Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter.

CHAPTER 4 - AWAKENING


He was running through a dark chamber, a tunnel, and all around him he could hear whispers, echoes - memories of his school days, of his years as a Death Eater, of the first few years of his freedom. He could hear his father's voice - the father he had worshipped, and who had tried so hard to keep out of Voldemort's clutches - whispering, talking in his memory.

"...The Lord of a Clan, of an estate, is wed to their land, and the land is wed to the lord. But the Malfoy..." here he paused, turned and looked out over the green, primeval mountains of Gwynedd, the land that the Malfoy had called home since time immemorial. "The Lord of Clan Malfoy is one with his land - and the land is one with the Lord..."* Marcus Malfoy smiled sadly. "The Covenant, my dear boys, is the joy and curse of our lives. It defines us, binds us, restrains us, and gives us the power to soar.and it can never, ever be broken."


He faded away, and another voice took his place, another face dispelled the fair hair and silver eyes. "Forever, Luc - forever and a day, as long as the blood still runs and the vows retain their strength..." Kate Evans, the girl he had loved, and lost at Hogwarts, and had buried in a Muggle cemetery because that's what she had wanted, because she had been Muggle born herself, and he had loved her despite her parentage, despite the complete lack of blood or lineage in her background.

Being a bastard himself, and standing no chance of inheriting the mantle of Clan Lord, he might even have gotten away with marrying her...if fate had not intervened, as it had a very nasty habit of doing. She had died, and he had moved on, but the vows he had spoken, the protection he had given her - the protection that had allowed a Muggle born witch with a sister in Gryffindor to survive in Slytherin, especially back then - was still binding upon him; she was gone, as was her sister, but part of her lived on, in her nephew's green eyes. And the vows he had given to her had been transferred to her nephew, her blood.

Another voice, somewhat less pleasant or welcome, took her place. Lord Voldemort, as he had been years ago, before a mother's love and a lost lover's Covenant had combined to bring him down. A compelling face - bold lines, strong angles, and the eyes of a zealot, of a man who would destroy everything for the sake of his vision - burn away the old and the impure, the unworthy and the unbelieving, and build the whole world again from the ashes.

He would make a desert, and he would call it peace.

And his voice - oh, the voice of a prophet, or a messiah - speaking of unspeakable atrocities and making them sound necessary, even reasonable; the sacrifices one makes, he had once said, in order for the vision to become reality. One had to be cruel to be kind - there were times when only surgery could save a life, and going under the knife was the only way. Luc had never believed in his teachings, but he had gone along because it had provided a very good opportunity to dispose of inconvenient relatives who stood in the way of his becoming tai-pan. Others, however, had believed.

Severus Snape, cynic and atheist, scholar and searcher, but still, under all the masks, a sixteen year old boy who had just escaped death with his greatest enemy's assistance, and had immediately after lost all his faith in the last, most incorruptible figure he had ever met, had been more than ready to listen to assurances that yes, he was appreciated; yes, Black and Potter and Lupin should have been punished; and yes, oh yes, one day he would make them all pay. He had believed, for a time - until his natural intelligence had reasserted itself, until his conscience suddenly manifested, until he realized that this was not what he wanted from life. He hadn't known that Luc had been watching the slow awakening, watching the night he suddenly snapped and headed back to the only place he had ever called home.

And there he was - Albus Dumbledore, in all his glory, who had not changed at all in Luc's lifetime, who would probably never change - the twinkling blue eyes, the white beard and half-moon glasses that all contributed to the air of omnipotence comfortably disguised by absent-minded eccentricity. In his own way, the man's true self was as masked and disguised as the most paranoid of Slytherins - under those eyes and that absent-mindedness was a very formidable intelligence, with the determination and patience to match. Albus, whose only weakness were the children he loved so unreservedly, the golden Gryffindors, courageous and light-hearted, the Hufflepuffs, loyal and steady, sweet and uncomplaining, and the Ravenclaws, intelligent and curious, disciplined and balanced.

And, despite what they may think, he had even loved the Slytherins - the difficult, insolent, arrogant and skittish Slytherins, so wary of anything given gratuitously, so dangerous with their morals shaped by a different moral code, where power was the only absolute, where everything was shaped by the Game, and the only rules were the ancient laws of the High Clan - of which, in more than a hundred years of life, he had never yet managed to learn, but that even the smallest Slytherin seemed steeped in.

How could Luc see so clearly into the Headmaster? It was as if he could read the thoughts before they came, before they were translated into facial movements and shifts of the eyes. Why was he still running through the dark tunnel, when he could clearly see the sun, feel something solid beneath his back, and know that he was lying down on the grass in the sun?

What was he doing on the grass...? Oh, yes...there was something about students...? And Death Eaters...! Consciousness returned with a rush. He could feel his heart beating, feel the heartbeat echo, as if hundreds of other hearts were beating in time with it, feel hundreds of chests rise with every breath, feel the terror of the minds he had simply overpowered and taken over for their own survival, the bodies he had slaved to his own, and the power that still poured out of him, in a steady continuous rush, that had made it all possible.

There were nearly eight hundred students whose hearts were beating with his - and every one of them, now, was bound to him and he to them by magical bonds - he'd defended them, had given up his blood for them, (this is my blood, which shall be given up for you...) and now he was irrevocably bound to extend his protection, ensure they survived, after he had interfered so with their normal lives. As if he hadn't enough to protect - Kate's nephew; Draco, Nick and Marc and the rest of the de Sauvigny; Snape, who was under Malfoy patronage and had been since he was eleven; and all the others he'd taken under his wing throughout the years. Now he was bound to the whole of Howarts' student body.

Now he understood what his father had meant.

***********************************

Minerva McGonogall watched, faintly disturbed, as Luc gingerly opened his eyes, squinted, and picked himself up off the ground. None too steady on his feet, he promptly lowered himself back to a sitting position, knees drawn up and head hanging down between them, breathing slowly and deeply.

Then, after he had regained his breath, he raised his head and looked straight at her, his silver eyes still direct and far too perceptive. She remembered those eyes from his school days - they had always been far too old for his age, and they had always managed to disconcert her. And he had known it - of course, he had known it. Even then, he had been able to read them all so clearly - along with Severus Snape and his brother Lucius, the three of them had been the brightest students the school had ever seen, unsurpassed until Hermione Granger had come to Hogwarts.

Had they been anything other than Slytherins, the staff would have been absolutely delighted with them - however, because they had been sorted into the Serpent House, they were regarded with caution, as potential threats, as junior Death Eaters.
Severus had balked, fought back and lashed out, wielding his intelligence like a weapon; Lucius had simply ignored the harassment, supremely secure in the knowledge that he would one day be Lord Malfoy and that the taunts were beneath him. But Luc - Luc had simply watched with those cool, dispassionate eyes that saw everything and reflected nothing, and had given the impression that he was storing it all up for later, waiting patiently for a more opportune time to act.

And that had scared her more than anything else the other two had ever done. Inside, she was still faintly wary of him - she had been less than pleased to hear that he would be taking up the vacant DADA position. She'd been drinking tea with Albus, discussing the new year, when he'd sprung the surprising announcement on her.

***************(Flashback)**************

"Lucien Malfoy."

Minerva had watched, stunned. Of all the possible candidates, that was definitely not the name she had been expecting to hear. "Luc Malfoy?!"

"Mmhmm." There was a world of rich amusement in Albus' blue eyes - he had always enjoyed putting people off balance, watching their reactions when disconcerted.

"That's ridiculous," she dismissed flatly. "The man is a predator of the worst sort. Besides, he's practically a Death Eater." Everyone knew it, even if there had never been a shred of evidence.

"My dear, that was never proven. Besides, what do you think Severus is?"

To her mind, there was absolutely no similarity between Snape and Luc Malfoy. "Severus repented. He came back to us." Snape actually showed some sign of a human conscience - Luc was nothing but a cold-blooded killer, to her mind.

"Yes, he did. He is a very good man, under all the thorns and masks. But quite frankly, he is not very well regarded in society. He is an academic, when we need a leader. He appears evil, when we need public opinion firmly on our side." He held up a hand, forestalling her automatic outrage. "I know, I know. It's impossibly shallow - but we cannot win this war on our own. We need to convince the people that Voldemort -" she flinched, "has returned, and we need to get them on our side. And Luc Malfoy, the very influential leader of a very powerful House, will help us achieve that."

"It's too dangerous. Do you know what he's like, under all that charm?" Charm she had always seen through - charm that was a lie once you looked straight into his eyes.

"Oh yes. Yes, he's quite ruthless, a conscienceless killer, and implacable once he's set his mind on a goal. But if he brings that focus towards our goals..." He trailed off, a little reluctant to finish that sentence. It didn't sit well with him, playing the Game - he could do it out of necessity, but had never been comfortable with it.

"You'd let him influence the children? He'll teach them all to be ruthless and self-serving." She bit that off, and had the grace to flush when he looked mildly, reprovingly at her.

"Your Gryffindor bias is showing, Minerva." She scowled, on the defensive, and he held up his hands innocently. "I doubt one year will be long enough for him to corrupt anyone - especially if the students hold true to what they know is correct. And as for the Slytherins...they will follow and absorb his teachings, but he will not nudge them towards the Dark side. He is not a Death Eater."

"You know this?" Still upset, but a little mollified.

"I'm certain." And when Dumbledore said that, in that tone, he meant it. She frowned deeply as she considered his words, but in the end her faith in him won out. She nodded, once, sharply, and then changed the subject.

******************(end flashback)**************

Blinking, she came back to the present, watching as Draco Malfoy, the epitome of the spoiled, arrogant High Clan heir, followed by his lieutenant Nick de Sauvigny hurried (with dignity) to his uncle's side, offering his hand, or his shoulder, should Luc need assistance in rising. For once he hadn't taken the opportunity to insult any of the other students, and was actually acting in a quite mature, adult manner.

What in Merlin's name was wrong with him?

She saw Marc de Sauvigny watching, caught his eye, and then slid her gaze over to the two Malfoy, raising an eyebrow. Marc, following her gaze, raised his in turn. He walked over to her, hands in his pockets of his robes, and looked at her in faint curiosity - an expression he had, no doubt, picked up from his cousin. "Since when did Mr. Malfoy start acting with maturity?" she asked, jumping straight to the point.

Marc kept his face straight, but the small lines around his eyes creased as his eyes narrowed imperceptibly in a wince. "Draco has always been capable of maturity, Professor," he murmured softly. "Perhaps he felt it was called for."

"And it is not called for at school?" she retorted, perhaps a little indiscreetly, considering her audience - Marc's face closed up and became completely impassive, not pleased with the line of questioning, but not able to say anything to his Head of House. She had forgotten his blood tie to the Malfoy - his father had been Caine de Sauvigny, Luc's half-brother - so, in a way, he and Draco were cousins. Unthinking, she had spoken to him as she would to a random Gryffindor sharing the normal prejudice - she'd forgotten he was High Clan...

"My apologies, Mr. de Sauvigny," she apologized formally. Merlin, the High Clan, most of them Slytherins, were so difficult to deal with... usually Severus dealt with them, being a Slytherin and a son of one of the original Clans himself - but occasionally they were sorted into other Houses.

Marc's father had been the ideal Gryffindor, and had caused Minerva relatively little trouble (other than the pranks and the high spirits), but Marc - Marc had been raised by Luc, steeped in the culture and customs of the High Clan, and raised on Slytherin morals, traditions and values. There were times when it seemed he was more comfortable with the Slytherins than with his own Housemates.

*****************************

With a strangely formal nod, Marc acknowledged the apology, and walked back to offer his assistance along with his cousins'. Well, truth to tell, only Draco was his cousin - Luc was his father's brother, and Nick - Nick was the youngest son of Aethan and Anne de Sauvigny, which made him Luc's youngest half-brother, and Draco and Marc's uncle...something he held over their heads at every opportunity. But he wasn't thinking of small things like that now - he was still too shaken by the thought of how close they had all come to death, and of Luc's still, pale form lying crumpled on the floor. That had been the most frightening thing about this whole nightmare of a day - the knowledge that Luc, normally so invulnerable and reliable, was a man - nothing more, nothing less.

No one wanted to learn that about their father.

Nick, who had been brought up with him like a brother, was thinking the same thing, he knew - he could see it in the way he watched Luc, in the way he'd stuffed his hands in his robes, to hide the shaking. And Draco, who already had a father, but was just as reliant on Luc, was showing it through the mature behaviour and the way he'd completely ignored any opportunities to bait, insult or terrorise the other students.

Normally he reveled in it, playing the stereotypical bully for the benefit of any spies among the students, seeing how nasty and immature he could become - he didn't care what others thought of him, he knew who and what he was and what he was like, and anyone who didn't care to see past the mask and the ridiculously clichéd behaviour knew what they could do with their disapproval... But now was not the time for playing games, especially not with Crabbe and Goyle so skittish, and so suspicious of the way he and Potter had joined forces. There were times, thought Draco, who had learned about the Game at the feet of the two foremost players in England, when he wished he could simply dispose of the two fools and be done with the charade of Death Eater in-training; but the consequences for him, his father and his uncle, especially now, were too high.

Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer - an old cliché, but it was true. It was safer to have Crabbe and Goyle by his side where he could monitor them and control what they saw and how they interpreted it. They were not the most intelligent of companions, but they were occasionally useful...and if he wanted companionship, he would look elsewhere. Marc, Nick and Draco were like two brothers and a particularly close cousin - they could read each other like open books, could anticipate the others' moves. They might fight amongst themselves, and quite viciously occasionally, but should anyone else step between them...all three would gang up together against the new threat.

They knew they could rely on each other for anything, no questions asked, no price or strings attached. They shared blood - and that was the strongest bond of all. They were family, and in the High Clan, that was everything.

********************************

Standing on his own two feet now, Luc let go of his nephews' shoulders, looked around at the Hogwarts Express, so silent and eerily still, standing dead in its tracks. The students whom he had not shielded were scattered around on the grass - there were between twenty and thirty of them, all black robed, with the two of the Nine still surviving watching, guarding, from a slight distance away, and the teachers clumped in a group off to the side.

They were all watching him expectantly.

Grimacing slightly, because his ears were ringing like they hadn't done since he and the rest of his school friends had snuck off to see the Muggle band Queen play live in Hyde Park - and had been caught in the very front row near the speakers (what did young people call that area now? The mosh pit? What a curious term...) he stood and tested the magic that bound him and the students.

It was old, old magic used mainly by healers, before the Ministry had outlawed it - he remembered coming across it when researching for a DADA assignment, and it had had such interesting and potentially useful applications that he'd made a point of remembering it. He'd tried to use it when Kate had been injured, but hadn't been powerful or skilled enough to completely pull it off - and she'd died, so he'd consciously forgotten this technique...until now, when in desperation he'd used it as a last resort shield. It was the first time he'd ever employed it successfully - although he'd make it a point not to mention that when he made his report to Dumbledore. There was no need to worry the man unnecessarily.

Nevertheless, the magic held strong - their heartbeats were synchronized with his, he could, if he so wished, enter their bodies and heal them, or break them...there were really only twenty or so who were severely injured, he didn't think any of them were dead - he had been able to shield them before any of the Killing Curses hit.

So, focusing on all who wouldn't die the moment he stopped breathing for them, he dissolved the bond slowly, allowing them to wake up naturally, giving them time for their involuntary bodily functions to begin acting independently from his before he let go completely. And then, making sure he kept firm hold of the critically injured students, he severed the bond completely, and felt them come back to consciousness with the fading vestiges of his magic.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief.

And then he fainted again; this time going under so completely not even his dreams followed him down.

*****************************

"The land is wed to the Lord, and the Lord to the land." from Robert Jordan's "The Eye of the World", somewhat modified.