Chapter 13 – A Feast in Your Honor
Harry made the other occupants of the compartment leave when the train reached the station. Hermione was already outside, helping Hagrid with the first years. When Harry was sure that everyone had left, he sat and waited for Madame Pomfrey's reply by Patronus. A few seconds later, a bright turtledove appeared and said, "Bring him straight up."
Calling to Dobby, he took a hold of his charge and disappeared.
In the Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfrey was waiting for Harry to bring Draco Malfoy. She idly wondered how much hell the Malfoy boy would raise when he discovered he had been brought there by his enemy and chuckled to herself. It was while she was enjoying imagining the look on the pale boy's face that Harry Potter appeared. Or maybe that should be Lord Potter, now, she reflected.
"What happened, Lord Potter?" she asked, as the Gryffindor gently placed the Slytherin on the far bed.
Harry frowned. What was more, he was frowning at her! Before she could check him, he said, "Madame Pomfrey, you have healed me in every year that I have been here. You fed me Skelgrow in my second year. More than many other professors in this castle, I may have met you most often, considering how often I have seen the inside on this place. You, at least, can just please call me Harry, cant you?"
Merlin! The look in those green eyes was enough to melt rock. Blinking away a sudden prickling in her eyes, Poppy Pomfrey nodded and smiled at the young man before her, sensing a change that went deeper than just his name. 'Very well, Harry," she smiled at the light in his eyes and the smile that swept across his young face. "As long as I don't find you in here more than normal… and if you call me Poppy. I would say you've earned that right."
She watched the boy nod and bow cheekily, "Agreed."
"Now, tell me what happened to Mr. Malfoy here," she asked, becoming all business again.
Harry related the events in the train and said, "I don't think she meant to hit him quite so hard. I think she was just concerned about how it would affect me. But it was the fall that hurt him more, I guess. He hasn't woken up since he passed out," he finished, watching Poppy casting several diagnostic spells over Malfoy.
"Well, he hasn't suffered any head injury, at least not on the surface, no broken bones. Lets check the rest of him." She turned to Harry. "Would you mind helping, Harry? I know you don't like each other."
"I'll help, Poppy," answered Harry as he moved forward to help the medi-witch with changing the boy's robes and put him into a hospital gown. "I'm willing to put the hate behind me now, if he will. I've had enough of it."
"You've grown up," commented the witch softly.
"Seeing Voldemort being reborn will do that to you," said Harry nonchalantly.
There was nothing else to be said. Together, they worked in tandem, in silence. But when they removed the proud Slytherin's robes, Poppy Pomfrey gave a gasp of shock and Harry turned a little green. Draco Malfoy's face was peaceful, marred only by the grimace of pain. Pain caused by the ropy scars and fresh tears that were still bleeding. Sensing a presence behind him, Harry turned to see Hermione there, her hand on her mouth, eyes wide and misty. She stared at the abused body before her, then turned to Harry. "I didn't do that, did I, Harry?"
"No, Mione. You didn't hurt him. This was done by Lucius Malfoy, Draco's father." He put his arms around her and rubbed her back, subtly turning her away from the sight. "Go down to the feast, Hermione, I'll come down soon. Okay?"
Hermione nodded and straightened. She pointed her wand at Harry and incanted, "Imago Emino." An exact twin of Harry appeared where she pointed her wand and she directed the image to walk with her down to the feast. Turning at the door, she glanced at Draco, then looked at Harry, smiled and disappeared. Harry knew that smile hadn't reached her eyes.
"Dobby!" he called.
"Yes, Master?"
"Do you know what potions to use for Draco, or how to heal him?" asked Harry, pointing at the far bed.
Dobby pattered over and Madame Pomfrey watched as the little elf examined the son of the man he had once called Master. Dobby put his hands on Draco's forehead, his eyes tightly shut. A few minutes later, a little colour came into the pale cheeks and the waxen look faded along with the grimace. Dobby turned to Harry, "I will go and bring the required Potions for Master Draco. But I have healed his pain." A snap later, he was gone.
"That was an interesting solution, Harry. I would not have thought of it. Thank you."
"We cannot provide what we do not know of, Poppy. It was an interesting series of circumstances that brought Dobby into my path."
The medi-witch smiled wearily. "True, dear. I was there too."
Dobby popped in and set down a case of various potions and salves, beginning his treatment of Draco at once. Poppy and Harry exchanged a silent look full of words and meaning that each understood. Then Poppy nodded and Harry smiled. Turning back to her patient Poppy said, "Perhaps you should return to the feast now, Harry. I'm sure Dobby and I can handle things here now."
"Yes, Master Harry. I will bring back Master Draco to you soon." The little elf's voice was filled with a determined conviction. "We will not let the young Master stay here long."
As he left, the capable but soul-weary medi-witch heard, "Had things been different, perhaps Draco would not have been here at all."
As Hogwarts held its latest feast at the beginning of Harry Potter's fifth year of school, another feast was being held elsewhere. The ambience could not have been more dissimilar; a clearing in a dark forest, lit only by 7 red lanterns. None of them shone on the faces of the hosts, who were content in remaining unrecognized to their guests. Opposite them were seated five wizards in black robes, blending into the black night, but displaying their black hearts.
Their meals were separate. Different. In this hidden place, each could eat as they pleased.
The wizards dined on game and pheasant, a rare albino peacock and a French custard.
Their hosts dined quietly, silently, noiselessly. Between sips of a sweet wine, they took long draughts of another liquid that held more power and a greater richness of texture. For them. Not that they did not enjoy any delicate French sweets. They nubile young girls whose blood they sipped on from various parts of the girls' bodies fulfilled that requirement. The girls were, after all, French.
The guests put away their food, when they saw that their hosts were finished with theirs'. The table was cleared away and a black cloth draped over it. The meeting had begun.
One of the Death Eaters cleared his throat. "Your Highness, we have come to you on behalf of our Dark Lord. In his effort to bring change to the world of magic, to make things better for those who deserve it, and to eradicate the world of those who have usurped our rights by false means, he has found many that would hinder him. Thus, he faces a war. In this war, he seeks allies, those who would stand with him and aid him in his endeavour. To all such, he will extend his gratitude and allow them to live as they would on the chattel that are conquered, with only the understanding that the victors may be exempt from the same fate. Would you accept our Lord's gifts and join our cause?"
There was a long pause. In the silence, nothing could be heard except the rushing sound of the wind through the trees that made the leaves sound like water. The wizards shivered. Their hosts showed no reaction to the element that was the only thing in this forest that did not fear them. As the silence stretched on, one of the black robed figures began to fidget. At length across the table, there was a discernible movement. The dark host in the middle opened his eyes. They caught the faint red lantern light and glittered.
"We know why you have come to us." His voice was deep and measured. Yet it was youthful and clear. "And we accepted your gifts because it pleased us to do so. Indeed we thank you for these gifts as they are fresh and we have not turned our minds to travel that way for many a long decade." There was a pause. The wizards seemed to bend towards the speaker, willing him to continue.
"We have heard of this war of the humans. It began many years ago and even then it was preceded by another. Neither is different from the other. The reverberations of power started long ago. My brethren have visited these places and they have seen the events unfold. We have been where none have expected us to be. And we have seen what we have seen. Thus we know what we know."
He stood; his tall, sinewy, languorous form, unfolding from his black wood seat. "Therefore, Rodolphus Lestrange, take back this answer to your Black Master.
The Dark Arts have a Dark Master and it is not he.
The wizarding Dark Lord shall not sway me.
I have seen power where he thought there was none.
I will still be here when all of him is done."
With that, an unseen host swarmed the five wizards, taking three and leaving Rodolphus Lestrange alone in the clearing with his wife. Both were shivering, and not with the cold.
Oh My Gosh! Even I am shivering right now. Do so hope you liked this chapter, 'cause I have no idea where it came from! It's like my brain typed it. Complete out-of-body experience that was.
Regardless, please R n R! I'm so looking forward to it… :)