my father sitting in the living room with the newspaper or a book, but he isn't there. I hear a clanging coming from the room down the hall, a room that I, oddly, have yet to be in since coming to live here. I raise two knuckles to the door and rap, hoping that he won't be angry with me for intruding.
"Come in," I hear him say, though his voice is muddled.
I push the door open to find a fully stocked, fully equipped potions laboratory. There are several worktables with cauldrons of various shapes, sizes, and materials. Around the walls are shelves and cases filled with nearly anything you could ever want to put in a potion. In one of the back corners stands an ornate, silver piece that I recognize from my studies to be a pensieve and a cabinet filled with small bottles of silver, wispy liquid. They must be memories. Father stands on the other side of one of the tables, a bubbling cauldron in front of him and his wand between his teeth.
"I didn't know this was in the house," I say.
Father takes the wand from his teeth and waves it over the cauldron. "I'm a potions master. I must have somewhere to work when I don't have access to the school facilities."
"It's quite impressive."
"I suppose. Go to that cabinet over there and fetch me a bezoar stone, will you?" he asks, pointing to the adjacent wall.
I do as he wants and hand him the stone, watching as he drops it into the purplish liquid. It fizzes as it dissolves.
"What is it?" I ask, nodding toward the cauldron.
His eyes are focused on the liquid in the pot as he stirs it three times clockwise and then the same in reverse.
"I am attempting to make a potion that will cure dragon pox. There is no cure for the disease at this point. I've been attempting various combinations of ingredients for years and have yet to be successful."
"That sounds quite frustrating."
"On the contrary. I find experimenting here to be relaxing."
I walk around the tables and look around the room. In a rather large cauldron in the back of the room is a liquid that is steaming a light blue color.
"You seem to need a lot of this one, whatever it is," I say.
"Wolfsbane. It reduces the effects Lycanthropy. I brew it for a…colleague."
"You're friends with a werewolf?" I exclaim.
"I did not say friend. I said colleague," he hisses, "Don't mess with it. It still needs to simmer a bit longer before it is ready."
Instead of remark on his snippiness, I turn around and come back to where he is working. "Potion making is a lot like cooking."
He quirks and eyebrow at me, "I suppose it is. I hadn't thought of it before."
"I rather like to cook. I did it a lot when I lived in the muggle world. I didn't have many friends so I busied myself in the kitchen. May I…cook for us sometime?" I ask.
Father stops his motions and looks up at me. There's a curious emotion in his eyes that I can't quite place.
"I don't see why not. We'll pick up things at the store then. With your practice of cooking, coupled with the fact that you are my child, you probably hold quite a talent in potions, not that you would know considering the menial potions I'm required to cover in class at your level."
"I have to admit, it is my favorite subject at school."
Father is silent for a moment, and I can tell he is thinking about something.
"Ah, this is rubbish," he growls, jerking his wand over the cauldron so that the contents vanish. "If you would like, I could give you…extra lessons, so to speak, while we're here at home. You could learn more advanced skills and start experimenting on your own."
He doesn't look me in the eye as he extends the offer, and I know he probably feels awkward, but he is trying his hardest to propose ways for use to spend time together. And the fact that he wants to invest in me in some way and share with me his passions…it makes me feel like we are truly, finally a real father-daughter duo.
"I'd like that very much," I smile.
The corners of his lips upturn just a little, but it's enough to be considered a smile.
It's only later that week that we go to the store and gather ingredients needed for me to make dinner for the two of us. When we get home, father sits at the table and sips a cup of tea while I open cabinets and prepare to find everything. Suddenly, pots and pans fly out of the cupboards and land on the counter. Drawers pull open and cooking tools float up as well. I turn around and when I see my father with his wand in the air, I put my hands on my hips.
"I'm doing this the muggle way," I chastise.
"Only trying to help save you time," he says, raising his hands in the air defensively.
I smile at him before turning around and going to work. I've decided to make a Shepard's Pie and a salad to go with it. I prepare the pie and put in the oven before beginning on the salad, chopping the ingredients and then putting them into a big bowl to toss. When the timer dings, I pull the pie out and am thrilled to see that the crust as reached a perfect golden brown. I place the dinner in the middle of the table and gesture for my father to cut into the pie and fill his plate. We both do so and take our first bites in silence.
"This is…quite good, Lena. You have a talent," father says, scooping up more with his fork.
"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."
We eat most of our meal without conversation, as we were both hungry. Father picks up our plates once we finish and takes them to the sink. At first, I think he is going to wash them by hand but once he has them in the sink, he magics them clean. I put leftovers into containers and tuck the away in the fridge for later.
Father lets out a sigh, "Lena, there are some things I haven't told you – about my past – and I think it's time that you knew."
Part of me is excited, and another part of me is utterly terrified. I don't know that I'm prepared for what he's going to tell me. There couldn't be much worse than learning your father was or technically is a Death Eater, is there?
"Alright," I mutter.
Without a word, he leaves the room and I follow him upstairs and into his office. Once again, all of the books and gadgets on the shelves enamor me. He sits in a high-backed chair and motions for me to sit across from him in another chair. He draws his arm up and points to a shelf, and my eyes follow it to the picture I'd noticed before. The one of my father when he was a young boy with a girl his same age that I recognize for some reason, but don't know from where.
"That picture you were interested in before, you thought you recognized her?" he asks.
I nod, "I did, but I'm not sure from where."
"You've never met her, but you've met a relative. That's Lily Potter – Lily Evans when were young."
I suddenly realized why I recognized her. Those eyes. They are the same kind eyes that Harry has.
"Is that…is that Harry's mother?"
"It is. Lily and I were very good friends when we were young. She was the first person to really show my kindness, the first child like me I met, and my first and really my only friend for a long while. We had a very special relationship. That is, until Potter set his eyes on her. James Potter and his gang – the Marauders they called themselves – were the bane of my existence. Potter and Sirius Black tormented me in school. Peter Pettigrew, the spineless git, just followed them around and copied everything they did. Remus Lupin was no better than the rest of them. He never actively participated in their shenanigans, at least not where anyone could see, but he never stopped them either. Anyway, Lily and I were great friends until Potter decided that he liked her. They're bullying only got worse, whether he felt threatened by my relationship with her or he was trying to impress her, I don't know, but it was relentless. I was a stupid, angry teenager. Even with your mother's efforts to calm me, I was still…difficult. One day, I made one of the biggest mistakes my life. I called Lily a mudblood. Lena, do not ever call someone that. It refers to a witch or wizard that is born to muggle parents and it means "dirty blood." It is essentially a racial slur. It destroyed our relationship and no matter what I did, she refused to forgive me. It wasn't long after that she finally took Potter up on his advances and they ended up married. I lost her, my first friend and the first person I ever cared about. You know why I joined the Death Eaters and the story of your mother's death, correct?"
I nod. I don't know what to say at the moment, so I remain quiet so that he'll continue.
"You do not know the full story as to why I gave up life as a Death Eater and became a spy for the Order. Before I knew that the Dark Lord had killed Stella, I received word that his plan was to attack the Potter family in order to kill the baby – Harry, I mean. There was a prophecy that the Dark Lord interpreted to believe that Harry was the one who would eventually cause his downfall, and he intended to stop that before it ever had the chance to happen. When I learned that Lily was in danger, I went to Dumbledore and told him of the plan. They were able to go into hiding with only a secret keeper knowing their destination. Unfortunately, they chose the wrong secret keeper. Peter Pettigrew was the one given the job, because he was a less obvious choice than the other Marauders. Unfortunately, they did not realize what a sniveling coward Pettigrew was and he sold them out, defecting to the Dark Lord. He entered the Potter's home, killed James and Lily, and attempted to kill Harry. I believe you know what happened from there. The day before he went to kill the Potters, he called me in, and I was greeted with the sight of your mother's dead body crumpled before me. My world stopped. He explained why he killed her and left. Not much later, I found out he knew where the Potters were, and I went to the house in hopes that I could stop the loss of someone else I loved, only to find Lily dead on the floor and Harry crying in his crib. I notified Dumbledore so that he was able to retrieve Harry, and I grieved Lily. I couldn't bear to do the Dark Lord's biddings after that. I went to Dumbledore and begged his forgiveness. He worked out a deal, so to speak, and essentially became my new "Lord." I was to work for the Order, as none of us ever believed that the Dark Lord was truly gone. Dumbledore saw it as penance for my sins. I saw it as a chance to help at stopping this madman. In order to keep me in check and under constant surveillance, he gave me the position as Potions. I eventually worked up to Head of Slytherin House. It has not been my dream career, but it has been helpful in a way. It has allowed me to watch after Harry. I feel an inherent need to take care of him, as he is Lily's son. It is the least I can do."
I sit in silence for a moment, trying to comprehend all of the information.
"If you do what to care for Harry, why do you act as if you despise him so?" I ask.
"He is the spitting image of his father, the man who made it his life's mission to make my school years hell. That's all I see when I look at him."
I just nod in response.
"This is a lot," I say.
"I know, but I wanted you to know. Rather, I needed you to know, especially if you're to become active in the Order. You deserved to know the whole story if you're to be sucked into all of this."
"Thank you."
"I'll…make us some tea," Father says, leaving me alone in his study.
The time for another Death Eater meeting as come, and while I'm not thrilled about being in the same building as Voldemort, I am certainly looking forward to spending time with Draco. I am sitting on the sofa waiting for my father to decide its time to leave. When he emerges down the hall, he quirks an eyebrow at me, I assume at my eagerness.
"Let's go then, shall we?" he drawls, tugging on his cloak.
We apparate to the manor, and as always, Narcissa answers the door. While I notice the bags under her eyes, she attempts to smile at me. I imagine that it cannot be easy to sleep knowing Voldemort is several rooms away.
"Welcome Severus. He is almost ready to start. Lena, I believe Draco is in the garden if you wish to go find him."
"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," I reply.
I walk down the long hall in the middle of the manor and push open the French doors. The yard is large, but I can hear Draco's voice. I look over to the peacocks and see him sitting in the grass talking to the large birds that are strutting around him. He looks up and sees me as I am about halfway to him and a large grin spreads across his face.
"Do those peacocks carry on good conversation?" I ask, sinking down into the grass beside him.
Draco laughs, "Not quite, but they are good listeners."
"Ah, I see. And what secrets are you divulging to a flock of birds?"
"Not secrets. More like…frustrations."
I raise my eyebrows at him, silently prodding him to continue. He runs his fingers through his platinum blond hair and sighs.
"It's just…it's frustrating that we have to sit out here, banned from their meetings like little children, like we don't already know what's going on."
"Do you really want to be involved in it all?"
Draco brings a long blade of grass between his fingers and begins to pick it apart. "Not exactly, but we're involved in it regardless of if we want to be or not. If that is going to be the case, I feel that I have a right to be involved and know what is going on. And Lena, he's going to make us become involved at some point anyway. Well, at least I know he will make me become involved. I'm nearly fifteen. I'm tired of sitting around and doing nothing, tired of not being able to help, especially if that's the life that's been chosen for me anyway," he huffs, tossing the grass back to the ground.
I reach over and place a hand on his knee, making him look up at me. "I understand where you're coming from. If I can help stop this destruction and turmoil within the wizarding world, I want to, and it does feel like we've been constantly prepared and trained only to be set aside. But Draco, let's just try to enjoy what little peace we have right now. It could all be ripped out from under us within the next day, and we'll be wishing we didn't have to do anything but be teenagers."
He smiles at me and his misty blue eyes twinkle, "You're right. We're both just stuck in our houses by ourselves with nothing but talk of a second war, and it's certainly all we can think about. We need distractions." He stands, brushing the loose grass and dirt off of his pants, and he extends a hand to me. "Care to walk with me in the gardens?"
"Of course," I giggle, letting him pull me off of the ground and looping arms with him. We walk through the gardens, talking until the sun sinks below the horizon and we settle in to look at the stars, much like we did on that night during Christmas holidays.
When it is time for me and Father to return home, Draco and I walk back into the manor. It looks just as if everything was normal. All of the other Death Eaters are gone and Voldemort is nowhere to be seen, thank goodness. Father is finishing speaking with Lucius, so I take the chance to ask Narcissa the question that has been gnawing at my mind since the night father and I underwent the cruciatus curse.
"Mrs. Malfoy, may I ask you something?"
"Of course dear! What is it on your mind?" she smiles.
I twist my hands together, "Draco mentioned that you were skilled at healing."
"I suppose you could say that. I was rather forced to learn," she responds, her eyebrows furrowed.
"Well, I was wondering…It's just me and my father in the house, and ever since that night we were both crucio'd, I've been thinking that it would be helpful to have someone in the house who could heal him if he gets hurt on missions, and well…I was wondering if you would be willing to teach me? So that I can help?"
Her eyes widen at me, "Well I'm honored that you'd ask me. I would be more than pleased to teach you. Maybe we'll get some time soon where we can go over some of the basics."
"Thank you! I really appreciate it," I exclaim, and I know I am grinning from ear to ear.
Not even a week later, my chance to learn a bit of healing arrives. I'm back at the manor, as our parents are attending another Death Eater meeting, but this time, Draco and I sit in his room. We were told by Narcissa to stay there, so whatever is going on must be more serious than normal this time.
"Do you think fifth year is really going to be that much harder than fourth?" Draco asks me.
We are distracting ourselves by talking about what might be headed our way this upcoming school year. The curiosity of what's going on downstairs is nearly eating us alive.
"I don't know. We do sit for our O.W.L.'s so I've heard the professor are a lot tougher this year in order to prepare us. I know my father will be. And what if we don't do well enough on them? Then what?"
"We've got an entire year to worry about our O.W.L.'s so we probably shouldn't start now. Although I do foresee our professor being pains because of those stupid tests…" he sighs.
Just then, a scream echoes from downstairs, making the hair on the back on my neck stand to attention.
"I think they've got someone as prisoner down there. Father said something about it, about something to do with the Ministry of Magic," Draco whispers.
I just nod, not allowing myself to imagine the horrors that must be occurring below us. It isn't long after that there is a rap on Draco's door and Narcissa steps in.
"Lena, would you like to learn a few healing basics?" she asks.
I can't help but notice how ashen her face is. I am nervous as to what I might be about to see, but I can't pass up this opportunity to learn.
"Of course."
She motions for me to follow her, and she takes me to a set of large, ornate doors. I have yet to be in the room behind them. As soon as she opens them, I know it is hers and Lucius's master bedroom. The expansive room contains a fireplace, sitting area, and a four-poster bed. The room is adorned in delicate curtains and decoration, all silver and black with accents of the same blue that is on the tail-feathers of their beloved peacocks. Lucius sits on the edge of the bed, in nothing but his black suit pants, his silver hair draped around his shoulders. The blood and injuries scattered across him tell me that he was just in a fight.
"Are you sure it's alright that I'm here?" I ask.
"Narcissa told me that you wished to learn healing skills. I thought there would be no better opportunity," Lucius explains.
He smiles at me, and I can see the kindness in his eyes. Narcissa pulls a stool up to the bed for me as she sits on another, a box of supplies at her side.
"We'll start with you watching for the most part. I'll explain everything I'm doing," she says.
I nod, eager to finally learn something useful.
"Alright, we have a broken nose, several gashes, and some cracked ribs to deal with. We'll start with the gashes since they're bleeding the worst."
She rummages in her case and pulls out a jar of greenish paste.
"This is a paste made from dittany. The plant has extraordinary healing powers. I'll spread it onto the gashes and it will make fresh skin grow over the cuts. It works rather quickly as well. Keep that in mind should you ever need to stop any bleeding in a hurried manner, " she turns to her husband, "Raise your arm, love, so that I can reach the one on your side."
Lucius lets out a hiss as she presses her paste covered fingers onto his first gash on his chest. I watch as she spreads the plant paste into the wounds and gently pats it in to finish. By the time she finishes with the last gash, the first one is already looking like it is several days old.
Narcissa glances up from her work to meet her husband's eyes for a moment, "It doesn't prevent scarring but it does the healing job quick. Now we'll move to the nose. It can be solved easily with the Episky charm, but the snapping of bones back into place can be painful."
She pulls a vial out of her case. "I like to use a pain-relieving potion before I do anything concerning bones, especially on my family. Of course, Lucius will say he is tough and can take it, but I know he'd rather not whimper like a child in front of us both tonight," she says, smiling wickedly.
Lucius lets out a chuckle and he shakes his head before downing the potion.
"There are several types of pain-relieving potion that you can buy at any potions store, but your father makes one that I'm specifically fond of," she says, raising her wand.
"It's taken effect, love," Lucius says.
Narcissa flicks her wrist and mutters, "Episky!"
There is a crack and Lucius's nose looks like it should suppose to again. He didn't even flinch, so the potion must be good.
"Healing the ribs will be a bit advanced for you, but you'll learn the incantations eventually," she explains.
She waves her wand over Lucius's abdomen in a fluid pattern, speaking words that I recognize to be Latin. When she finishes, he takes a deep breath and smiles at her, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.
"Thanks to you I can breathe without pain again, my lovely wife."
Narcissa hums and then turns back to me, "You can clean all the blood with a simple cleaning charm."
She waves her wand and all the blood disappears from Lucius's face and torso, making him look as if he's just taken a shower.
"I hope that was at least a little enlightening for you?" she asks as she tucks her case away.
I nod, "It was. Thank you."
"Of course. Like I said, I'll teach you the incantations and such as well. I just thought this might be a good introduction. Your father is waiting for you downstairs."
I turn to leave, but a surge of bravery makes me stop and turn back around, "I probably shouldn't ask and you probably aren't going to tell me, but how exactly did you get all of those injuries?"
Lucius glances at Narcissa before sighing and rubbing his hands on his thighs.
"The Dark Lord is working on an operation that involves the Department of Mysteries within the Ministry of Magic. I was sent to retrieve a worker and bring him here in hopes of obtaining some information. He fought back when he learned where I was taking him," he explains.
"And the scream that Draco and I heard…was that?"
"He couldn't provide the information," Lucius mutters.
My heart drops into my stomach. I know for sure that there is a dead man downstairs now.
"Right. Well, thank you for being honest with me. Would you tell Draco I said goodnight please?"
Lucius nods at me and I go to meet my father downstairs, half filled with exhilaration, half filled with dread.
