Chapter 21 – The Dark Arts
An ominous silence filled the chamber. The only noise was the sound of Professor Snape's index finger tapping lightly against the chair leg. Draco knew it was just the calm before the storm and grew steadily more anxious as the calm stretched on. Shrieks of anger or threats of stiff punishments would be better than this silence, yet the seconds continued to tick by. The Potions Master, who initially looked more frightened than angry, seemed to master his emotions. His face grew placid and he quietly studied Draco, now standing full sized in front of him. Even his finger stopped tapping.
With a slow blink, Professor Snape inhaled to speak but what he said caught Draco off guard. "Was it your mother?"
"Excuse me, Sir?" Draco didn't know what to make of the question.
"No. It was your father who put you up to this?" It was phrased like a statement, but the tone indicated that a question was being asked.
"Put me up to it, Sir?" Draco responded, as politely as he could, not wanting to test the Professor's patience any further.
"Coming into my office. Something or someone motivated you. At least I hope so. I do hope this is more than some prank dreamed up by you or by one of those friends lurking in the hallway outside."
"Y-Yes, Sir… or… no, Sir," Draco stammered. "No, it's not a prank."
"So it was your father, then?" Professor Snape didn't sound angry, only vaguely curious. In fact, his voice was rather reassuring, as if he was addressing someone who had come to his office in search of a sympathetic ear.
"No, not exactly. It was my idea." Draco immediately regretted his words, as they seemed to further implicate his father rather than the opposite.
"Hmm. You do seem to have made some regrettable decisions lately. Speaking of which, I'm sorry about that run-in you had with that Gryffindor girl after your race. Believe it or not, I know exactly how you must feel about that."
Silence once again filled the room. Draco, baffled at the professor's reaction, glanced over at the mirror and was startled to see that Professor Snape's reflection had disappeared.
"It's a Cerebakan. You haven't seen one before?"
"No. What does it do?" asked Draco.
"In a sense it does nothing. The wizard…" – Professor Snape seemed to search for the right explanation for a few moments – "…places himself inside, so the device knows what he knows. Hence the mirror is really just a reflection of oneself, but it only holds knowledge, memories, and facts – not emotions. Cerebakens were very popular a number of years ago. The idea was that one could seek advice about how to solve a problem and the reflection could give sensible council untainted by fears, dreams, or the general distracting background noise of the emotional mind. In truth, however, most people found its usefulness rather limited. Making choices without taking into account how you feel about those choices is foolish, no matter how clear the reasoning. As a result, Cerebakens fell out of fashion as quickly as they had come in. Personally I still find the device interesting enough to keep around. It is amusing if nothing else."
The Potions Master rubbed his fingers together, removing some small bits of dirt from the tips. With his eyes on his fingers rather than on Draco he continued, "But I suppose our conversation must move from idle chat, interesting as it may be, to the rather more pressing issue at hand."
Professor Snape rose and made his way to the door. Opening it, he announced, "Good. It would appear that Misters Goyle and Crabbe have wisely returned to where they should be. For present purposes, let us pretend they were merely messing about in the hallways a bit later than they should have been and leave them out of this."
Draco was happy to agree, taking some small reassurance in the fact that he hadn't gotten his friends into trouble too. He was sure the storm was about to break and that Professor Snape would announce a most dire punishment, but the Professor did not. In fact he continued to seem quite unperturbed, still talking in a collected manner as he returned to his chair.
"Is this about the Philosopher's Stone, Draco?"
"Is what about the Philosopher's Stone?"
"Is your little night time excursion into my private office about the Philosopher's Stone? Is your father wondering why I never told him it was here at Hogwarts?"
"Umm… no, Sir."
Professor Snape studied Draco's confused expression. "Doesn't matter. Feel free to go ahead and tell him that the Stone is here. It's not exactly a well-kept secret anyway. With so many people involved in moving it, storing it, putting up protections for it, half the country already knows where it is anyway. But if that isn't why you are here then it must be about Him."
"Him, sir?"
"You know who I mean, Draco."
"The Dark Lord?"
"Indeed. I should have guessed something like this would happen. The last time I saw Lucius Malfoy was at your estate during the Christmas Break. At the time he was obviously more than a little curious about what to make of the signs of the Dark Lord's return. 'Have you felt anything? Have you seen anything?' My answer of 'No, I haven't,' never seemed to satisfy. Perhaps his persistence was due to the fact that he somehow guessed I was lying.
"Lying? You mean he's here? You've seen the Dark Lord?"
"No, I haven't seen him. But I've felt enough to know that he is, indeed, here."
"But why… why didn't you tell anyone?"
Professor Snape leaned forward slightly, his face showing just a hint of amusement. "You are wondering about my loyalty to the Dark Lord – wondering why I haven't sought him out and why I haven't immediately shouted out the good news to his followers. The answer is simple. The Dark Lord cares less about enthusiasm than he does about results. I know that the he could reveal himself openly if he wanted to, but if he chooses to act in secret then he must have his reasons. Seeking him out, spreading the word of his presence, when that is obviously what he does not want, would only anger him. He knows that he can count on me to act with intelligence and discretion, and perhaps that is why he trusts me above so many others."
After a lengthy silence, while Draco tried – and failed – to formulate any sort of reply at all, Professor Snape spoke again. "I am sure you will feel obligated to tell your father what you have learned here tonight, but I caution both of you against spreading this information any further. I am convinced that the Dark Lord wants his presence here to remain a secret. I don't have any idea how he would react if what we've been discussing was repeated in the wrong company."
Professor Snape gave a rather forced and not very reassuring smile. "Now let us put this topic behind us. After all, the least we speak about it, the better. Unfortunately, we do have one other bit of unpleasant business to deal with. We do need to deal with the issue of you sneaking into my office, if only for appearances. After all, your friends are probably aware that I caught you in here, and if they know it then most of Slytherin house probably does too by now, so I certainly cannot let you go unpunished."
"Yes sir," Draco nodded contritely.
"A few weeks ago you were given a detention by Professor McGonagall for being out of your dorm after midnight, supposedly while trying to catch Potter carrying a dragon. Finding you here tonight leads me to believe you had a slightly different motivation for being out of bed that night."
Draco flushed guiltily while Professor Snape continued. "At the time, I told Professor McGonagall that I agreed to set the time and activity for your detention. I was planning on having you stay after next class to help me sort out some Potion ingredients. Now, I think I will have you join the Gryffindors in their detention as well. I am not a hundred per cent certain what that entails, but I know you'll be helping out Hagrid with some chores."
When Professor Snape told him he could go, Draco bolted, wanting nothing more than to quickly recover his hole and get back to the Cave to try to think things through.
As he was slipping out the door Professor Snape added, "One more thing, Draco. I have to tell you that I am impressed with your Shrinking potion. I may need to raise the grade of your assignment on the subject."
Draco muttered his thanks, thinking that he'd gotten off far better than he ever could have hoped to.
A few days later, Draco and Crabbe were sitting by the fire in the Slytherin common room. Almost everyone else had already gone to bed.
"What happened to the door, anyway?" Draco stared at the gaping entrance to the boy's dormitory. The button, along with the door it was attached to, had disappeared completely.
"No idea. It was just gone when Greg and I got back from class. I imagine the girls have it."
Greg was down in his bedroom making sure that no cats got in to pester Sir Nibbles.
Crabbe looked at the message that had arrived for Draco a few hours earlier.
Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight. Meet Mr Filch in the Entrance Hall.
Professor S. Snape
"You know what would be funny? If you got in trouble for wandering the halls at eleven at night on your way to detention," Crabbe chuckled.
Draco laughed too as he got up to leave.
"Thanks for not ratting us out by the way. I can't believe Professor Snape didn't figure out that we were in on it with you."
"Er, yeah," Draco, agreed even though he knew it wasn't true. After Professor Snape's warning, he was back to keeping secrets from his friends. "Well, thanks for waiting up with me. I guess I'd better get going."
Draco arrived at the Entrance Hall at exactly eleven o'clock. His tension about what exactly this bizarrely late 'detention' entailed warded off any sleepiness he might have otherwise felt. Mr Filch, without his usual companion of Mrs Norris the cat, was already waiting there. Running his hand through his long greasy thinning hair, Mr Filch grumbled, "Where's the rest of your lot?"
"My lot?"
"The rest of you rulebreakers that we caught running around playing dragon games in the castle that night."
"They're not with me. They're not even in my house!" The prospect of serving out the detention with just himself and Mr Filch might have been more than a little creepy, but he was looking forward to seeing Potter – or for that matter Hermione – even less. Draco hadn't spoken to Hermione since the last Flying Class.
"A likely story," Mr Filch grumbled, though he seemed to accept it as he leaned back against a wall and began studying the ground.
Five minutes later the sound of footsteps drew their attention to the marble staircase, and Longbottom, Potter, and Hermione joined them. None of the Gryffindors met Draco's gaze. He studied Hermione's face intently, trying to see what she was thinking, but she gave no impression that she even noticed Draco was there.
"It's about ruddy time," Mr Filch grumbled. "Now follow me." He lit a lamp and led them out into the cool night air. As they crossed the wet grass, Mr Filch continued to grumble about the punishments the children should be receiving if he had his way, though he sounded in a jolly enough mood that they knew that whatever was coming would be bad.
As they marched, the Forbidden Forest drew closer and closer. The moon was either full or close enough to it to light up the grounds whenever its rays could slice through a hole in the clouds. Despite their growing apprehension, none of the children spoke. Finally a booming voice with a Scottish twang cut through the darkness. "Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."
Suddenly bathed in moonlight, the figure of Hagrid the gamekeeper loomed ahead. Potter raised his arm and waved a greeting to Hagrid, much to the chagrin of Mr Filch who snapped, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well think again, boy – it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."
Draco spluttered, "The forest? We can't go in there, especially at night. There's all sorts of things in there – werewolves, I heard. I mean there's a reason they call it the Forbidden Forest, isn't there?"
Longbottom, an unexpected ally, voiced similar reservations in a quieter voice, but Mr Filch either didn't hear or didn't care.
A low bark brought the conversation to an end. Hagrid, trailed by a large boarhound, strode up. The gamekeeper seemed to be in a foul mood and grumbled to Mr Filch about the length of time he had been waiting.
"I'll be back at dawn for what's left of them," announced Mr Filch before stalking away towards the castle. As his lantern light faded the small group plunged into semi-darkness.
Hagrid lit his own lamp, illuminating his large shaggy face. He looked grim.
"I'm not going into that forest," announced Draco once Mr Filch was out of hearing range. Longbottom grunted his agreement.
"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," Hagrid snapped. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."
Hermione suddenly chuckled.
"What are you laughin' about?" Hagrid asked, puzzled.
"Oh sorry," Hermione said, her face lit by moonlight that had found a new hole in the clouds. "It's just that, I mean, you're lecturing us about how we deserve to be punished, and you're right, we do. But, it's a bit ironic because… well, we're in trouble because we were doing what you…" Hermione trailed off like she'd already said too much.
Draco was confused. What did Hermione mean? Did Hagrid put them up to the trick about there being a dragon at Hogwarts? Why would he do that to Draco? They barely knew each other.
His musings were interrupted by the gamekeeper, looking slightly flustered now, announcing, "Right then, off to the forest. Now listen carefully cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight an' I don' want no one takin' risks."
Hagrid turned and lumbered off. For a few moments no one else moved, and hope surged in Draco that as a group they were going to rebel, but a moment later Potter trailed after Hagrid, followed by Hermione, then Longbottom who gave another nervous grunt, and finally Draco.
Hagrid plunged straight into the trees following a winding path, while the children scampered to keep up. After a couple of minutes he stopped. Holding his light high he pointed to some ferns nestled amongst a patch of twisted tree roots. "Look there…" – he indicated some silvery droplets on the leaves – "And there. See that stuff shinin' on the ground?" He pointed along the forest floor where scattered patches of the drops rested on the roots and the bare earth. They looked like liquid, but for some reason, they didn't soak into the soil. "That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."
Hagrid shuttered his lantern, plunging the group into near total darkness. As their eyes adjusted, Hermione let out an audible gasp. "Look at it!"
As the thin moonlight which filtered through the trees hit the droplets, they flashed a mixture of swirling silver, white and pale blue.
"Aye, it's beautiful. Or it might seem so if yer didn't know wut caused it. At least this gives us a way ter follow the trail."
A cracking noise in the distance, as if something had stepped on a dead branch deeper in the forest, drew their attention to the shadowy gloom all around them.
"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Draco asked.
Hagrid, not sounding angry now, just a bit sad, answered, "There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang. Right, now, we're gonna split inter two parties an' follow the trail in diff'rent directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."
Draco, eyeing up the boarhound's strong body and long teeth, volunteered to stick with Fang.
"All right," Hagrid agreed, "but I warn yeh, he's a coward." Draco wasn't sure if the gamekeeper was kidding.
Hagrid pointed along the path they'd been following, where the unicorn blood was now clearly visible. "Me, Harry, an' Hermione'll go one way an' Draco, Neville, an' Fang'll go the other. Now if any of us finds the unicorn, we'll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an' practice now – that's it – an' if anyone gets in trouble, send up red sparks, an we'll all come an' find yeh – so be careful! Let's go."
Hagrid, Harry, and Hermione stumped off into the forest following the flashing spattered trail. Draco, Neville, and Fang watched them go, Fang whining audibly, as if to prove that Hagrid hadn't been exaggerating about his lack of bravery.
The rush of relief Draco had felt when he realized that he wouldn't have to face the awkwardness of being left alone with either Hermione or Potter was quickly replaced with trepidation. With a glance at the large moon, and with thoughts of werewolves fresh in his head, the forest suddenly seemed alive with new noises.
Each boy considered suggesting leaving right now and accepting whatever new punishment would come, but when their eyes finally met they just exchanged resigned shrugs and set off, following the unicorn's path which led them deeper into the forest.
As they wound their way around trees, stumbled over roots, and passed through the occasional clearing, Fang grew quiet. He too seemed resigned – though not enthusiastic – about this pursuit. The trail of droplets waxed and waned. At times it was easy to follow, the droplets becoming larger and closer together, giving the impression that it was dramatically coming to a conclusion. At other times it seemed to fade away, hinting that it might disappear altogether. It was at one of these moments, as the boys cast around, looking deeper amongst the dark trees, that a sound like an inhuman cry cut through the leaves.
The boys froze. Longbottom spoke first. "What was that? Was that an animal?" He fumbled out his wand, but then dropped it onto the forest loam.
Something, a branch probably, snapped in the same direction the cry had come from.
"Hurry up, hurry up," said Draco, frozen to the spot.
Longbottom scrambled around, found his wand again, and pointed it forward. "Lumos." The wand fizzed and crackled, threatening to not illuminate. Draco was pulling out his own wand when Longbottom's finally sprang to life, giving off a faint beam which just seemed to accentuate the immense darkness and shadows around them.
Draco leaned forward, putting his hand on Longbottom's shoulder, and asked, "What…"
He didn't get to finish his question as at Draco's touch Longbottom shrieked and launched himself forward, smacking his own head into a branch.
He turned his wand so the beam, now seeming surprisingly bright, shone straight into Draco's face, and shouted, "What did you do that for?"
"Do what?"
"Sneak up on me like that?"
"I didn't sneak up on you! I was right here the whole time. I was just trying to see what you were looking at."
The boys, forgetting their fear of whatever may have been lurking just out of their vision, continued to jabber at each other, urged on by a suddenly reinvigorated Fang who was barking wildly, until finally in a huff Longbottom set off a flare of red sparks. "I'm telling Hagrid on you."
Longbottom and Draco were still bickering when crashing of timber signalled the arrival of Hagrid, who was not happy to discover that there hadn't actually been an emergency when Longbottom set his wand off. He fumed as he led the two boys back through the forest, a suddenly happy Fang galumphing around his feet. Five minutes later he had them back with Potter and Hermione.
Still grumbling about the time wasted, Hagrid remade the groups, this time getting Potter, Draco, and Fang to continue following the path Potter had been on, while the other three plunged back through the forest.
Potter and Draco hadn't spoken since the race, not even to tease each other, and both kept up this tacit vow of silence as they turned back to their duty of following the unicorn's trail. Potter led the way, carefully looking for fallen droplets. Draco hung back, watching the ever changing patterns of the trees around them and listening for danger. Fang, now that Hagrid was gone again, slunk along in the rear in a fearful crouch, his tail between his legs.
The procession continued the same way for another half an hour. Draco was amazed at how long the splattered trail had gone on. How could a unicorn even have this much blood?
Potter, reaching the edge of a large clearing, suddenly held up one hand, signalling for Draco to stop. Curious, he crept forward, peering over Potter's shoulder. There, illuminated in the silver glow of the clearing, was the unicorn. It was lying perfectly still, either sleeping or dead, and it was not alone. A second figure, cloaked and hooded, was skulking in the clearing, now running one arm along the smooth flank of the fallen unicorn.
A branch Potter was leaning on creaked and the cowled figure looked up. The hood shifted slightly and the vaguest outlines of a face could be seen, with two piercing eyes that, for a moment, flashed red.
A new cry rent the still forest air. It took a few moments for Draco to realize that the cry had come from his own throat.
He stumbled through the trees, sweating and gasping for air. He grabbed a tree trunk and bent over, retching. What was happening? As soon as he'd seen that face, emotions crashed through him, beginning in the pit of his stomach and racing up his spine until his head was on fire.
Minutes passed. Draco didn't know what was going on. Was he sick? Had he been hit by a spell and not noticed? Then, he finally recognized it. He was back home, at the Christmas rally. No, he wasn't really, but his body remembered the surging waves of feelings he'd experienced then – the same emotions that were washing over him now. He let it come. A tidal wave of anger, hatred, and power. Suddenly he laughed out loud, although only the silent trees heard him. He hadn't meant to, it just happened. He'd almost forgotten how good it felt to just let the feelings take over. To embrace them.
Thoughts raced through Draco's mind – there was so much wrong with this world, so much to provoke his justifiable rage. But he could deal with it. He could punish those who deserved it, and his father and his father's friends would help. And the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord would help too. Draco knew this to be true.
A second wave of emotion gnawed at him, whispering doubts. Whispering that these emotions weren't his own, that they didn't make sense. Who exactly was he supposed to hate? Muggles? Half-bloods? What had they done to him, anyway? He tried to ignore it at first. The doubts made him weak. Worse yet, they made him feel guilty, dirty even. He was wracked by another wave of nausea, and was reminded of the morning after the Christmas Rally, when Dobby'd seen him vomit on his bedroom floor.
Trying his best to push both sets of emotions out of his mind, Draco stumbled through the trees, searching for a way out of this living maze. He was sweating, even though it was cold, and it was hard to focus with his eyes welling with tears. He wasn't sure of the direction but, by skill or by chance, his legs finally carried him to the edge of the forest.
He slumped down on a patch of slick grass underneath the last boughs. Letting himself fall sideways, he closed his eyes and waited for his heart to stop racing. Time passed and the night noises returned. Through sheer exhaustion Draco just stayed on the grass, its dampness soaking through his robes.
Four figures emerged from the trees, not a hundred feet from where Draco lay. Hagrid, lantern held high, led the way.
"Ar yeh sure Draco got out?"
"Well, I don't know," Potter answered, "but he was moving pretty fast."
"I 'magin I'd better check around in the castle. Probably wouldn't look too good, losin' a student an all."
Draco knew he should call out, but he didn't. He felt drained, as if he'd been awake for days. He pushed himself up, leaned back against a tree trunk, and watched the lantern slowly weave its way up the hill to the front entrance of Hogwarts.
Another fifteen minutes passed. He was about to finally get up and make his way back to his own dormitory when a rustling sound from behind drew his attention. Spinning around, he saw a faint glow amongst the trees. An internal alarm warned him to run, that it might be the hooded figure, but somehow he knew it wasn't. This was something different.
Draco walked back into the forest, making no effort to disguise the sound of his footsteps. After about thirty feet he stopped cold, drawing a sharp intake of breath. Standing in front of him, almost close enough to touch, was a unicorn, its glowing horn bathing the space between them in a golden light.
A foolish thought told Draco that this was the unicorn from the clearing, that it had somehow mysteriously come back to life, but it wasn't. This creature, this living unicorn, seemed to exude waves of feeling the way that average animals gave of smells. Draco could feel love, warmth, purity – but also a profound sadness – radiating from the beautiful being in front of him.
"Hello," Draco said. It sounded wholeheartedly insufficient for such a meeting, but he didn't know what else to say.
The unicorn stepped forward and bent its head to the ground until the tip of its horn touched the earth. Draco couldn't understand what it was doing but he could see its neck muscles straining. It was pushing at the earth, its horn beginning to bend. Suddenly there was a snapping sound. The unicorn whinnied a pitiful cry as its head shot up. It looked up, pain clearly showing on its face, yet no blood dripped from the roots of the shattered horn.
The unicorn stood still, and Draco gradually realized what it was waiting for. He leaned over and picked up the spiralled, cone-shaped tip lying on the ground. It still glowed, though the glow was much weaker now that it had been broken off. The unicorn blinked once, turned, and trotted away.
When his amazement finally faded Draco turned as well, and tramped back towards the castle. His head was still spinning over the evening's events when he almost walked straight into a tall, slightly stooped figure.
"Good evening, Draco."
"Professor Dumbledore, Sir. Sorry, I didn't see you there."
"Understandable, of course. One of the hazards of taking a stroll in the dark, I suppose."
"Er, I'm not sure if you know sir… I'm not sneaking around. I'm just coming back from detention."
"Yes, Mr Malfoy, I was aware of that. The last to return I believe. My, that is an interesting object you have." Albus Dumbledore pointed at the piece of unicorn horn still held in Draco's hand. Somehow his twinkling eyes had picked it out in the dim light.
Sure he was about to have to explain where he got it, Draco was surprised when the Headmaster asked, "How is school going, Draco?"
"Er… fine I suppose. A bit busy the last little while."
"Of course, of course. It's always busy this time of year. And, are you getting along well in Slytherin house? Making friends and so forth?"
Draco answered, "Oh yes, I like a lot of the people there," even though this seemed like a very strange conversation to be having in the middle of the night.
"Good, good. Over the years there have been many fine and respectable graduates from Slytherin house, though it does have a bad reputation as you must have noticed. Many see how successful those who emerge from Slytherin are, and assume that somehow proves they must not be admirable people. And in truth, if one acts badly and ignores ones conscience, I suppose it can help lead to success. However, as the Sorting Hat once told me, that doesn't mean the person has no conscience."
"The Sorting Hat?"
"Oh yes. It is quite remarkably wise, for a hat. People often underestimate it actually, perhaps because it wouldn't make a very dangerous adversary. It's not very quick, you see."
Professor Dumbledore tipped his head. "Well, I've nattered enough at you for one evening. You'd best be off to bed. Goodnight, Draco."
"Goodnight, Professor."
What a strange coincidence it was to run into the Headmaster just then. Draco had never had a conversation with him before tonight. It was just one more thing to think about at the end of a very long day.