Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise. I do own my right to fantasize. See what I did there?
Chapter Seven – Life Debt
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"You don't want me here. I tortured people, I killed people without a second thought. I can kill the people you love, your family, I can kill you in your sleep. You can't..you can't trust me." I insist. This man may have done his research, the fact that I killed people was hidden from the public since I was a minor.
"I don't trust you, boy. But I trust my methods." The old man insists. "You were a coward back then, and you are still a coward now. I will beat that fear out of you, if I have to." He says confidently.
"No..no you don't understand. I can still feel it..I can still.." I scratch my branded arm, unconsciously touching the mark of a death eater which burns as soon as I remember what I was and what I have done. "The dark lord's command..I still have this urge..to harm anyone..I know that he is dead but.."
I cringe, feeling the invisible pain from my marked arm, for a moment I thought I saw the snake move out of the skull. But when I blinked a few times, I realized that the snake was not moving at all. The mark is simply a scar now, and yet I still have the urge..and I want to satisfy it..I do not think anything will.
"I'm not what I used to be..I know it. I spent years of isolation, conditioned to be lost in my thoughts and my regrets..I don't think I can handle anything more than my own past. Anything else will be a mere reflection. My past will always haunt me, and I am afraid that I will confuse the present with my past."
"Are you saying that you might not know what the past is and what is real? You think that you will confuse past with reality? Hurt someone when you lost parts of your sanity?" He analyzes.
I rub my tired eyes, and gaze at the death eater's mark on my arm.
"I have nothing against you, sir. I just cannot trust myself, because I lost the capacity to trust a long time ago. I confused loyalty with trust. And loyalty with fear. I don't know the difference between trust and loyalty. Because I have a fear for both. If I can't even trust myself, I cannot trust myself with others."
Seeing as he does not reply. I decide to reject his offer for sanctuary.
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't want to cause any more damage than I have already done. I plan to deal with my issues alone." I tell him properly.
"Enough." He says, finishing his drink and bringing his glass down with a loud tap.
"Pardon?" I ask, confused with his statement.
"I said enough. This conversation is not getting us anywhere. I am done convincing you the easy way. Obviously you lost too much of yourself in fear. You're afraid Drako, which is the reason why you do not know the meaning of trust or loyalty." He takes a small knife that was hiding from his leather boot.
He then takes the knife in order draw blood from his palm.
"W-what are you doing?" I ask, alarmed at his actions.
"You were treated like an animal by your former master, conditioned to eventually die with or without his presence. You think that you conformed his ideals." He says, taking my right arm without my consent. Curious with his actions, I let him take my right arm and watch him draws blood from my own hand.
"You doubt yourself, your capacity." He grabs my bleeding hand with his own injured palm, making sure that our wounds are in parallel with each other, that he squeezes hard. His action exudes a painful sting. "You lost your own identity and you need something or someone to trust another human being."
He then gazes at me with determination and a hint of guilt. "This might not be the one you are looking for. But this will be a start, syn." He states, before uttering Latin towards no one in particular.
"Per sanguinem heredes, debitum vitae honoratur." He states.
And then something phenomenal happens.
Ancient rune symbols started glow from the man's arm, surrounding his bleeding hand then transferring to my own. The runes interact with the shared blood, making a unique array of symbols that settle on both of our wrists. When the glowing subsides, three symbols remain: Mannaz, Odal, and Dagaz.
The old man successfully conducted and completed and ancient cast.
What was the spell? What was the Latin that he used?
Per sanguinem heredes, debitum vitae honoratur.
Through the blood of heirs, the debt of life is honored.
If I recall my runes back in Hogwarts, Mannaz means Man, Odal means Nobility or Protection, and Dagaz means Time. The symbols that are now etched into my right wrist, depict the taking and giving of life.
An ancient Life Debt, a life debt made three generations ago, based on the number of runes.
The old man cast a runic spell, in order to collect a life debt.
"Was that..was that a life debt?" I ask.
"Yes, a very strong and ancient one. I didn't think it would work so well." He confides with mild surprise.
"But..but how?" I ask, instantly regretting my question.
"If you are asking me how I was able to cast magic, I am a half-blood. And half-bloods do have the same magical capacity like any witch or wizard."
"I'm sorry. That was not what I meant. What I mean was..well, my father told me that Malfoys who were exiled will never enter the magical realm again. He said that my ancestors had an agreement with the ministry, which prevents exiled family from entering the magical realm. I just thought that.."
"You thought that I wouldn't have any knowledge on making or casting magic?" The old man finished for me. "Yes, you are right about that. Your great grandfather made sure that my grandfather Faustus and his children would never return from the muggle realm. My grandfather had no intentions to do so."
"Then how were you able make the cast? How did you know about it?"
"It has been taught to me by my father, and father was taught by my grandfather. Faustus Malfoi said that we may use it someday when a situation requires it to do so. I planned to teach the cast to my son, but seeing as you are the only heir of your side of the family, I do not think teaching him is necessary."
"What is this life debt for? This life debt is.." I look at the new marks on my arm. The runes look fresh and alive compared to my death eater mark. The runes glisten with pure innocent untarnished magic. Knowing that death eater mark pale in comparison to the runes that I now have, is strangely comforting.
"The life debt that Professor Snape taught us, in Hogwarts..the school that I studied, was not as complicated as this one." I inform, showing the runes on my arm.
"Our great grandfather might have disowned my grandfather Faustus. But Abraxas, your grandfather, still cared for his brother. When they were just children, Faustus protected Abraxas and saved your grandfather's life a couple of times. Abraxas wanted to return the favor someday." He explains.
The old man takes a small picture frame standing on a bookshelf, and shows it to me.
The picture frame carries a picture of my grandfather and a man I am not familiar with. My grandfather Abraxas was usually controlled and unresponsive to affection, so I find myself intrigued to find him laughing with this stranger who shares similarities with my grandfather. This stranger is Faustus.
Both Abraxas and Faustus appear to be enjoying drinks at a terrace with a view. The brothers were not at all posing for the camera, they were just enjoying each other's company. And maybe sharing a joke.
"Before my grandfather was exiled, Abraxas offered the life debt, which you currently have. Seeing as there is a possibility that they may never see each other again, Abraxas wanted the life debt to be passed down to the next generation. If my grandfather passes away, the life debt can still be collected."
He points out the runes that are on my wrist, counting them one by one.
"Three generations of uncollected debt, was not enough for your grandfather. Abraxas decided that if the next generation wishes for assistance from his family, there would be no limit. Therefore, the life debt was further designed to be strengthened for every generation of my grandfather's family."
"You mean this life debt will never end?" I ask, flabbergasted at the turn of events.
The old man gives me a conniving grin. I don't know if he was merely joking or being serious.
"The debt can end if I am satisfied. The point is that three generations have past, and thus the life debt will be practically limitless. Ethics and morals will make way for the debt to be completed. Even though I will make you do sinister things, you have no choice but to comply with my command." He states.
My vision becomes blurry for a few moments, hearing his explanation becoming more and more dire is coaxing me to have a violent reaction. I tried to rise from the bed, to better protest and confront what appears to be a second agreement on years of mindless turmoil. But he holds my shoulders down.
"Of course, like any life debt, I am still restricted to one specific order for you." He explains.
"And what would that order be?" I ask, gritting my teeth.
He takes my branded arm with the hand he used to cast the spell, and then the runes started to glow once more. This time, I see runes on his own right arm as well, reacting to the incoming flow of casting. The old man is attempting to give an order. The magic is powerful and all encompassing. I cannot abstain.
"As the surviving current heir of Faustus Malfoi, I command through the life debt promised, that Draco Malfoy shall serve my family in areas which I shall fit him to do so. This order shall be satisfied upon my death, but only through the absolute agreement of servitude which my family is promised to attain."
Having stated his order, the magic is officially sealed. I can sense a change within my magical core, a binding pull towards the core of another. Only wizards can agree to this oath, and the magic is certain.
After a bout of blinding light, the runes on my right arm cease to radiate. The same runic symbols are now showing on the old man's wrist. Compared to mine, his runes are dull and faded. The order is done.
The cast was exhausting, it took a toll on both of us. Especially on the old man.
"It appears I will be skipping dinner for the night. I did not expect to be fatigued after casting the life debt. Well, I did not expect to be casting the life debt at all to be honest. A lot of surprises this evening." He states, standing with a slight wobble and then slowly making his way to the door of the room.
"Since you are not in the mood to publicly show yourself with the family, I will ask the maid to bring some food from the kitchen. Get some rest, and I expect you to join us for dinner tomorrow."
"Haven't you realized what you've done?" I question, causing him to pause.
"I serve you now. How are you any different from my former master?" I defiantly point out.
"You are right, syn. In many ways, you will find that I am similar to your dark lord." He states. The old man then turns and expresses a grim face. "But eventually, you will realize that I am also very different. I won't make you do things that will make you lose yourself to pain and fear. I will make you stronger."
This man was never ordinary from the start, the signs were all there.
He is demanding and manipulative, expecting people to do what he says without hesitation. He is used to taking the upper hand, and refuses to concede with anything beyond his decision. A strategist who exudes respect, he understands the mind of a leader and follower. Because he dealt with many.
I remember the young man in a tuxedo who accompanied the old man in the hospital, the man was respectful towards him. His name was Lev, at least that is what the old man called him. The young man bowed slightly, and followed the old man's ordered without hesitation or delay. Lev respects him.
And the word he called the old man. It was not the old man's name.
The word he used was…Pakhan.
Pakhan..
My eyes widen, reacting to the storm of memories that I go through.
I have heard that name before. It was a distinct name..no..it is a distinct title.
A Pakhan is..the highest authority for a Mafiya. The Russian Mafia.
When I was a boy, I heard it many times. It was a word directed to a man.
A man who looks like Faustus Malfoy.
My eyes glance down to the picture frame that depicts two brothers. Behind Abraxas and Faustus, armed men are composed in the background. The men are distant enough so as not to bring attention right away, but there they are. The men seemed stoic, but they are actually focused on their jobs.
They are body guards of course, security for an important person.
A Pakhan.
Faustus Malfoy was a Pakhan. A Pakhan is a position..and this position was inherited by his son.
Faustus Malfoy's son is Vladimir Malfoi.
Vladimir Malfoi is the Pakhan of a Russian Mafia.
This old man in front of me, seemingly defenseless and unassuming, is a Pakhan.
"What is going on in that head of yours?" The old man asks, noticing my vacant pause.
"I may not have remembered much of my childhood in Moscow, and I cannot speak the language you speak. But I do remember one word: Pakhan. The man named Lev, the one who was with you at the hospital, he called you that word." I state carefully, watching as his face expresses a hint of surprise.
"It appears that I have underestimated your capacity to focus." He says, complimenting me.
His attempt to compliment my observation did not deter me from making my assumption.
"Is that who you are? Are you a leader of a Russian Mafia, a leader of organized crime?" I ask.
He merely raises his brow and grins ominously.
"Just tell me what you really want to ask, syn." He says.
"Are you going to make me torture others, are you going to make me kill people?" I say with a tremble.
"In my line of work, killing and torturing others is an everyday chore." He admits.
My heart stopped. I was not expecting him to answer so bluntly.
"I expect you to come to dinner tomorrow, syn. Do not be late, the runes will burn you." He tells me, before leaving the room.
I am now left with my own demise, alone to realize the possible situation of being condemned yet again.
I listen to the clock hanging on one area of the room. The sound of the clock's ticking hand, does not flood out the sound of crickets singing outside of the window, and wind continues to chill my face. The cool breeze brushes my damp hair, lazily combing through the tense and feverish skin of my head.
Eventually I thaw myself out, and permit myself to express an ounce of despair.
"Why is this happening again..How could you..how could you do this to me?" I slowly react, asking my questions to no one in particular. Perhaps my questions are intended for the old man, or perhaps to a higher supernatural being. I turn my hands into fists, doing my best not to draw water from my eyes.
This is, by far, the worst possible situation that I can be in.
.
In Hawaii…
And kicking back
Is where you'd find me
And somewhere underneath
The palm tree
On the island of Hawaii…
- Tom Felton