A/N: In canon, Draco was all for the slaughtering of Muggleborns as long as he didn't have to do it himself. Yeah, he was rotten for wanting that, but at the same time I don't think the situation was quite "real" to him yet. Now that he's taking his own path and has seen the monster for himself, things are getting very real indeed, and Lucius will be able to do a lot more for him than just tell him to "keep his head down."
You might be wondering how Selwyn is connected to the Chamber and the basilisk, and who is writing in the diary since it was stolen from Ginevra. I think those questions will be answered in the next few chapters. In the meantime let's see if Lucius can pull the kids out of the fire, and find out more about Luna's magic!
duj: I thought it was important that somebody call Dumbledore on what he's doing and just exercise some oversight. Lucius could have done that in canon if he'd played it smarter. Maybe Draco putting himself in the line of fire will force his dad to do the right thing.
guest#8/Philkins27 (ch.11): Poor Sister. She's in a tough position here, trained to obey the Heir even though she dislikes him, but at the same time she has a soft spot for Draco. I'm surprised I've been able to update this story about once a week because I usually can't do that, but the plot and your feedback really help to keep it going.
gemsaysfeelings: For a story that started out as a crackfic more or less, the plot has become surprisingly complex. I'm glad you're enjoying it, because I am too.
Sunset Whispers: Summoning Lucius is a risk, but a necessary one. Dumbledore essentially has the kids at his mercy and will probably continue stalling them until he can stop the elves from apparating and successfully get into somebody's mind. If he finds out about the diary, their problems are just beginning.
ReadingnerdOtaku (ch.2/11): That line in Chapter 2 was inspired by a cutscene in one of my favourite video games, Radiata Stories. Jack Russell becomes a knight and then finds out he has to sleep in a tiny, filthy room in the castle basement. He screams in horror and his roommate, not batting an eye, says "when you're done with the death wails, come in and get changed." Now that the group has openly interfered with Selwyn and the basilisk, they're wading into deep waters and they need an adult to keep them from going under. In canon CoS, Harry didn't have that person. Draco, however ...
XII: The Light-Bearers
Draco was so relieved he wanted to rush over and hug his father for the second time that day. If only he could tell the man what was going on ... but as those grey eyes so much like his own took in the two house-elves, the frightened muggleborn girl standing next to them, and their obviously frazzled state, Draco could see he was connecting some of the dots. His gaze lingered a second longer on Ginevra, the very same girl to whom he'd slipped the diary. His impassive frown gave nothing away, but his eyes sparkled with complicity—you got to her too, did you?—and Draco nodded smugly in response.
His friends' reactions were not quite so enthusiastic. Luna was examining the man curiously as though she never saw him before in her life. Ginevra glared daggers as she remembered her family's last encounter with Lucius. Hermione wasn't thrilled to see him either, for the same reason.
Dumbledore arranged his features into a cordial smile, but the twinkles in his eyes had retired for the evening. "Ahh, Lucius. To what do we owe the honour of your visit? Is there a Board of Governors meeting I was not informed of? If so, I can only hope the other members are not too far behind you."
"The other board members are asleep in their homes," Lucius drawled. His robes billowed as he swept around the table and took a seat directly opposite, positioning himself between the Headmaster and the children. "As I would be, had it not come to my attention that you were interrogating my son and three other students in the dead of night without witnesses."
"When my wards detect house-elves not in my employ apparating in and out of the school, and I find them in the kitchens with students after hours," Dumbledore said sportingly, hefting his cocoa, "My curiosity is naturally aroused."
What about when Dobby was feeding information to Saint Potter an hour ago? Draco thought, clenching his hands into fists behind his back. You certainly didn't bother intervening then, did you?
Lucius fingered his snake-head cane thoughtfully. "No doubt. My colleagues and I are well aware of the ... notable security breaches this school has endured. Of which four adolescents and two elves are almost certainly the least dangerous."
"But we must follow procedure, mustn't we Lucius? And now that you are here, I dare say a witness is no longer an issue. Perhaps you could even be of assistance in this matter."
Lucius glanced at his son. Draco shook his head slowly. The politician smirked like a cold draught as if he had just remembered something.
"Now you mention it, Professor, I believe I can ... though it causes me no small amount of embarrassment."
"You have learned how to cope with that, I think."
Ginevra eyed the two men and soaked up as much information as she could. It was plain to see they detested each other, yet they never let it show on their faces. There was no overt hostility. It was cloak-and-dagger politics; concealing what you really wanted to say behind decorum and polite words. She'd seen her parents do it with a few of her father's less favoured associates, but never so gracefully. It might be a skill worth learning.
"Tell me, Professor ... do you happen to read our official house newsletter?"
"But of course," Dumbledore replied, nodding in Luna's direction. "Mr. Harper is one of your classmates, no, Miss Lovegood? I make it a point to examine his work very closely. You may tell him that from me ... I'm sure he'd be excited to hear it."
"I doubt it, sir," Luna said dryly.
Lucius rolled his slate-grey eyes heavenward, as if imploring Salazar to preserve him from snakes so lacking in guile they didn't bother to be polite to nosy headmasters. Then he gathered himself, brushed some imaginary lint from the front of his immaculate robes, and proceeded to play everyone in the room like a fiddle.
"My point, sir, is that you no doubt saw their full report on the unfortunate Hallowe'en vandalism," he said with barely disguised pleasure that gave way to contempt as he gestured to Draco. "I fear that my son and Miss Lovegood took Mr. Harper's call for a truce with Gryffindor quite literally and, in ... associating ... with these other young ladies, were attempting to investigate the matter themselves. After curfew, no less. Draco mentioned this possibility in his last letter to me, but I believed he was joking. Evidently I was mistaken."
He affected a murderous look at his son. It was so convincing that it even gave Dumbledore pause. Draco, understanding his role immediately, played it to the hilt by backing up a step and almost tripping over Dobby.
"Evidently," said a startled Dumbledore, whose fun had been thoroughly spoiled now that Lucius was playing the bad (or rather, worse) cop. "However, things have changed since you and I were students here, and there is something to be said for cooperation between houses."
"Your sentiments are admirable, sir," Lucius said, in an indulgent moment that dripped with insincerity. "However, I fear that certain influences in this school are distracting the boy from his obligations. He has yet to learn the value of restraint. He had neither my consent in this ill-advised plan, nor my permission to use our house-elves. All I can do is extend my personal apology for his foolishness, and assure you that he will be disciplined ... "
Here he brought his walking-stick down on the stone floor with a sinister thud, as though he were barely restraining himself from physical violence.
" ... Accordingly."
"I do assure you, Lucius, that we shall take initiative in letting the punishment fit the crime," Dumbledore said firmly with a concerned glance at Draco. "Miss Weasley and Miss Granger, I shall require you to serve an hour of detention tomorrow evening with Professor Snape. As for young Mr. Malfoy and Miss Lovegood, you will serve two hours of detention on the same night ... in the Forbidden Forest. And, in the spirit of cooperation, fifty points shall be docked from both houses."
Hermione opened her mouth to object but was silenced by a nudge from Draco. Luna looked at Ginevra and put a finger to her lips.
"A wise decision, Headmaster," the dark wizard said grudgingly. His posture slowly relaxed. "In a situation like this, I believe a strong hand is needed. I do appreciate your willingness to consult me on this matter rather than using, shall we say, other means to discover the truth. I cannot count the number of times we on the Board of Governors have tried to fathom what you were thinking, in certain cases ... "
Dumbledore's raised eyebrow indicated he had not missed the challenge in that statement.
"But as you have just said yourself, we must follow procedure by respecting each other's privacy. Some might consider the alternative ... unseemly."
Clearly, unseemliness was a high crime in pure-blood society.
"True. Though others might simply consider it cunning," Dumbledore said smoothly. "I thank you for your input, Lucius. You've been most helpful in clearing up this matter."
Draco didn't have to fake his peaked, stricken expression at the prospect of another detention in those woods. But if it was necessary to disarm Dumbledore, then so be it. If the old man found out what had really happened his investigation would uncover the diary and the jig, as they said, would be up.
"You are welcome, Headmaster. Though I recognise the lateness of the hour, if you'd be so kind as to withhold your spell preventing house-elf apparition for a short while, I should like to escort these children back to their dorms to ensure that my dear son involves them in no further disasters."
"An admirable sentiment, though I'm sure you will understand if I summon a prefect to assist you. Not that I do not trust you with the children's safety, but it would be unfortunate if you were to take any wrong turns ... ahh." Dumbledore stood up to answer a firm knock on the door. "There he is now. Enter!"
A quiet, brown-haired, and fantastically dull prefect from Hufflepuff stepped in. The sight of Lucius seemed to unnerve him somewhat. Dumbledore introduced him as one Edmund Spiers.
"Please help Mr. Malfoy escort these children back to their respective common rooms and see to it that his house-elves apparate him safely out of Hogwarts," Dumbledore ordered, conveying his distrust of the man and saddling him with a half-blood chaperone in one fell swoop. "The wards being open to house-elves was an oversight on my part, one that shall be rectified in thirty minutes, so ... do make haste. Good night to you, Lucius."
The Malfoy men and their elves marched out of the kitchens behind Spiers, while the girls trailed nervously after them.
"Thank you," Draco whispered to his father.
"Never mind that," Lucius said in a low voice. "Before you explain what in Slytherin's name happened tonight, tell me: how much of this can we keep from the Gryffindors?"
"Only the book. The rest is out of the bag."
His father glowered. Clearly that was not the answer he wanted.
"Tonight could have gone so much worse than it did. Please, father ... trust me on this one."
Lucius nodded hesitantly. In full view of the girls, he unfastened the metal serpent head of his cane—which, they saw, was merely the handle of his elm wand. He waved it in a complicated pattern and cast a silent incantation. He gave his son an affectionate clap on the shoulder and spoke to the girls ... not kindly, but perhaps as politely as he had ever addressed a Weasley or a muggleborn in his life.
"A muffliato charm," he explained, returning the wand to its hiding place. "Mr. Spiers shall not clearly hear or remember anything we say while in his company, nor shall any other prying ears. We've much to discuss before I return to the Manor, and we need not attract any more attention than is necessary."
Luna nodded, Hermione gaped, and a sly smile crept over Ginevra's face.
"You were pretending back there, weren't you, Mr. Malfoy?" she said, unable to disguise her admiration. "You're not upset with Draco at all. You know what he's doing!"
"In the broad strokes, yes," he said blithely, motioning for them to keep up with Spiers so the boy didn't get suspicious. "Being scions of a great legacy gives us access to vast amounts of information. We have suspected for years that the Chamber of Secrets does in fact exist, and as a family we all agree that it would be unfortunate if any muggleborns today were to suffer for Salazar Slytherin's misguided actions."
Draco nodded firmly. "It's a long story, but the short version is that yes, the man did breed the creature we saw tonight and yes, he was out of his mind at the time."
"Pure-bloods we may be. Slytherins we may be, and quite proud to say so. But my own regrettable past is just that: past. And my son has no desire to repeat my mistakes. But as he does share my unfortunate habit of exaggerating his accomplishments, I think perhaps I should learn what happened tonight from you."
The two Gryffindors were still a tad intimidated. Ginevra's parents had warned her repeatedly never to speak to this man, and Hermione still wouldn't look him in the eye. Luna took the initiative.
"A pleasure to see you again, Mr. Malfoy," she curtsied, drawing surprised looks from the other girls. "Would you believe me if I said we just came within spitting distance of Salazar Slytherin's monster and lived?"
Ginevra and Hermione couldn't resist jumping in from there, and by the time they got close to Gryffindor Tower, the dark wizard had gotten an earful. He was still ruminating grimly over their brush with death when Ginevra remembered something else.
"Luna, what was that spell you used anyway? I saw that same light after the Quidditch game."
Luna's melancholy returned. She just shook her head and leaned against Draco, who was starting to realize that light had nothing to do with his father and everything to do with the diminutive girl beside him.
"I think it's a personal matter, girls. When she's ready," he told them.
Ginevra didn't pry into it any further. "Fair enough. I'm sorry if the question bothered you, Luna. I just wish we all had a secret weapon like that; Merlin knows we could use it in this place. That reminds me, Mr. Malfoy ... can't you do something about Dumbledore? I don't agree with you and your son about everything, but Draco is right when he talks about all the awful things that happen here on his watch, all the students he must have questioned this way over the years ... and we're the lucky ones! How many other children have parents on the board who could come to their rescue like you did?"
"Ginevra, I'm sure you're overreacting. With all the strange rumours going around about the Chamber, the Heir of Slytherin, and You-Know-Who coming back ... " Hermione glanced nervously at Mr. Malfoy as she said this, but got no reaction. "Professor Dumbledore has to be cautious. I don't agree with the legilimency, but it must be the only way he can get information sometimes."
"He wouldn't have that problem if the students here really trusted him, now would he, Hermione?" Draco chimed in—and his casual use of her first name did get a reaction from Lucius, which he tried his best to ignore. "But they don't, and with good reason."
Though Luna's shoulders sagged with exhaustion from the mysterious spell she had cast, there was enough spark left in her eyes to challenge Hermione. "It's muggleborn you are, Granger, and so you may not know the ins and outs of magical politics, but you'll be dealing with them all your life. Would you rather deal with a politician who tells you what he is, like Mr. Malfoy? Or one who hides away in a castle behind the title of Headmaster?"
"Luna, you know very well I'm willing to help as it doesn't involve betraying my friends. But I'm not going to participate in a plot to unseat Professor Dumbledore just because I'm an adjutant of the Malfoys!"
Lucius' eyes grew wide as dollars at the first sentence; at the second, he sagged so heavily on his walking-stick that he nearly fell.
"Both of you, calm down!" said a slightly alarmed Draco. "Luna, it's not fair to insist that Hermione make a decision before she has all the information she needs. Father and I will fill her in when we get a chance. And Hermione, you will not address a pure-blood Slytherin by her given name again. Understood?"
"But ... "
"Understood, Hermione?" Draco caught her eye and jerked his head toward Lucius.
Realising that Draco had to toe the line with his father present, she swallowed her pride. "Yes, Lord Malfoy."
"About Selwyn, sir," Ginevra said, breaking the awkward silence that followed. "The prefect?"
"What of him, Miss Weasley?"
"I was hiding in the corridor, listening when he ordered Hermione to go down the hall where the monster came from. I'm not saying he's the Heir, but it seems as good a place as any to start. Please find out everything you can about him."
He nodded curtly. "I shall do so. My next letter to Draco will be enchanted with a different message for each of you, one that no one else will be able to read without permission. A tried but true method of exchanging information secretly, not to mention saving parchment."
"I should like to learn that someday, sir," Hermione said politely.
"You all shall learn many things. Though you must forgive me if at times I seem reluctant to volunteer information. It is, after all, anathema to many Slytherins. And it is the same reason I oppose the Headmaster's methods of information-gathering. The privacy of one's thoughts should always be respected."
They stopped close to the Gryffindor common room.
"Mr. Malfoy?" Ginevra was compelled to ask before she and Hermione went in. He regarded her cagily, for it was in her eyes that curiosity burned brightest. "How does a Slytherin think?"
"All Slytherins think differently, being individuals," Lucius replied. "And our house makes more allowances for that than any other. A better question would be, what do all Slytherins have in common? And the answer would be moral flexibility. If I choose to do something, I can make it right in my own mind. I do not need to make it right in someone else's ... except, perhaps, for my lady wife's ... because I am not trying to make them happy. By serving my own interests, I serve Slytherin interests. This is no doubt why my son offered adjutancy to Miss Granger without consulting me—by which I am surprised, though not offended ... "
Hermione relaxed a little.
" ... And it's the same reason some other Slytherin is facilitating the targeting of muggleborns by Salazar's monster. Because it serves their interests. For various reasons, it does not serve ours. This will be a struggle, but I have every confidence that we shall prevail. We shall waste no time in developing a more comprehensive plan to protect muggleborn students at this school. In that, all of you will have my support."
As he already had a plan with Draco, Luna, and Xeno, he said this mainly for the lions' benefit. The girls politely said goodnight and ran off to the Fat Lady's portrait while Edmund Spiers, oblivious to everything they'd been saying, led the Slytherins back to the dungeons.
"Our thirty minutes are nearly gone," said Lucius. "Both of you have done brilliantly. But remember that you are not Gryffindors. Attempting a rescue in person was unspeakably dangerous and, Draco, I advise you not to tell your mother about it lest she kill the both of us with her bare hands. Now that Dumbledore will be barring house-elf apparition, your options will be limited. I made myself look like a monster tonight so that you and your friends would seem innocent by contrast. Do not arouse the Headmaster's suspicions again. Do not tell the Weasley girl too much, and keep the Granger girl close to you. She is no longer safe in the corridors, especially at night. Use every contact you have to spread that recommendation to the other muggleborns here as well, without drawing unnecessary attention to Slytherin. Their lives may depend on it. And on a lighter note ... "
The snakes looked up expectantly.
"I have it on good authority that Professor Lockhart shall be starting a Duelling Club during this term. The Headmaster is minded to delay it until December for reasons that escape me now, but I believe the Board can exert enough pressure to get the date moved up. Tell your housemates so that they will have time to prepare. Do Slytherin proud. And son, while we still have much to discuss about your hiring an adjutant among other things ... it is clear to me that you are taking your responsibilities far more seriously this year—academically, socially, and otherwise. Do not stop."
Draco nodded fiercely, blinking tears out of his eyes.
He turned to the elves and took their hands, glancing at Dobby's bandaged fingers. "Dobby, when we get home we must have a talk about using the iron for ironing. If you are so keen to punish yourself, you might consider listening to your mistress' singing."
Dobby looked embarrassed; Bitsy snorted with laughter. A moment later, all three of them were gone.
Hermione Granger was having the strangest weekend of her entire life.
Yesterday her house lost its first Quidditch game with Harry as the seeker, Draco Malfoy and his friends saved her life, and she might have come face to face with the Heir of Slytherin. Today she was brewing an illegal potion in a bathroom stall.
Why was she brewing an illegal potion in a bathroom stall? Because Potter and Weasley, despite the hints she had been dropping for a few weeks now, insisted on believing Draco was the heir and infiltrating the Slytherin common room to confirm it. Hermione had doubted this theory from the start, and after the events of last night it seemed patently ridiculous. But Moste Potente Potions was already checked out from the library's Restricted Section, the ingredients already stolen, the potion already brewing, and ... well, it just felt good to have her friends appreciate her for something.
But it was still bloody ridiculous.
"You know what I think?" Weasley was saying as he deposited dead lacewings on top of leeches with surprising skill. He was actually a decent student when he tried, which wasn't nearly often enough. "I think Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber himself when he was at school, and now his precious little son has inherited the job!"
I think you two are letting your immature schoolboy feud distort your view of reality. Honestly, Draco is so busy leading his house and doing the right thing for once that he hardly cares about you anymore!
"We just need to know what kind of monster it is and how it's getting around before a student gets attacked," Potter said confidently.
A student's already been attacked! It's a giant snake, for crying out loud! I just need to get back into the Restricted Section and find out what kind of monster that is!
Hermione wanted to tell them. She ached to tell them what happened to her last night, to show the boys how much more useful she could be, and she couldn't. She had signed an agreement with Draco that she had every intention of honouring, and so she sat like a good little girl and helped them brew the polyjuice. Maybe sneaking into the dungeons would still be useful if it meant getting dirt on Selwyn. But she was still frustrated. Her commitment to scholarship and refusal to condemn Slytherin were making her the third wheel in the Golden Trio.
"Don't you think it's strange how Mrs. Norris hasn't improved at all since Halloween?" she remarked in an effort to drop them another hint. "It's just as if she were scared stiff, like she saw something so awful she couldn't move. It must have been something quite large, I think. I've read all about oversize creatures and the magical world is full of them: the squid in the Black Lake, grubs, snakes ... "
"You read too much, Hermione," Weasley said rudely. He crumpled up the lacewing bag and turned to talk to Potter.
She felt a little stab of pain. It was the latest of many. Why did he always have to hurt her? And why didn't Potter ever stop him?
After last year's madness, it was Draco's personal opinion that whoever thought the Forbidden Forest was a proper place to have students serve detention should be Avara Kedavra'd by his crazy Aunt Bellatrix and left to rot there. It just might elevate the average intelligence level of the magical gene pool.
Not that he was scared of the place. Oh, no. He was terrified! He was unlikely to run into You-Know-Who again, but there were plenty of other creatures in there too horrible to describe. Luna didn't seem excited either as the two of them followed Hagrid into the forest. The burly, towering gamekeeper appeared highly suspicious of both children and gruffly told them they were going to search for signs of blood-sucking bugbears. The creatures were not dangerous to humans, but were known for targeting livestock, especially chickens.
"Lost one rooster ter them bugbears already, we 'ave," he growled. "At least I think it was them. Go on then, leg it. Moonlight's wasting."
Draco saved himself the trouble of telling the great oaf that this was an incredibly dangerous and irresponsible way to punish misbehaving students; he'd tried that a year ago and it hadn't done any good. Without a word he followed at Luna's side, and the Forest soon enveloped them in its gnarled embrace. His winter cloak was an elegant black with green lining while hers was violet, an old tatty thing that had likely belonged to her mother; he felt colder just looking at her. At least they had the moon to guide them; it was nearly full, its light uncannily similar to what Luna's wand had produced the other day. She'd been despondent and out of sorts ever since. He didn't understand why, but he felt that he had to find out after all that had happened between them. If she didn't want him to care, then she shouldn't have dropped into his life and changed everything round. The person he remembered being the last time he walked among these trees seemed like a stranger now; cruel, callous, closed-minded.
Truthfully part of him did miss bullying and belittling inferior students on a regular basis, but with all that was going on it just wasn't worth the hassle anymore. Still he didn't mind taking a chunk out of Potter when the opportunity fell into his lap, nor did Luna mind joining in. Was she taking a cue from him or she did she have her own reasons to despise the tousle-haired glory hound? What exactly was the nature of their relationship, anyway? Who was in charge? Who was setting the pace? On the surface it appeared to be him; she deferred to his surname, made him tea and acted the part of a pure-blood witch. Beneath the surface it was murky. Inside of Luna was something not quite of this world, a spirit that would never bow to his will and was beyond his control. Somewhere along the way, Draco accepted that.
He just hoped she wasn't beyond his help.
When the half-giant inevitably split up from them with some deranged excuse about covering more ground, he dove into curiosity as a refuge from his fear. He and Luna never really had a proper sit-down and told each other about themselves, did they? With his previous friends it was unnecessary; they all grew up together. Luna was familiar enough with his family history through Xeno, and her penetrating intuition took care of the rest. Still ... now that they were alone again, maybe if he opened up to her a little, she would do the same for him. He decided to go about it Luna-style and just plunge right in.
"My father told me he was proud of me yesterday," he said. "After the game. I think that means more to me than anything. It was all I ever wanted when I was younger, just to make him proud. To attend his school and be sorted into his house, prove worthy of his name. He's everything I wanted to be."
She leaned forward, her attention completely undivided. He would have been unnerved by her stare if he didn't know her.
"But this year ... it's the first time I've really started to think. I think some muggleborns really are useful, and that even some blood traitors can be redeemed, and ... well, that being different is all right. I suppose because I'm different now, thanks to you. You changed everything. It's hard to even imagine how this year would have gone if I never met you. But I suppose I would have stopped those infernal dreams without finding out what they meant, and I'd still want to do away with all the mudbloods, and I wouldn't have given father's letters about the diary a second thought ... and who knows what else? The point is, I'm glad I met you, Luna. I thought it was a disgrace when you were sorted here, did you know?"
"Yes," she said, untroubled. "I knew what you thought of me."
He let out a small cough of embarrassment. "Well, I was wrong. You're everything a Slytherin should be and more. And I'm proud to call you my friend."
Her fingertips rested briefly on his hand. "As I am proud to call you mine."
"Why did you approach us that day? On the train?"
She looked up, thinking hard. "I remember I was sitting with Ginevra at first, but she was tired and fell asleep very soon. Then her brothers were popping in and out all the time, which quite disturbed the peace. I was looking for an empty compartment, for I didn't know anyone else and I wanted a quiet place to read The Quibbler. When I saw you ... "
Luna fell silent for what seemed like a long time.
"To be quite honest, I'd always wanted to meet a veela in the flesh. That was the reason I came into your compartment."
He had to chuckle at that. "Oh, Merlin. Really?"
"I soon realised daddy was mistaken about the Malfoys' ancestry, because you had no obvious allure. But there was something that drew me, all the same, and I wanted to find out what you were truly like. How far I could push you. How far I could trust you."
"I see. Well, what's the verdict?" he tried to sound nonchalant, but his eyes must have given him away.
Luna leaned forward, straining to see something through the trees, and nodded as if she'd come to an important decision. She took Draco's hand and made for a small clearing nearby. He followed without question.
"There it is," she said, pointing straight ahead of them.
Draco looked, but the clearing was empty. "You know I don't always see the things you do, Luna."
"For a certain reason, this time," she said solemnly.
She led him into the clearing and lifted her hand, and Draco could have sworn it came to rest on something. There was an almost inaudible thunk that he wouldn't have heard if not for the eerie silence of the woods. At first he thought he'd imagined it, but then Luna moved her hand as if she were petting something and the gentle scrape, scrape was unmistakable then.
"Touch him. He won't mind."
Draco's hand quivered as she took it and extended it into thin air, and he brushed against something hard and cold and moving, and he barely swallowed a scream as he drew back.
"He won't hurt you. You hear lots of stories but they never hurt anyone, really. I've been here before, and they've been nothing but kind to me."
"What won't hurt me? What is it?" he demanded. He could still feel the chill on his fingertips.
"A thestral, of course."
His blood ran cold in the moonlight. Icarus Nott had taught him all about thestrals. Cursed beings, bringers of ruin; creatures visible only to those who had suffered grave misfortune, who fed on grief and sorrow just as the dementors of Azkaban Prison fed on happiness. And he had touched one.
"I know what you're thinking. But you're wrong. They're not evil, Draco."
"Everyone says they are," he insisted, his voice a tight rasp of fear. He crouched unsteadily on the forest floor. He wanted to run, but he couldn't leave her.
Luna knelt beside him and placed a comforting hand on his back. "Not long ago, I met a creature with a very dark reputation. Something that everyone warned me was bad, and so I should stay away from it. But they were wrong. He is my best friend now."
He managed a timid smile.
"Besides, even if you both are as evil as they say, then you shall get on quite well indeed."
Gradually, she coaxed him to his feet and he extended his hand again. The thestral's coat was short and rough with cold bone underneath. It nuzzled him gently, snorting, and he realised this must be the snout. He was reaching as high as he could to find its head. This thing must be huge, much larger than a normal horse.
"In the magical world, even the things most feared and forbidden may be a useful part of the whole. It was these creatures that pulled your carriages on the way to the school."
"What?!" he hissed, aghast. "They exposed children to these things?"
"Be nice, Malfoy. You'll hurt his feelings. They can't help how they look, or that most wizards and witches can't see them at all. Only those who have seen someone die, so they say."
Draco looked at her.
"Yes," she said, though he hadn't asked. Her voice had become quiet, breathy, the words forming in a soft haze. She was shielding herself, putting the memory at a safe distance before she revealed it. "My mother, a week before my ninth birthday."
Her words felt like a blow to the chest. He had known her mother was dead; he never asked how she died, not wanting to bring back painful memories. But to see it happen, out of nowhere ... for a moment he allowed himself to imagine his own mother dying in front of him, and even the next breath he took was painful. Draco didn't know if he could withstand something like that.
He saw tears on Luna's pale cheeks. They were involuntary, unnoticed, her body and her conscious mind as far apart as she could push them. Within that void was grief such as he had never known, tangible and suffocating.
"Daddy always said it was too dangerous. She was experimenting, you see, with magic. A sort no one else had bothered with, at least not for a long time, for they couldn't control it. As she could not, in the end. But she shared it with me, before that. Her notes. Her incantations. I still have the practise wand I used to learn them."
Now it began to dawn on him. His skin crawled, not from the thestral this time.
"I broke my promise," she continued, and there was finally a hitch in her voice. "That I made to daddy, never to use her magic again. For her memory. For my own safety. But it's a Slytherin I am, Draco, as you say. And I broke that promise, for one can never trust a snake."
She laughed. But it was a bitter, empty sound this time, coming out in shivers as she crossed her arms over her chest and massaged her shoulders. It made her sound far older than her years.
He wanted to say something, to tell her she'd used it accidentally the first time, in defense of somebody's life the second, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. Hermione could be reasoned with. Luna could not. Draco removed his winter cloak and draped it over her shoulders. He held her in silence.
Gentle hands shook him awake the next morning. Draco's head tossed on the pillow as his eyes fluttered open.
She was sitting at the edge of the bed, already showered and dressed. The lights in the first-year boys' dormitory were getting brighter. Their detention had passed without incident, and another morning had come. He counted himself lucky.
He pushed himself up on his elbows. "What time is it? They don't know you slept in here, do they?"
"Six-thirty. And, no."
They relaxed. The silence was familiar, even comfortable now. It was the best Draco had slept since the common room sofa.
He sat up next to her and began fastening her green and silver tie. He knew she was all right again when she stared leisurely off into space and began to sing. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts, teach me something please ... all who oppose the Malfoys and Lovegoods, begging on their knees ... "
She always knew how to make him smile. He finished her tie and stepped back.
"Thank you for listening to me," she said. "Draco."
He could feel his face burning. He watched her as she left the room, taking in every flowing shift of her scraggly hair and swish of her robe about her ankles. Something stirred inside of him then, a brief and fervid interest that he never before associated with her; then it had passed. He shook it off and began looking around for his shoes.
The Bad Guys Win: Lionhearts Broken, 210-70
by Terence Higgs
If Saturday's classic showdown is any indication where Slytherin's team is headed, then this reporter will never complain about losing his starting job to Draco Malfoy again.
"But he's a Malfoy, he's already got everything, why should he have the seeker position too?" asked Dean Thomas (Gryffindor, 2nd year) before the game. Now we have the answer: because he flies like the wind, he can take out Harry Potter and announcer Lee Jordan in one play without drawing a foul, and even in a tough spot he has something up his sleeve: namely the snitch.
Slytherin's dramatic win ended an inspired comeback by the battered Gryffindors, who clawed their way back from a 0-60 deficit ...
—
The Girl Who Saved the Boy Who Lived?
by Daphne Greengrass
Darlings, you all know that gossip is my business. And at Hogwarts, business is always good. So what happened in the lions/snakes Quidditch game to set our tongues wagging besides the lions' comeback, Draco Malfoy's heroic finish, and the highly eccentric commentary of backup announcer Luna Lovegood?
A quiet wallflower from Slytherin saved Harry Potter's life, that's what!
It seems that not even one of the game's bludgers could resist the opportunity to meet Hogwarts' favourite (?) celebrity. It was after him for half the game, narrowly missing him on a few occasions, and would have finished him after his crash if not for the quick thinking of second-year Sophie Roper who used her heavy bookbag to contain the bludger after it smashed through a nearby bench.
Potter, unsurprisingly, has not thanked her yet ...
—
Letters to the Editor
The Headmaster used legilimency on my girlfriend a few years ago. I can't prove it and neither could she, but I believe it. One day she's a happy, normal student who gets called into his office because of some stupid stuff her friends in another house did, the next she's crying and skipping class and trying to learn occlumency. It wasn't hard to figure out what happened.
—
I am a graduate of Hogwarts and a Gryffindor, and I will not allow my child to attend this school while Albus Dumbledore is Headmaster. He has been doing things like this for years and no one is stopping him.
—
I am writing this letter anonymously. I've been at Hogwarts for a while and no, I am not a Slytherin. Six years ago, there was a rash of thefts in my house. It seemed like items were disappearing from dorm rooms every day. I was friends with some older students who had graduated the year before and had a reputation for making trouble. Instead of questioning everybody involved, Albus Dumbledore called me into his office alone and used legilimency on me without my permission to find out if I was the thief. (I was not.) It was the most humiliating thing that ever happened to me, knowing that he was invading my mind and I couldn't keep him out. Only my closest friends know about it. As a historical figure, he will always have my admiration; as a person, he will never have my trust again.
Dumbledore excused himself from high table early that morning.
"It's become quite serious, hasn't it?" said Pansy.
"You have no idea," Draco answered.
Splat.
"Frye told me they got far more letters than they could print," said Blaise, who was drowsily reading the newest issue of The Quibbler and scribbling notes in the margins. "They added an extra page just to fit all the best ones."
Splat.
"So that's why he's been strutting around like a peacock lately," Pansy giggled. "Alexandra doesn't look nearly as happy, does she?"
Crabbe swallowed a huge bite of his biscuits and gravy. "She's all at sixes and sevens thinking they'll shut the newsletter down now."
"They can't do that!" Goyle protested. "Blimey! You and I won't have nothin' to read."
Splat.
Sophie Roper bit her lip as she read the letters section for herself. "It wouldn't surprise me. Dumbledore has stayed Headmaster because of his sterling reputation and ability to keep himself above the fray."
"And because Fudge is so afraid of the old codger taking his job that he'll do anything to keep him here. Right, Luna?" Morag Ollivander said. As the famous wandmaker was her great-uncle, she had seen the Minister of Magic several times and come away unimpressed.
"Quite right, Ollivander."
Splat.
"Fudge is just the sort of leader the magical world deserves, if you ask me," sneered Theodore from a few seats away, looking up and down the table and seeking as much attention as he could get. He'd been driving everyone half-mad lately. "He's a reflection of us: scared and weak. Only purification can make us strong again!"
Selwyn's approving smile went unnoticed by almost everyone.
Splat.
Draco blinked. What in blazes was that sound? He looked to his right, where Pansy and the Carrow twins were snickering and whispering to each other, then to his left where Luna was holding a small red bottle of hot sauce upside down and splashing it liberally on Theodore's scrambled eggs. The boy had been too busy ranting about blood purity to even notice what she was doing, and it helped that the sauce was coming out of the bottle completely invisible. Who'd helped her pull that one off? Slytherins were not known for their sense of humour. He glanced around and saw Ginevra, younger sister to Hogwarts' two most notorious pranksters, watching with delighted anticipation from the other side of the hall. When she noticed Draco looking, she gave him a thumbs-up. Oh, dear.
Seeing that no one was responding to him, Theodore irritably took a forkful of eggs and jammed them into his mouth. Two seconds later he went scarlet and spit them violently out on the plate, clamping both hands over his throat.
"Would that be purification by fire, Theodore?" Draco said loudly, and the rest of the table fell out laughing. Luna secreted the bottle away before Theodore could see it.
The very next day, the great grey owl Michtam dropped off Lucius' letter to Draco. It was eventually shared with Luna, Ginevra, and Hermione.
Dear Son,
My findings on young Mr. Selwyn and his family shall be disclosed in Miss Weasley's version of my letter. She must be holding the parchment in order for you to see them.
Your newsletter's publishing of the legilimency accounts may be problematic. The allegations have become public and Dumbledore is coming under scrutiny from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Rita Skeeter, that tragic excuse for a witch from the Daily Profit—the Daily Prophet, excuse my literary slip of the tongue—is rumoured to be snooping around Hogwarts hoping to get quotes from students. Tell her nothing. She will find plenty of willing sources elsewhere.
Dumbledore's supporters are petitioning to ban the Slytherin Scrawl. He is something akin to a religious leader to many wizards. They assume he can do no wrong and their childish insistence on "hexing the messenger," as I saw a former boss of mine do too many times, makes them dangerous. Be on your guard.
Fortunately, we on the Board of Governors have succeeded in convincing Dumbledore to approve Professor Lockhart's Duelling Club for a Thursday, November 20th launch. Prepare yourself.
Do stay warm, and tell your mother and I about the precautions you have taken to shield muggleborns. I believe she supports you even more enthusiastically than I, and she was positively delighted when she learned you had offered adjutancy to the smartest muggleborn student in your year. She always took a more benevolent stance.
With Love,
Your Father
—
Dear Miss Lovegood,
You shall no doubt be proud to learn that I greatly underestimated your father. When he learned that we had not invited him to our annual society Christmas party—an innocent oversight on Narcissa's part, I am sure—he threatened not to share his famous Dirigible Plum Pudding with me. Needless to say, we rectified the error as soon as possible and we look forward to seeing you during the holidays.
Though I am sure your father has mentioned this to you, I was pleased to hear that he is launching his own investigation of the Headmaster's activities. No doubt he will uncover a side of that story that is hidden from all others.
I must admit that you were quite correct when you proposed the muggle corporate strategy of 'damage control'. We have thus far been able to contain a potential disaster, portray our house in the best light possible, and investigate suspects. See Ginevra's version of this letter for further details on this. For one so young, you have a keen mind for politics. While I encourage you to continue the search for the crinkle-horned schnozzork and the blubbering hamdingers, you may have a future in the Ministry as well.
Best Regards,
Lucius Malfoy
—
Dear Miss Weasley,
Greetings. My son has warned me that you cannot abide formalities, so I shall cut to the chase. You have the potential to become a very powerful witch, and you know how to ask the right questions. Allow me to apologise for making such a poor first impression on you during our first meeting at the Diagon Alley bookstore.
While no one will be able to read what I've written here without your consent, I urge you not to let the rest of your family discover that we have been in contact. I doubt they would understand. Your father and I have never been on good terms.
Now, to your questions about young Richard Selwyn. He is a seventh-year prefect who turned 17 years old in October. His family is a fairly prestigious one in pure-blood society; not as wealthy or distinguished as the Malfoys, Parkinsons, or Blacks, but respectable. My son tells me he is romantically involved with fellow seventh-year prefect Gemma Farley. He is one of the strongest students in his year and is studying for his NEWTs, particularly in Charms.
But that's not what you truly want to know, Miss Weasley. You want to know whether he spends his time in suspicious company, has a history of violence, and is a dark wizard in the making. If so, he is disguising his true nature quite well. His disciplinary record at Hogwarts is spotless save for a few boyish pranks in his early years. I would go further: he takes great care to keep his nose clean, figuratively and literally (Draco tells me many Slytherins can attest to his peculiar fixation on hygiene).
Nevertheless, his role in Miss Granger's encounter last Saturday is enough to arouse suspicion. Under no circumstances should you speak to him or confront him directly; he is a proficient duellist and stronger than all of you put together. I shall arrange to have the boy watched closely. If he does have something to do with the monster and the Chamber, we shall know about it soon.
Please allow Draco, Miss Lovegood, and Miss Granger to read your version of this letter, as circumstances permit.
Regards,
Lucius Malfoy
—
To Miss Granger,
I shall make this brief. While you may read my full report on the Selwyn boy in Miss Weasley's version, I urge you not to investigate him yourself. His academic record is beyond reproach, particularly in the area of Charms, and he would be a most dangerous adversary.
Instead, I recommend that you go about your life as normal and not reveal your employment with us to any of your housemates. My son will be using his contacts at Hogwarts to make the rumour mill work in our favour for once by spreading the word that muggleborn students should never walk the corridors alone, especially at night. Though even Draco cannot tell me where he gets all of his information, he is convinced that the creature is capable of killing with a mere glance. This should be of great help in narrowing down the possibilities as to the nature of the beast.
Another matter I invite you to research is that the Chamber was opened at least once, some decades ago before my time at Hogwarts, and a muggleborn was killed. Few people remember it, as the matter was quickly hushed up by then-Headmaster Armando Dippet and my predecessors on the board.
Investigate this matter carefully, and be warned: you may be very disturbed by what you find. Dippet and the Ministry's 'investigation', as they called it, was anything but thorough.
If resources at Hogwarts prove insufficient or inaccessible, do let me know. Our libraries at Malfoy Manor (there are two) are among the largest in the wizarding world. Do tell Draco if you wish to schedule a visit over the holidays.
Lord Lucius Malfoy
Chairman, Hogwarts Board of Governors
"Young lady," the Bloody Baron said severely, "you ought to be spanked."
Ginevra answered him with a rude noise and leaned back against the wall of the storage room. This part of the Astronomy Tower was kept locked when not in use, but the number of alternate routes revealed on the Marauders' Map was vast, and neither locks nor walls were proof against Slytherin's house ghost.
"It was just a little jaunt through the corridors, Baron! No one got hurt. Even our detention with Snape wasn't all that bad. I think he likes me, not that he'd ever say so. He partners me with Luna all the time now, I think because we brew the best potions in our class. Of course he tried to give Hermione more work than me, but then she is a Gryffindor and a mudbl—" the redhead stiffened and clapped her hand to her mouth. "Oh Merlin, I can't believe I almost said that. My parents would cook me for dinner if they heard! I think you're a bad influence on me."
The Baron laughed softly, a low and terrible sound that would have frightened many Slytherins. "I assure you that is the least of the epithets I've heard in nine hundred years. As I was saying, you should be ashamed for exposing yourself to that kind of danger. Unless you plan on becoming Hogwarts' newest ghost, I suggest you be more careful in future."
Ginevra looked sideways at him. "You were worried about me, weren't you?"
He looked away and scowled. "Silence, flesh-bag."
"No-breath."
"Walking cesspool."
"Parasite."
"You will not be investigating Richard Selwyn," he said abruptly.
Ginevra's eyes glittered. "I'll do what I want to do."
"I have seen him, Ginevra, doing and saying things that would scar you for life. The boy puts up a good front but he is extremely zealous, to the point of being unstable. He reminds me of myself as a young man," the ghost said, smiling with ironic fondness. "Mudbloods and 'traitors', as he sees them, are worthless. If you challenge him, he shall murder you twice before you hit the ground and enjoy it. I, on the other hand, who can not die again ... "
She took a deep breath and held it.
"Who's to say what I might uncover on your behalf? To say nothing of the Chamber, if indeed there is one. Allow me to see to the matter. For a small recompense, that is ... "
"What is it?" she asked, folding her arms.
"As a young man, I availed myself of many delicious foods here at Hogwarts. Alas, I have not tasted in nearly a thousand years, and any spirit will tell you that is the thing they miss the most about living. Well, that and a few other things you'll learn about when you're older."
Ginevra laughed out loud. "When I'm ... oh, come off it, Baron. I'm eleven, not six."
"Times truly have changed," he muttered under his breath. "Yes, well, if I may continue. You tell me you are getting to know the Malfoys? Even in my time, they were one of the darkest and most resourceful magical families in Britain. If anyone knows how to craft a confection that ghosts can taste ... they would be the ones."
She thought of the possibilities. "Yes, I suppose they would be. Very well. I'll see what I can do."
"In that case ... so shall I."
"Oh, Baron, thank you!" Her smile was so bright it sparkled. She quickly said goodbye and jogged back to her dorm, trying to contain her mirth. Who would have thought the most feared ghost at Hogwarts had a sweet tooth?
A week later, the school was still free of any muggleborn casualties. Justin Finch-Fletchley, or Flinchey as he was known behind his back, never learned how close he came to death on the way back from astronomy one night. Fortunately Sister warned Draco in another dream and Luna's magic worked just as it had before, rousing Ginevra from a fitful sleep-which was fortunate, as the anti-spirit wards on the dorms and common areas prevented the Baron from warning her. Thanks to the Map (which now helpfully identified the monster as 'Sister'), she and the Baron got to Flinchey before Draco and Luna could. The ghost wasted no time jumping out at him with a shriek, causing him to run screaming down the Tower stairs before the great serpent could reach him. Hermione continued to help but was unable to procure another pass to the Restricted Section from Lockhart; apparently Madam Pince had become suspicious and warned him not to hand out any more.
Luna was very secretive about the nature and capabilities of light magic, as she called it. Though she still looked pained and sometimes dropped her wand in fright on the rare occasions when it activated, Draco felt she was beginning to accept it as a necessary evil. She could not explain the connection it had forged between the three of them, and they were still wondering about it when Thursday, November 20th arrived.
Draco and Luna were walking across the Great Hall to the kitchens, where they took the occasional afternoon tea and Draco learned more about house-elves and their lives than he ever cared to know, when they noticed a huge sheaf of parchment posted on the wall. In sparkling gold ink, it proclaimed:
DEFENSE AGAINST THE DARK ARTS PROFESSOR AND VANQUISHER OF EVIL EXTRAORDINAIRE GILDEROY LOCKHART PRESENTS
A GILDEROY LOCKHART PRODUCTION
STARRING WINNER OF WITCH WEEKLY'S MOST CHARMING SMILE AWARD GILDEROY LOCKHART
DIRECTED AND TAUGHT BY THE—
"Oh, get to the point, you great ponce!" Draco cried disgustedly.
"Look, near the bottom," said Luna.
THE OFFICIAL GILDEROY LOCKHART DUELLING CLUB OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND LOCKHARTRY
DEBUTING TONIGHT IN THE GREAT HALL, EIGHT O'CLOCK
Next to this on the noticeboard was another sheet of paper (as Lockhart had run out of room on the first one) where applicants could write their names. Many students had already volunteered including the Golden Trio, Theodore, Selwyn, and Ginevra. Pansy had written her name in sprawling, vicious cursive with pale and venomous-looking green ink.
"What say you, Lady Lovegood?" Draco queried in an exaggerated version of his familiar drawl. "Let us make some people beg tonight, wot wot?"
Luna responded mischievously in similar fashion. "Why, my dear Lord Malfoy ... I thought you would never ask."
They devoted the tea-time to practising their spells.
