Chapter XVII: The Puppet Master
His arms felt broken all over with his joints disconnected almost as much as his mind. Half of words mumbled into his thoughts, some vowels and consonants here and there that echoed throughout his throbbing skull. Such a singeing pain touched his brow that Ron believed a hot, iron rod branded him ever so slowly.
"A nasty blow you took my lad," a man's voice said.
"Huh?" Ron asked, half looking up at a blurred shadow.
With every second the room focused more clearly, and Ron could make out the figures of those he saw not too long ago. However, the arched window that staggered ten feet high was now shattered, and Dumbledore was nowhere in sight. In his place, another man shadowed over Ron, but his left hand was extended downward, as if to help Ron up.
"Be a good lad, and get up," he said and gripped Ron's shoulder. He pulled his aching body off the ground, letting pieces of a shattered brick fall to the ground. "That chunk of the ceiling hit you hard. I was hoping you did not die."
"Ceiling? What?" Ron asked, still in a daze.
"Mister Weasley, can you see me?"
Ron blinked his eyes a few times and looked at the man holding him by the shoulders. A man, six feet tall with slender legs underneath a tattered robe, stood before him. His face was fallen, thin and frail. A thick golden mustache covered his upper lip while a few strands grew out of his chin. His head, half balding, was covered with a thick, black pointed hat that tilted to the right. Underneath his large spectacles were beady gray eyes resembling very much of Minerva McGonagall.
"Who are you?"
"My friends call me unnatural names. You will call me Theodore."
"As in McGonagall?" Ron asked, remembering the newspaper titles about him being sent to Azkaban prison or at least standing trial for being a Death Eater.
"The very same. Now tell me, if that bump on the noggin did not affect your memory, which for the both of our sake I hope it did not, what do you about my sister?"
"Professor McGonagall? She is brilliant witch! She knows more than anyone I know, maybe even Hermione. She would never be a Blue Blood, no matter what you people say about her."
"By choice, she would not. But, I have ways of persuading my sister and others like her. I possess a gift that no others can touch, and that makes me special. And special people deserve special things as my Muggle part of the family always used to say."
"You are part Muggle? How are you with the Blue Bloods then?" Ron asked, knowing fully well that Blue Bloods were only pure blooded wizards.
"That is the point! I will no longer be merely a shadow of a man or a shadow of wizard. I have been promised by Him the blood of the unicorn so that I can be pure, like I was meant to be! It is not fair! My sister is a pure blood and look at her! Before I contacted her, she was wasting her life away in this wretched school. Now, look at her! She will be one of the few saved.
"It was not easy getting hold of her. I was captured as a Death Eater and forced to wait in Azkaban to await my trial just so I could be returned to the very damned place! To Hell with justice and good will, my lad! To Hell with it! I knew I was meant for greater things. That is when He came to be and offered a place with him, as a pure blood and wizard. He came to me in a vision as I slept and told me about whom I needed to speak to.
"That is when I found Lucius. Mister Malfoy, whose cell was right next to mine, was more than cooperative, loyal to Voldemort. I asked him to deliver a letter to his brother, Marcus Malfoy, who had been offered at a position at Hogwarts—I had read about it in the Daily Prophet—However, it was no ordinary letter I sent. He, Voldemort, himself enchanted my parchment, so that all who touched and read it became one of my followers.
"Thus, when Lucius touched the letter, whose brother did read it and Marcus then gave it to Minerva, my dear sister, they already became my puppets. Yet, Lucius Malfoy was a much more powerful wizard then I anticipated. As we waited for my sister to help us escape using her advanced magical skills, I noticed that Lucius fought the spell that bound him to me. While Lucius slept, he screamed resistance to me, and I knew that I had to focus my power onto someone else who could mold to my liking.
That is when it hit me. Who else was almost as powerful as He himself? I knew that when I could take hold of the Great Wizard, Dumbledore, I could control the most powerful, pure blooded wizards. The only thing I had to give Him in return was one thing."
Theodore paused and turned his body to the boy who stood now before the desk. It was Harry.
"So as you can see, everything is going as planned. Even as we speak, my charmed young friend, Miss Kimberly Hooch, is annihilating the Mudbloods. My Dumbledore is taking care of those creatures in the Forest that could stand in my way when I would go and retrieve the blood that could make me pure!"
"You bastard!" Ron screamed. "How could you kill so many innocent lives, all so that you can have pure blood? What is the point? Voldemort will betray you once he has Harry! Or does Voldemort have a hold on even you?"
"I am the Puppet Master and you are the puppet! I will cut your strings you do not follow my tugs!"
Ron, his face red and blood boiled, stepped back from Theodore. He swallowed his warm spit, gulping each slimy ball into the empty pits of his stomach. Then, after taking in large, deep breathes, Ron clutched his fists tightly and gritted his teeth.
Without warning, Ron jolted forward, his palms digging into Theodore's chest. He became to shove him toward the broken window, giving no time for Theodore to dig his heels into the ground. As they were only an inch away from where the glass pane would be, Theodore rolled over onto his side, forcing Ron to trip forward into the opening. His body, with nothing to grasp onto, flew forward into the crisp air, and spiraled toward the battlefields below.
***
"What in Merlin do you think you're up to?"
Hermione's broom stopped short. Her frizzed hair fell in front of her face, blocking her vision of the person standing before her. After brushing it away, she immediately recognized a shiny Prefect badge, but it did not belong to the Gryffindor House.
"We could hear you from across Hogwarts! Where are you taking them?"
"Please, do not try to stop us," Hermione pleaded, unwilling to stop when they had not even reached the outside world beyond the walls of Hogwarts.
"Stop you? No, I want to join you," the Prefect from the Slytherin House said calmly with his own Firebolt in his hand (it must have been gift).
"Draco, you cannot leave your students alone," Hermione scolded, wondering how he could have possibly left his Tower without his students.
Yet, he laughed instead. Hermione gave him a puzzled look as Draco waved his right hand. Suddenly, a swarm of Slytherins flew from around the corner, at least fifty of them, all riding expensive broomsticks and themselves coated with thick Slytherin robes.
Hermione smiled, her lips perked around the edges as her teeth poked through them. She looked over her shoulder at her students, most of them willing to get any help, even from a Slytherin. And so, Hermione nodded her back to Draco who immediately turned his broom around and barked orders to his own troop of students.
After a few minutes of yelling, Draco swung back and moved slowly to the side of Hermione. He extended his right hand, cold and clammy, and waited for Hermione to shake it. She did, but felt the strangest sensation that this was not the Draco she once knew more than five years ago. His evil grin and cruel attitude were barely present now to Hermione. Instead, they were replaced with feelings of giddiness and nausea.
Quickly, Draco pulled his hand away and began flying forward with his swarm of Slytherins. Without delay, Hermione followed, trying to catch up to his side. It was as if a large Quidditch Match had erupted within Hogwarts, but the teams were not fighting each other. Instead, they flew beside one another, exchanging smiles and affable glances. It was indeed a rare sight to see under the high ceilings of Hogwarts.