Chapter Fifty-Four – The Unbreakable Vow
Harry's detention with Professor Lupin was little more than an interrogation. He was questioned for over an hour about when he last spoke to Sirius, what had been said, and of course – where he was hiding. But Harry withstood the inquisition. The Chamber did not appear on the map. Lupin could search every hallway and secret corridor, and he would never find him. For the moment, Sirius was still safe.
He won back the use of his wand, but he was not in the clear. Every day, Harry wondered how soon he would be called to the headmaster's office. How much longer would it be before Dumbledore and Fudge forced him to reveal what he knew of Sirius Black's location?
A week passed, and the moment never came. Lupin had not reported to the headmaster as anticipated. Harry and his friends reasoned that this could mean only one thing. He wanted to capture Sirius himself.
Harry had done his best to avoid the professor after his detention was served, but he was surprised that Lupin made no effort to approach him again. Perhaps he'd realized that Harry would never willingly give up Sirius, no matter what tactic he used. Or he had already formed a new plan, and was merely waiting to catch Harry off-guard.
Harry began to grow jealous of Millie and Blaise. They had not ventured to Gryffindor tower with him, and were therefore relatively free from suspicion. It became their responsibility to provide food and companionship to Sirius, taking the job in shifts. Millie in particular volunteered her assistance more often than not. She was still getting help with her potion, and it looked less odd for her to make trips to the girls' lavatory.
Just when Harry thought things couldn't get any more hopeless, he received a note from Hagrid. It announced that Buckbeak's hearing had not gone as expected. Although Mrs. Zabini arrived in person to advocate for the gamekeeper and his hippogriff, it seemed that Blaise and Harry had overestimated her influence over the council members. In truth, Mrs. Zabini had effectively charmed several of the ministry men to her cause, but Mr. Malfoy's powers of intimidation proved more formidable over the majority. The result was decidedly against Buckbeak.
Mrs. Zabini's letter to Blaise almost immediately followed the note from Hagrid, delivered by her own owl, Mephistopheles. She explained that there would be an appeal. She had managed things so that the Minister for Magic himself would be present, along with a select committee member and of course, Mrs. Zabini herself. She knew Mr. Malfoy intended to be there as well, and she was not willing to give up without a fight.
Blaise glanced up from the letter to meet Harry's eye, "She said Malfoy requested they bring an executioner to the appeal. I don't think that sounds very good for Hagrid, do you?"
Harry mirrored his expression of guilt. He had been so busy with Sirius lately, he'd forgotten all about Buckbeak's trial.
"Let's go see Hagrid," Harry suggested immediately.
Millie was spending the morning in the Chamber with Sirius, so the boys were left to spend their free day with their long-neglected friend. They found Hagrid in a sorry state. He was sober, which was a blessing, but Harry almost preferred his drunken self to the silent, tragic wreck of a man they found in his cabin.
"I've been givin' 'em all the ferret 'e can eat," Hagrid said sorrowfully as he gazed out the window to where Buckbeak was tethered, "Figure it won' hurt ter spoil 'em a little now..."
"Don't talk like that, Hagrid," Harry said, "Mrs. Zabini hasn't given up yet, and Blaise and I are here now. We'll find some way to..."
Hagrid shook his head, dismissing Harry's next words.
"It's that Malfoy we have ter worry abou'. He's threatened those 'e could, an' paid off the rest. Yer mother was brilliant, Blaise! But I'm afraid it don' matter now. They've already made up their minds..."
"I bet Draco's thrilled right now," Blaise said. He, like Harry, was feeling waves of crushing disappointment for their many failures, and he needed a scapegoat. Draco was the perfect target. "He must be thinking he's stolen Harry's position on the team, and now he'll have a chance to get Buckbeak killed!"
Hagrid broke out of his mournful reverie and turned to face them with a confused expression, "Ey, now. What's this abou' stealin' Harry's position?"
"It's Flint," Harry explained, "He wants me gone since we lost the tournament."
"But yeh won the game!" Hagrid protested, "It weren' yer fault that Flint's damn Chasers can' score ter save themselves!"
Harry shrugged, but he was internally grateful for Hagrid's vehement support.
"Flint's going to graduate this year, anyway," he said, "So there's no guarantee I'm off the team. And I've still got the Firebolt so..."
He paused. An idea had just come over him. An idea that both caused his skin to crawl and filled him with hope for the first time since losing the Marauder's Map.
"Hagrid, I'm really sorry, but I've just thought of something! I'll see you later!" he said, grabbing his things and rushing out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.
Blaise was not far behind. He'd lingered a moment longer to apologize for their hasty exit, but his longer legs carried him close behind Harry in a few seconds.
"Harry!" he called, panting slightly, "Where are you going?"
"Where do you think Draco is at this moment?" Harry asked, no breaking stride.
"I don't know... The common room? Why?"
Harry didn't answer, and they didn't find Draco in the common room. Harry preferred it that way. He was sure that Draco would find a way to capitalize on what he was about to do, no matter what he tried, but Harry hoped to avoid a big scene. At the very least, their meeting might be private.
He was in luck. Draco was in their dormitory, sprawled on his mattress and reading a magazine. Crabbe and Goyle sat on the floor, bickering over the answer to a difficult potions problem Snape had told them was sure to be on the final exam.
Harry burst in on them with such sudden force that even Crabbe and Goyle, massive as they were, flinched in fear.
"Merlin's beard, Potter!" Draco shouted. "Who went and set your robes on fire?"
"You're going to tell your father that you lied about Buckbeak," Harry stated without preamble.
Draco gaped at him, "Who?"
"Buckbeak! The hippogriff your father is trying to murder! You're going to tell him and Fudge that you lied, and that Buckbeak is harmless!"
Crabbe and Goyle looked to their leader, clearly curious to see how he would respond. Harry remained standing on the other side of the room. He hadn't drawn his wand, so neither of the gigantic piles of muscle moved to defend Draco. This was a battle of wits, and they were useless to help.
Draco continued to stare blankly at Harry for another moment, then he made the connection. Staring at Harry with an expression of defiance, he said, "Make me."
Blaise immediately reached toward the wand in this pocket, but Harry stopped him. If Blaise made a move to physically threaten Draco, then his two cronies would surely spring into action. Crabbe and Goyle were slow when it came to brain power, but they were quick to act when it came to a fight. Harry was prepared to resolve this without violence.
"I don't have to," he said, "You'll do it on your own."
Draco was curious in spite of himself. He sat up on his bed, crossing his legs underneath him and looking at Harry expectantly.
"Go on, then. How do you plan to achieve this miracle?"
Harry hesitated only a moment, then with a deep breath, he replied, "I have something you want. I'll give it to you, but only if you tell the truth about Buckbeak."
Draco raised his eyebrows. "What could you possibly have that I would..."
"My Firebolt," Harry interrupted.
Blaise gasped and gripped Harry's shoulder, but Draco remained impassive.
"My father can afford an hundred Firebolts. Why should I want yours?" Draco asked.
"Because it's mine," Harry replied. It was an egotistical gamble, but he knew it would work. "You could have your dad buy you one, Draco, but it won't be Harry Potter's Firebolt. And unlike you... I don't have a dad who can just buy me a new one."
The last sentence was difficult for him to say aloud, but he knew it was necessary to tempt Draco into accepting his conditions. Stripped of his Firebolt, Harry would be less likely to get on the Quidditch team next year.
"You're off the team next year, anyway," Draco said, "Montague's already talked to me about taking back my old position. And the way you lost the tournament..."
"You're the one who pulled that cheap dementor trick!" Blaise blurted, Draco's audacity enough to break his usual composure.
"The worst they'll do is hold another try-out," Harry said, once again ignoring Blaise's outburst, "Do you really think they'll let me go if I have my Firebolt?"
Draco was convinced. He wanted the broom, but he was still hesitant.
"How do I know you won't go back on your word once I talk to the minister?" Draco asked, "You could keep the broom, and I'll get nothing."
"Well you can always tell your dad that I threatened you, and that Buckbeak really is as dangerous as you say. My broom will ensure that you'll keep your mouth shut when it's all over."
But Draco shook his head, "I don't like your plan, Potter. I want something more secure. How about an Unbreakable Vow?"
"A... what?" Harry asked.
Draco turned his gaze toward Blaise and sighed heavily, "Honestly, what is the point of being his friend if you don't teach him anything?"
Blaise returned his look with a glare, "Because an Unbreakable Vow is a perfectly stupid thing to suggest over a dumb broomstick!"
Nevertheless, the turned to Harry and explained, "It's a charm. More like a curse, actually. Two people make an agreement, and if one of them fails to hold up their end of the bargain... they die."
"Both of them?" Harry asked. Now that it had been explained, he was just as appalled by the suggestion as Blaise had been initially.
Blaise shook his head. "Just the one who failed to live up to the task, whatever it was. You'd be safe so long as you gave Draco your broom, like you promised."
Harry looked back at Draco's smug face. He could tell the blond-haired boy didn't think he would accept the terms. But Draco underestimated the affection Harry held for Hagrid, and the lengths
he was willing to go for Buckbeak to be spared.
"Fine," agreed Harry, "Blaise, do you know how to work the charm?"
Four faces gazed at him in surprise. Draco clearly did not think his ploy would get him this far, while Crabbe and Goyle merely looked impressed. Their turned their faces toward their leader, obviously waiting to see who would chicken-out first.
Harry expected Blaise to offer another protest, but to his surprise, he merely said, "I can... But Harry..."
He didn't allow Blaise to finish. Still looking at Draco without blinking, he asked, "So are we doing this, or what?"
Draco scrambled off his bed and stood before Harry, nearly as steady and resolute as Harry himself.
"You start," directed Harry, "How's it done?"
"We have to shake hands," replied Draco, extending his own. Once Harry had gripped it, he looked to Blaise expectantly.
Harry was certain that Blaise would drop out now, but to his mounting surprise, he merely groaned, lifted his wand, and muttered a charm under his breath. A silvery light looped out of the end of his wand. It twisted itself around Harry and Draco's hands, coiled oddly like the links of a very find, delicate chain. It felt cool against Harry's skin, but also firm, as if the thin stream of light were a cord of steel. He didn't think he could draw his hand away from Draco's if he tried.
Draco began, "Do you, Harry Potter, agree to give me the Firebolt currently in your possession, no substitute, and to never take it back from me in the future?"
"I swear it," Harry said.
"Millie is going to kill us when she finds out..." Blaise whispered in a mournful tone. Harry directed a warning stare at him to keep him silent.
"And do you, Draco Malfoy, pompous git, agree to tell your father, the Minister for Magic, and members of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures that Buckbeak is not dangerous, and that your injury was exaggerated?"
Draco frowned, though Harry wasn't sure if he was upset by the epithet, or if he were merely searching for loopholes in Harry's conditions. He finally gave a small nod and stated, "I swear it."
The shimmering light faded away. Harry dropped Draco's hand as if it was on fire. Every moment he'd had to tolerate the boy's touch had been torture to him, but he'd had to swallow his own pride. Buckbeak was saved, and more importantly, Harry had helped Hagrid.
Blaise could only stare at the ground and mutter to himself.
"Millie... my mum... They're both going to kill me."
Final exams were upon them at last. For Harry, it went better than expected. He managed a decent grade in his wand-making class, though he hadn't been able to cast a successful hovering charm with the wand he's created.
Professor Nobilis had inspected his work after witnessing the attempt, then cast the spell herself. The wand worked better for her than it had for Harry. She asked to see his regular wand, and held the two up for inspection.
"Most of the students in my class try to make a wand that closely resembles their own," she said, "But your wand is holly, while this one is..."
"Dogwood," Harry replied.
"And the core?"
"Dragon heartstring."
Professor Nobilis gave him a mischievous smile, "Then am I correct, Mr. Potter, in believing you crafted this wand with a different owner in mind?"
Harry returned her smile with a weak grin. He hadn't known what to say. He wanted good marks in the class, but he'd completely tossed aside his first wand and started over after meeting Sirius. The wand he'd made was meant for him, if it worked, but he couldn't tell his teacher that.
Professor Nobilis returned his holly wand to him, and gave his creation another experimental twist, causing the desks in the classroom to wobble and shake.
"Excellent craftsmanship," she declared, "And it's extremely difficult for amateur wand-makers to craft something that will suit them, let alone someone else. I'll have to deduct points for my smashed windows, Mr. Potter, but otherwise I'd say you pass."
Meanwhile, Millie had earned full marks in Transfiguration. This had been Harry's decided area of expertise before third year, having done most of the homework assignments for his friends in exchange for completed Charms or Defense Against the Dark Arts essays. Now even his score could not match Millie's, a fact that they all attributed to her secret work on the animagus ritual.
"It's taken a lot of research," Millie admitted, "And there are plenty of concepts you can apply to other things. Once you've learned how to brew a potion to turn yourself into an animal at will, it's fairly easy to turn a mouse into a snuffbox."
"If you say so," Harry replied, still looking over her final exam with interest, "But I still say if you're going to start earning grades like this, then you're going to have to do my Transfiguration assignments, as well."
Millie rolled her eyes, "And what do I get in exchange?"
"Potions," said Harry after a moment of thought, "I have a feeling it's about to become my best subject."
Now it was Blaise's turn to roll his eyes, "Just because you've got something on Snape doesn't mean you're going to become a potions wiz overnight!"
Harry had somehow managed to neglect telling his friends of Snape's secret. All they knew was that Snape's behavior had changed over the past few weeks. It was obvious that the Potions Master was avoiding Harry.
He did not make it easy for Snape. Harry waited after class to speak to him, ambushed him in the halls, and even approached him at the staff table during a meal. The question was always the same. "Tell me more about my mother." Harry was deeply curious. He had heard so many stories about James, but had yet to meet anyone who was close to his mother before her death. Snape had gone from mere bully to an untapped well of knowledge, and Harry knew now that he had the advantage over him.
As a result, Harry's prediction came true, and his marks on the Potions final were remarkably high.
The grade he received was a bribe, and Harry knew it. Snape wanted him to keep silent. And if Snape was willing to pay for Harry's silence on the subject that interested him the most, then surely Harry could exploit that in the future.
The only score that came as a surprise to no one was Blaise earning the highest marks in Charms. His Cheering Charm was the best in the class, while Millie had slightly overdone hers. Harry, who had been her partner, spent one afternoon in the hospital wing, doubled over with laughter that made his stomach muscles ache. Madame Pomfrey was able to find a potion to stifle his mirth, but even then, it was difficult to get him to stop laughing long enough to swallow a mouthful without choking.
Care of Magical Creatures was the final exam, and also the easiest. They had not moved on from flobberworms, and their only expectation was keeping the boring creatures alive until the final. Hagrid approached Harry while the rest of the class packed their things, hoping that they would never have to force-feed lettuce to the ugly worms ever again.
"It'll be this afternoon," Hagrid said, his face white with anxiety underneath his beard, "The minister arrived this very mornin'. An' Blaise's mum is here, too."
"You've seen my mum?" Blaise asked.
"Aye, she came down ter the cabin soon as she arrived. Mighty kind o' her ter come all this way fer ol' Beaky. But I don' see that it'll..."
"Don't say that, Hagrid," Harry said, not allowing Hagrid to finish the thought he'd repeated so many times, "We have a special witness that'll fix everything."
Hagrid wondered what he meant, but Harry, somewhat selfishly, did not want to spoil the surprise. He was looking forward to the dramatic moment when Draco spoke out, and the expression that would be on Mr. Malfoy's face. Hagrid wasn't the best at keeping his emotions in check, and Harry worried that if he said anything now, he'd give their secret away before he could collect Draco.
He and his friends wasted no time after speaking to Hagrid. Their exams were complete, and there was nothing left to do but prepare for the celebratory feast in the evening. They headed directly to their common room after determining the exact time of Buckbeak's appeal, and learned from a few first-years that Draco had already retired to their dorm.
Harry marched up the stairs, leading both Blaise and Millie.
"It's time," he said, standing between Draco and his only means of exit.
Draco had just changed out of his school robes and turned to Harry with a smug expression. There was no doubt he had received word from his father of his arrival, and could be at no loss for what Harry was talking about.
Be that as it may, he still attempted to feign ignorance, and asked Harry what it was time for.
Harry was already past his patience, but he decided to play along for now, and merely stated, "It's time for Buckbeak's hearing."
"Ah, good luck with that," Draco said, turning away from him to adjust his tie. Even out of uniform, Draco's casual wear was that of a wealthy young aristocrat. It was nauseating to look at him.
Harry could feel both anger and fear swelling inside him. It was all he could do to keep his voice modulated when he reminded Draco, "We had a deal. I already gave you my broom."
"Yes," Draco agreed, "In exchange for telling the minister and everyone else that the hippogriff is innocent. But you never specified when I had to tell them. I was thinking tomorrow morning would suffice."
Harry jumped at him. It was clearly not the reaction either of them had been expecting. Draco yelped in shock, but as Harry began slapping at him, pulling at his necktie, and ruffling his slick hair, Draco began hitting back in earnest. The result was a minor scuffle that left them both winded when Blaise and Millie pulled them apart.
"You're a coward and a liar!" Harry accused, trying to fight his way out of Millie's grasp, "I'll curse you and all of your future children! I'll see my Firebolt turn to ash before you ever fly it in a match! You'll regret ever betraying me!"
"Alright!" Draco shouted, angrily shrugging off Blaise's grip. Unlike Harry, he was done with their fight, "Alright, I'll go tell them now! Merlin's beard, Potter. You're as crazy as they say!"
Harry didn't bother to ask him what he meant. He was Harry Potter. Plenty of people had said worse things about him behind his back.
They led Draco out of the common room and down to Hagrid's cabin – somewhat by force. Draco tried fastidiously to straighten his tie and flatten down his hair as he was half-dragged along, but it didn't do much good. Both he and Harry were red in the face and rumpled in appearance. Harry came off slightly better of the two, because unlike Draco, who never had a hair out of place, Harry was always rather disheveled.
The must have been an odd sight to behold when they approached the cabin. Hagrid was already standing with the others. Dumbledore was gently trying to comfort him as he wailed loudly into a spotted handkerchief as big as some tablecloths. Mr. Mafloy was there, looking very smug at Mrs. Zabini, who seemed to be arguing with an elderly man while Minister Fudge looked on hopelessly.
"Harry!" Hagrid bellowed when he saw them drawing near, "Thank yeh fer comin', but it's too late... They've already decided..."
"Who's decided?" Mrs. Zabini said, her brown eyes flashing, "I seem to recall we were set for an appeal today. Why has MacNair been brought in?"
Harry's eyes fell on a sixth man, dressed all in black. Against Harry's expectation, his face was bare, as if he wanted to be recognized for the work he performed. He held a large axe in his hand, newly sharpened to perform its deadly task. He seemed only waiting for a signal from the minister to take a swing.
Harry was there to make sure that axe would never be used.
Since the moment Hagrid had shouted his name, almost all eyes had been turned toward the group of children. Only Mrs. Zabini continued to stare down the elderly wizard, no doubt the representative from the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Mrs. Zabini appeared to have dispensed with all pretense of charm, and was now using her powers of intimidation to storm over the committee member.
Mr. Malfoy directed a sour look at Harry. He held a grudge against him for the loss of his house elf, Dobby. Not to mention his foiled plan to reopen the Chamber of Secrets. Harry had never learned whether Mr. Malfoy understood what sort of evil that diary contained when he'd slipped it among Millie's schoolbooks, but he knew he would never forgive him. It was satisfying to watch his expression change from one of scorn to one of wonder as he realized that his son was standing at Harry's side.
"Harry?" Dumbledore said kindly. He did not appear surprised by the appearance of Harry and his friends in the slightest, "What brings you out here so late in the afternoon? It is dangerous to wander the grounds these days."
"Yes," said Minister Fudge, directing an anxious look at Harry, "I regret to say that with Sirius Black still on the loose..."
"I was referring to the dementors," Dumbledore said coolly.
He peered at Fudge over the edge of his half-moon glasses. The Minister cleared his throat with obvious discomfort.
"Yes, well. They are here for our safety, but... Well, it is rather, um, dangerous to be out these days. You children had best go back inside now."
"We came about Buckbeak," Harry said, "Draco has something to stay that might change your decision, sir."
He was not addressing Fudge, but the little old committee member who was now practically shaking under the force of Mrs. Zabini's glare.
"Draco?" Mr. Malfoy asked, clearly at a loss for words.
He was staring at his son, his expression difficult to read, though Harry could see Draco faltering under his scrutiny. He stood, staring back at his father in mute embarrassment, with his hair sticking out in odd places, shirt wrinkled, and tie askew. He was certainly not as polished as Harry could have hoped for his star witness, but then again, he was partly to blame.
For a brief, terrible moment, it seemed that Draco would not confess. But Harry and Millie, standing on either side of Draco, were just as intimidating as his father, and Draco had agreed to terms that would kill him if he didn't speak up.
Draco took a deep breath and said, "This was all a misunderstanding. The day that Hag... That the professor was giving instructions, I couldn't hear him very well. I thought he said we could approach the hippogriff directly, so I did what I thought was right. If I had heard the directions, the hippogriff wouldn't have attacked me."
He spoke with as much poise and confidence as Harry could wish, given the circumstances. Harry didn't think even his father would be able to convince the Minister that he'd been coerced. Still, Harry pressed down on his foot and whispered to him from the corner of his mouth.
"Your injury..."
Draco glared as if to say "I know" and quickly added, "My arm wasn't hurt that bad, anyway. It was just a scratch."
Mr. Malfoy didn't know how to respond. If he contradicted his son openly, he risked damaging their own testimony by claiming that Draco's word wasn't reliable. And insinuating that Harry had threatened him would raise more questions. Harry did not wait for him to think of a new strategy. Instead, he stepped forward, and offered to give them all a demonstration of the proper way to address a hippogriff.
It was over in a moment. Harry approached Buckbeak with cautious respect. Buckbeak eyed Harry with the familiarity of an old friend, and responded with a deep, bent-clawed bow to Harry's greeting. To further illustrate his point, Harry even walked up to the creature, patting its neck feathers with affection, and pulled himself onto his back.
He heard a gasp of surprise from Fudge and the committee member, but Mrs. Zabini, who had heard of Harry's flight on the same hippogriff in a letter from Blaise, and Hagrid, who had seen it himself, were unfazed. Mr. Malfoy remained silent, but his mouth looked pinched, as if he had just swallowed a lemon.
"Well, Cornelius," Dumbledore said pleasantly as Harry slid off Buckbeak's back and rejoined their group, "I think that settles the matter."
Minister Fudge hemmed and nodded, "Yes, it certainly seems like the creature is docile enough, when properly managed. Where did you learn to handle hippogriff so well, Mr. Potter?"
"Hagrid," Harry said, almost defensively, "He's a fantastic professor. He taught me everything I know about magical creatures."
"Yes... In light of this new testimony I don't think... That is, I believe Mr. Melliferous would not disagree if we dropped the charges?"
The little wizard nodded his head in eager agreement, and seemed ready to faint with relief when it was suggested that they all retire to Hagrid's cabin for a drop of tea.
Hagrid wrapped Harry in a great bear hug, tears of joy streaming over his cheeks and soaking into his beard. He was so happy he was ready to invite them all for tea, even Mr. Malfoy. He, naturally, declined the invitation, and swept away with his son in tow. No doubt Draco would receive a lecture for embarrassing his father in front of the Minister for Magic.
If Harry had a spare thought for Draco at that moment, he might have felt sympathy for him. But all Harry could feel was the pride of a job well done. He was optimistic for the first time in a long while, and his thoughts quickly turned back to Sirius, wondering if there wasn't some way for him to resolve his problem at last.
Dumbledore spoke up, "I am sorry to interrupt your celebration, but as it is getting rather late, I think it would be best for us to retire. Harry, you must allow me to escort you and your friends back to the castle."
Harry glanced at the headmaster with an expression of guilt he didn't truly feel.
"I'm sorry we left the castle so late, sir." he said.
"And spared an innocent life in the process?" Dumbledore replied with a smile, "I think we can pardon the transgression on this occasion, Harry."
Dumbledore extended an invitation to Mrs. Zabini as well, offering her a room in the castle for the night.
"Thank you, Albus, but I must decline. I have a room with Rosmerta at the Three Broomsticks."
She hugged her two boys at parting, telling them both that she would accompany them back to Ascending Downs the following day, now that their exams were over. For now, they were free to return to the castle with the headmaster, in high spirits, ready to enjoy the evening feast.