Warning: There is mention of 'Branagh's brother' from chapter one at the beginning of this chapter. Near the end, there are some explicit gore-y details. Of course these are exclamation marked!
When Harry had last been in the entrance hall by himself, he'd been annoyed with Malfoy.
Now he didn't yet know whether he had a reason to be, the enormity of the space made him feel exposed.
There were pillars, doors, and even tapestries on the walls, yet he felt like prey in an open field.
…or like a carcass, ready for scavengers.
! The eyeless Death Eater and his Aberdonian seagulls came to mind.
He shuddered as he made his way up the stairs, unsure whether he imagined the cloud of chalk-like dust when he placed his foot on the bottom step.
The sun was tentatively brightening the high windows behind him, but it didn't make the house feel any safer.
Instead, it promised to uncover the dangers from their shadows.
Harry'd been trying to work out what had just happened.
He'd been on duty for about ten minutes and he'd already fucked up.
Of course Tristan, with his years of experience, would know whether a signalling charm would be safe to put on a charge, Residue or not.
Harry really should have known better than to question that.
It wasn't his place.
…and hadn't Tristan mentioned at some point that he'd been in 'med school'?
There was no way he would have taken the situation as lightly as Harry had implied.
Harry really couldn't help but jump to conclusions, could he?
He should consider joining the fucking ballet.
Tristan hadn't pulled rank, which maybe he should have done. It might have shut Harry up sooner.
…
…was he already questioning his competence again?
…it hadn't been a single minute.
There had never been any kind of unpleasantness between them before, and Tristan had seemed a bit off.
In the time they'd worked together, he'd never been 'off' before.
Granted, there hadn't been any 22-hour shifts then either, but still.
Had the house affected him? Or had Malfoy gotten to him?
Regardless, it was suspicious and uncomfortable and Harry didn't like it.
Also, what had Tristan meant with Malfoy 'having an opinion' about handing over the memory?
Harry should have asked about that instead of implying his superior's incompetence.
Monitoring shift two: great start.
He reached the landing and got out his FieldScroll. It was best to be updated before he faced his charge again, and this hallway had a relatively low degree of fucked-ness.
He should, of course, have been informed about any special events by Tristan… but Harry tried to put his mind off of that.
There was no point in lingering.
He made sure to continue walking as he read.
25.11.1998, 10:00 Shift transferred to T. Wheeler
25.11.1998, 13:10-13:50 Charge hovered meal items
25.11.1998, 22:15 Charge hovered clothing
26.11.1998, 03:47 Charge attempted Patronus charm
26.11.1998, 05:12 Charge hovered food
…okay…
That Tristan'd summarised and categorised events was unusual, but fine.
Fair enough.
Harry trusted his judgement.
He did.
But -
Charge attempted Patronus charm
…it actually said that.
Harry still had no idea how to estimate Malfoy's madness, but he was clearly not doing so great.
Not to mention that the log hadn't mentioned the Patronus charm at all — would Malfoy have been able to cast one before?
And why had it been noted if it had only been an attempt?
What had happened last night?
Next time he would read the bloody log while Tristan was still here.
…interrogating Malfoy had gone rather well last time.
Harry looked forward to trying again.
He reached the bedroom door and knocked twice on the top panel.
When Narcissa'd done this, she'd then said Malfoy's first name.
Harry decided against doing that.
It would be weird.
The inner-skin draft tugged at him again - it was more noticeable now he wasn't distracted by the newness of the situation. No immediate response came from inside, so he opened the door.
The energy was still frantic and dangerous, but there was another 'shade' to it. It was difficult to make out. Perhaps it, too, had been here before, and it only seemed different.
As he looked towards the bed he could see the movement begin. It was exactly how it had been the other night — something invisible jumped around Malfoy, and the moment he moved to 'get up', Bellatrix said 'good morning Draco'.
There was a difference, though.
Last time her voice had lashed around, energetic and violent.
This time, it was a seductive whisper.
Malfoy seemed most uncomfortable.
He leaned on his arm and glared up at Harry, his face flushed.
It looked as if he was about to say something, but instead he sighed and lay back down.
"…I didn't mean to wake you," Harry said as he went over to the desk chair. He really hadn't - he stupidly hadn't even considered that he might.
"Then why are you here?" Malfoy sounded slow and sleepy.
No wonder, considering he'd 'hovered food' only three hours ago.
Ah well, at least he'd eaten.
"…to monitor you." Harry answered as he sat down, a little relieved to have made it this far.
Malfoy adjusted his position - he was laying on his side, on his good arm, facing Harry. "Your colleague did ehm… signalling charm," He mumbled into his pillow.
Tristan had raised his voice about that, so it was a good thing that Malfoy mentioned it.
Harry might have bloody forgotten, otherwise.
Calm down.
This wasn't Malfoy's fault.
Then again…
Harry'd taken over the charm and Malfoy was awake, so…
"…why hasn't it gone off?"
Malfoy sleepily unfolded himself to look at him. "You're asking me?"
Nearly everything in Harry's line of sight was white - The blankets, the bed curtains, Malfoy's sleepwear… but his face was still flushed, and the fold of a pillow was pressed into his cheek. That, combined with the long-suffering exasperation in his eyes, made the moment… strange.
It reminded Harry of the look Ginny had given him last night, when she'd interrupted their… bedtime activities because she'd spotted the bruise on his back.
He felt the hair in his neck rise as he resisted rolling the chair away.
Why had his mind gone there?
"He's your colleague… not my responsibility…" Malfoy mumbled as he got comfortable again.
This was weird and horrible.
"Well,…- " Harry racked his brain for words.
Why was he saying anything? He should let the git sleep and get a drink or something.
He needed one.
No - he'd come here to work.
"…you're literally my job, so if the signalling charm is fucked and Residue kills you while I'm having tea, I'll…-"
Malfoy raised an eyebrow.
"-…I'll be annoyed. Okay?"
"Oh, you'll be a bit miffed, will you?" Malfoy croaked dryly before clearing his throat. "I'm moved to tears. Please withhold any other profound declarations."
He'd spoken tonelessly, then paused to blink.
"The charm should signal you when I leave the bed."
He briefly held Harry's gaze in silence.
"…which is obvious, unless you wish to be notified of my every movement."
"Fair enough," Harry tried to relax.
The charm was fine, it was fine, Tristan was competent and Malfoy hadn't offed himself.
Malfoy lay down, closed his eyes, ignored Harry entirely, and his breathing slowed within two minutes.
Staring —… or rather, being present as Malfoy slept felt inappropriate, but then again: he was probably used to it.
Meanwhile, that fucking chair still stood there as if it had a right to.
…remembering the Greyback manifestation made it feel as if it was happening.
As if a breeze picked up, but instead of air, there was 'excitement' and 'readiness to strike'.
Fuck, had Harry summoned it somehow?
Before he'd said or asked anything at all, Malfoy said "Hm?"
It could be some kind of sleeping noise though, or the start of whatever reason he'd had to have silencio'd himself the other night.
(Come to think of it, the log hadn't mentioned him casting it previously. What had that been about?)
"I didn't say anything," Harry said quickly.
Malfoy didn't respond and the manifestation intensified.
It took shape.
Not visibly, but its breeze-like nature seemed to solidify until Harry could sense its outline beside the bed.
The energy it radiated was eager and repulsive.
Malfoy, who had been laying in semi-foetal position, opened his eyes and turned them to the figure Harry couldn't see.
They widened as his face drained.
The figure moved.
It was hard to tell what exactly it did since Harry still couldn't see it.
He stood up in response to it, anyway.
…what was he going to do though? Hex a manifestation?
That had gone wonderfully with Professor Burbage.
The figure moved again and Malfoy leapt out of bed, maximising distance as quickly as possible.
Instantly the signalling charm went off, spraying red sparks accompanied by a hissing whistling sound.
Harry finite'd it and kept his wand at the ready.
Malfoy had not turned away from the figure and he'd scrambled backwards into the side of his bookcase with a thump, wand pointed, eyes wide, blanket draped and dragged along like a royal cloak.
Did he also keep his wand under his pillow?
As he leaned his back against the wood, the expression of terror drained away and he swayed, wand unwavering. Then he slid down a little, somehow still standing.
"Has it done this before?" Harry asked, not sure what to do.
Malfoy's arm lowered limply as he slid to the ground. He blinked so slowly that Harry thought he'd passed out.
It took another few seconds before there was a slight shake of the head and a groan in response.
Lightheaded-ness due to rising too quickly was normal enough, and considering the state Malfoy was in, it was no wonder that all this movement had basically knocked him out.
Harry was more concerned with something else.
He'd been a Horcrux of the Residue Source, and this was a Pure Reactive Manifestation Cluster which included a living part…
…had thinking about Greyback triggered it?
The invisible figure hadn't changed its location and didn't 'look' as if it was about to, but it seemed to have directed itself towards Malfoy, who still sat on the ground.
His knees were up and his face rested on them. He looked crumpled and a stain of darkness was appearing through the white blanket.
"Are you still alive?" Harry asked, trying to intone it the way he'd done the other day, hoping to get the same reaction.
A sniff (of amusement?) followed by an affirmative "Hm."
The stain was increasing - Harry wouldn't be surprised if blackness would reach through and Malfoy would sprout black tendrils of some sort.
He'd seen something like that on television once and for all he knew, it could have been inspired by something magical.
"Are you all right?" He asked, more concerned.
Malfoy gave a little snort that ended in a whimper.
Then the dark stain reached the surface of the blanket.
It was red.
"Fuck - are you bleeding?"
"...spilling…" Malfoy responded slowly.
"Fuck, all right, okay, ehm…" Harry looked around, unsure for what. "How? What happened?"
"…'s a bit pointy…"
The whisper contained a croak of voice and his deep and steady breathing sounded strained.
Harry looked at the side of the book case Malfoy'd run into. Nothing pointy there, and besides - the blanket would be pierced if he'd been stabbed with something.
The stain grew.
It wasn't big, just over the size of a hand, but that it was there at all was bad enough.
Fuck, was Malkins' needle still in there or something?
When in doubt, use Auror tone.
"Malfoy; what is pointy? Is there something in there?"
Malfoy exhaled deeply, though it sounded amused.
Then he raised his head with a grimace on his ashen face.
"The bone…"
He breathed deeply, and his eyes shone. "…still there yes…" He took a deep breath. "…pretty sure…"
"Fuck, that must hurt. Okay, ehm…" Harry said, looking around for anything that might help.
Malfoy raised both eyebrows in a half-hearted unimpressed response, then placed his face on his knees again.
Harry wasn't a doctor or a Healer, and the only bit of 'knowledge' he had in that regard came from Tristan and a lot of corpses.
"Should I take you to St. Mungo's?"
Malfoy shook his head without looking up.
Oh yeah, he'd been 'manhandled' by staff, hadn't he?
"They won't do anything… shitty if I'm there," Harry added, but there was no response.
"Should I get someone?" He tried again.
Malfoy moved his head a bit but Harry couldn't interpret it.
"Your mum?"
Slight shake of the head.
"Tristan knows some… medical things…"
Another head shake.
"…Johnny then, maybe?"
"…no." Malfoy sounded breathy.
"…okay. So - what should I do? Do you have something against pain?"
Malfoy shook his head a little more, weak but agitated. "…can you shut up…" he trailed off, sounding distracted.
All right then.
Confused and unsure whether he should be annoyed, Harry adjusted his position in the chair.
The manifestation still 'stood' by the bed, radiating its intensity towards Malfoy.
This was fucked up.
But what could he do? Hex the Greyback thing?
It might become worse.
…and he wasn't about to grab Malfoy and look at his stump without an explicit invitation.
He wouldn't know what to do with it, anyway.
Awkwardly he got out his Monitoring FieldScroll and began to do his job, meanwhile keeping as close an eye on both the manifestation and Malfoy as he could.
26.11.1998, 08:00 Junior Auror Potter on duty
26.11.1998, 08:30 - Charge lost consciousness due to
He paused.
Johnny had logged that Malfoy'd become unconscious in hospital, but that had been… different, somehow.
Malfoy'd been out for hardly a minute just now, and Harry wished he hadn't written this down at all.
Also — due to what? Due to 'accident'?
That would look dodgy as fuck.
The tampering measures didn't allow him to erase anything, though.
He hesitated and looked at Malfoy, who was still huddled up in the nook beside the bookcase.
He looked small.
Harry made up his mind.
Charge lost consciousness due to disability.
The words stared back at him. Accusingly.
He felt like he had crossed a line, but he couldn't put his finger on how.
No, no that was probably due to residue or something. He was being professional.
The entry was true - Residue manifesting may have triggered the situation, Malfoy wouldn't have passed out if his arm hadn't been all… fucky.
…and what had triggered the manifestation?
Harry put this FieldScroll on his knee and got out the other one to log what he'd found.
former horcrux thought about Greyback in bedroom, which is pure reactive manif cluster, and Greyback manif't. Disembodied malicious energy. Apparently unusual.
The shape was still there, but weaker than before.
Malfoy hadn't moved but was breathing, and the stain in the blanket had hardly spread, though it had become redder.
Had anything else been… unusual?
"Was your aunt's voice normal, just now?" Harry asked, not sure whether to expect an answer.
"No." Malfoy croaked. "She differs, but not…" He took a breath, "Not like this."
He sounded almost normal, though he hadn't raised his head.
Bellatrix sounded seductive; unusual
Harry didn't expect that to have been his fault, since he'd hardly entered the room at the time.
What else had been strange?
Yeah, okay, Tristan, but… -
Hang on.
"How was last night?" Harry asked the moment the thought struck him.
Malfoy froze.
Fuck.
Harry switched to Auror tone. "What happened?"
He was relieved that he might not have been personally responsible, at least not fully, but this gave him something else to worry about.
If Tristan would turn out to be as bad as Quiesko…
No, that couldn't be.
Tristan had been great ever since they'd started working together.
And he'd only been a little tense earlier, nothing else. He hadn't even lost his calm until Harry'd freaked out over the signalling charm, and that'd only been to shut Harry up.
And even if Tristan was somehow similar to Quiesko, then surely whatever was happening now would have happened before Tristan'd even been here, right?
Malfoy still hadn't responded.
"You summoned a Patronus?" Harry asked, wondering what angle to take.
"Shut up."
Ah, he sounded as if he felt better.
"I will if you talk, so tell me — what happened?"
No response, though Malfoy seemed to press his face into his knees even harder.
That couldn't be comfortable, considering how bony they were.
"Were you happy?" Harry'd tried to ask it without sounding like a dick.
He waited, but no response came.
"D'you think that's what the Residue is responding to?"
Still nothing.
"…do you want me to do my job?"
Nothing, still.
He waited a minute, actually counting down the seconds.
The figure loomed fainter and Malfoy just sat there, slightly trembling.
"Are you all right?"
Not even fucking crickets.
Last time Harry'd gotten a lot of information by pissing him off… Maybe that was the way to go about it?
"Mal-foy… What hap-pened…?" He asked, singsong, FieldScrolls ready for relevant information.
He might as well be talking to the fucking wall.
Not only that; he felt like a dick for having even tried that tone.
He sighed.
"Sorry - Look: You know I'm trying to help, don't you?"
Maybe he should get some tea after all, let Malfoy just… No, he might do something stupid if he was left alone.
What was he supposed to do then? Just wait?
Harry sighed again and made up his mind.
He was going to try to drag this out of him one more time but if he'd get no response, he'd hold off on questions and just focus on Beedle the fucking Bard.
"This is your bedroom, all right," He couldn't help but sound admonishing, his exasperation was hard to contain. "If you want me to do my job you've got to… — "
Malfoy promptly got up, swayed a little and leaned his back against the wall for support. The scowl melted off his flushed face.
His eyes were wet and he gazed ahead without focus, without expression. Then he extended his arm and pointed his wand at the door behind Harry.
It opened, the tap began to run, and Malfoy lowered his arm.
Like a zombie.
Then he walked to the bathroom as if under Imperio, stump passing near Harry's face.
The tip of the bandage was soaked, dripping with blood.
It had stained his white sleepwear.
Greyback's chair 'took its place' just after Malfoy'd passed the threshold, but it scooted forwards, blocking the doorway.
"Malfoy?" Harry asked when he'd regained himself.
No response.
He was ready to jump up in case it'd be too quiet there. "…did St. Mungo's give you anything in case you'd — "
There was a scoff, followed by a brief chuckle.
Harry cautiously got up and there was a chortle. This one sounded more amused.
Oh, shit.
"What's so funny?" Harry asked, bracing himself.
Malfoy stepped into sight, a broad, wry smile on his face. His eyes sparkled wetly as he stood in the doorway, touching the chair with his shin without acknowledging it.
! The bandage was gone - the bit of flesh that stuck out of the bloodstained sleeve looked like burnt meat.
It cost Harry effort to avert his eyes.
"Can you imagine I was upset about that hippogriff?" Malfoy laughed, his mouth like the Cheshire cat, his eyes gleaming with mad desperation.
He'd really lost it this time, hadn't he?
His cackles were tinged with hysteria and his eyes leaked unacknowledged tears as he raised the stump and looked at it.
! Near its end, Harry could distinguish two little areas that had a normal skin tone, but for the rest it was pitch black and looked like a poorly tied off sausage.
! Blood ran up his arm as he kept it raised, staining his sleepwear further.
! The blackness itself gradually split off into tendrils, as if he'd dipped it in ink, the amount of skin colour increasing closer to his shoulder.
It looked disgusting.
"Where's your Draught of Peace?" Harry asked, managing to keep his voice neutral.
Malfoy focused on him and the amusement drained off his face.
He lowered the stump and the red sleeve mercifully covered it.
Then he closed his eyes, his face taking on an unmistakable hint of green.
"Sit down," Harry suggested.
Malfoy staggered back and sat on the edge of the emerald tub.
He leaned forward and went to put his elbows on his knees.
…he didn't catch himself until he tried to lean his head in his hands.
Then he began to cry.