Author's note: Lots of review questions about why everybody is doing everything - I think the honest answer is that I have dug a huge hole for myself with this plot and all the characters are scrambling to get out! It's bound to be slightly episodic because I'm working through the characters trying to show how each one reacts differently to Harry, depending on their own personal circumstances... But it does come together in the end!
NateP: Hermione is upset cos she's been encouraging Harry to work towards a reconciliation, and she's beginning to think that Snape isn't such an ogre after all, so she feels she's been used when she finds out that Harry had been plotting to kill him.
Vanna: Fair point. I'll tweak them. Thanks.
Anonymouse: Sorry, but this Snape works for me. He is, sometimes, a pretentious, intellectual pedant! The teachers must know Latin because half the spells and incantations are Latin based. If you don't like the French, ignore it - it's not crucial to the plot!
LOST PERSPECTIVE III : REPERCUSSIONS
By Bellegeste
CHAPTER 11: DRACO'S PROMISE
What had Michael Corner meant by 'doing her chicken thing'? In the Ravenclaw Common Room Harry had cut straight across the honeycomb to the far side, but when he pushed through the beaded curtain into the 'Bin', Luna was not there.
"At Hagrid's," Michael had grunted. What had Ginny ever seen in him?
Harry was missing lunch, but he didn't care - rather go hungry than face any more slow-clapping condemnation. Anyhow, he had to speak to Luna before she did anything silly.
It was when Dumbledore had been giving him that final pep talk, and he had shoved his hands deep into his pockets so that the staff couldn't see how his fists were clenched in vexation, that he had found the note from Luna. When had she slipped it into his cloak? He'd read it impatiently, his attention still with Dumbledore.
'Halloween is particularly propitious.
All set for tomorrow night, 7pm.'
Now he was going to tell her to forget it. He'd got more important things to think about than DIY séances.
He could not believe that Snape was being held in custody. 'Why? On what grounds?' he'd wanted to know. How could anyone imagine that he'd get involved in anything so stupid? Whatever for?
"Nobody thinks for one minute that Severus is guilty," Dumbledore had said, attempting to placate the indignant boy. "But the Department of Magical Law Enforcement have to act on the evidence. Bottles of poison were found at Number 4 Privet Drive - bottles taken from Professor Snape's private cupboard."
It's a frame-up! Anyone could have taken them.
"And he is renowned for his prowess with poisonous potions."
That proves nothing.
"And he was seen last night entering the house..."
"What?!" This last piece of evidence came as a shock. "It can't have been him. It must have been someone who looked like him. Or someone doing a Polyjuice impersonation..."
Harry was flummoxed. He could not, for one thing, imagine anyone getting close enough to Snape to obtain the necessary strand of hair or DNA specimen, but it had to be a possibility. Any other explanation was unthinkable.
"The witness was adamant that it was Severus. He even spoke to her. Arabella would have no reason to lie."
Mrs Figg had been out calling for her cat, Hieronymus, when she had heard the Apparation pop and seen the unmistakable, dark figure of Snape gliding towards the Dursley's house. He had acknowledged her with a nod and a curt question,
"Mrs Figg, have you seen the Potter boy?"
No, of course she hadn't. Harry had been safe at Hogwarts at the time. Why would Snape think he had gone to visit the Dursleys?
Ministry officials had apprehended him on the scene, the poison bottles still in his hand. It was not conclusive proof of guilt, but it did not look good. He had, they said, the means, the opportunity -
"But no motive!" cried Harry. "What motive could he possibly have for murdering the Dursleys?"
"We were hoping you might be able to enlighten us, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore.
It didn't make sense. Until that morning and the Daily Prophet's exclusive exposé, only a handful of people were aware that Snape had any connection with Harry, and most of them were members of the Order. No one had any reason to hate Snape enough to frame him. Unless...
Professor Lupin was monitoring his every nuance of expression.
"Have you thought of something, Harry?" he asked keenly.
"No. No, nothing," said Harry.
"Well, be sure to let us know if you do," said the werewolf. "You know you can come and talk to me at any time..."
Ministerial powers entitled the Department to detain Snape in custody on suspicion for a maximum of seventy-two hours, before they had to charge him.
"He will be fine," Dumbledore assured Harry. "It's not as though he hasn't been in prison before. We know his position in the outside world is extremely precarious at the moment, but Kingsley and Tonks will be keeping a watchful eye on him..."
As Harry was about to leave, the old wizard placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and spoke kindly, a trace of amusement softening the tiredness and anxiety in his face:
"Severus was permitted to send one Owl before proceeding to the cell. He asked me to give you a message, young Harry. He wrote: 'Tell my wayward son not to indulge in any needless heroics. I do not wish to be saved; I do not require rescuing. And his Potions assignment still has to be handed in on Monday.' "
X X X
He met Luna trudging back up the track from Hagrid's hut, on her way home to the castle. She was wearing her 'rag-rug' again but, in honour of Halloween, no doubt, her ear-rings today were miniature pumpkins which flashed every few seconds, each time illuminating a differently carved rictus grin and angular, sliced nose and eyes. She was holding a brown and golden posy of long, slim, flecked feathers, from the tail of a cock-pheasant perhaps, or a cockerel.
"I got your note," Harry said to her, "but I've changed my mind. I don't think it's such a good idea. Things are a bit complicated right now."
"Don't worry about him," she said enigmatically. Was she referring to Sirius? "The Astronomy Tower's probably the best place. No one will look for us there."
She hadn't been listening to him at all. He sighed, wondering how to get through to her.
"What have you been doing at Hagrid's? What's with the feathers?" he asked, giving way to Luna's dreamy impenetrability.
"Alectromancy," she answered, nodding seriously. "You put the rooster in the centre of a circle of grain and, depending on which grains he pecks... Just another form of divination."
Harry viewed the deluded girl with disbelief and scorn, but mostly pity.
"That's complete cobblers, Luna. You must be joking!"
"Yes, I am," she said blandly.
x x x
They plodded up the steep path, treading carefully on the loose stones, still skiddy from the morning frost and the smears of decaying vegetation.
"I've been feeding Hagrid's chickens while he's away." She suddenly flapped the feathers in Harry's face, tickling his cheek. "For Crookshanks," she explained. "He shredded the last lot. It must be fascinating."
Harry assumed that the subject was no longer the cat, but he had missed the turning in the labyrinth of winding tunnels and dead ends that constituted Luna's logic.
"What must?" he responded dutifully.
"Having Professor Snape as a father."
Many adjectives had been hurled at him that day to describe his relationship with Snape; this was the first time anyone had referred to the situation as fascinating. Luna continued, without sarcasm,
"I mean, he knows a lot, and he's had a pretty interesting life by the sound of it, and his aura is highly evolved - even if his Chakras are blocked. You get that when your energies are misaligned. Does he have nightmares? Trouble sleeping? Headaches?"
She threw out personal questions like so much grain to the hens.
"Yes. No. I don't know. Luna, what is this?" As always happened when talking to Luna, Harry found himself at sea, floundering. "You knew about him, didn't you? Before you read the article this morning?" he asked.
"I thought there was some connection. He watches you, Harry, and his expression changes. He is very aware of you. As I say, with some auric attunement, energy balancing and Chakra cleansing he could elevate his consciousness to a fine vibrational level. Do you think I should suggest it to him?"
"Not if you want to live. Don't go there. Most people think he's a mean, cold-hearted, sadistic bastard!"
Harry tried to put some jokey distance between himself and the topic of Snape's psychic aura, which was making him feel more than a little uncomfortable. But superficiality slid straight off Luna.
"And that bothers you," she stated. "Because he's not."
"He can be. Sometimes he is. Other times he's OK. Sometimes he even seems to care about me. And then he freaks out - Luna, when it comes to emotions, he's even more screwed-up than I am, but..."
Why, why, why was he telling all this to fruit-loop Luna Lovegood?
"But you're fond of him anyway? That's OK. You're allowed to be." She was completely non-judgemental.
"Yeah. I suppose I am." Harry admitted it.
x x x
Pausing, she stood with her arms crossed, icy hands thrust under her armpits, shifting her weight from one frozen foot to the other. She glanced back along the path and her body stilled at the sight of a solitary Osprey, late for its winter migration. It circled above the dark lake, hovered, then dived downwards, its feet entering the water with an audible splash. Seconds later it was airborne again, shaking its plumage, a trout in its talons.
"Some people say you can tell a lot by watching the flight of birds," she said, and her voice had a disconnected, far-away quality. "From the direction they're flying in, and the height and how they change course; whether they're in flocks or on their own. In Auspicy it all has a significance..."
Oh no, here we go again...
"My Dad's a 'Twitcher'. I go with him sometimes. We watch the birds - record their songs and flight patterns, that sort of stuff. And do you know what the best thing is?" She turned to Harry and her moon-face was full with enthusiasm. "They have no idea how amazing they are!
"So, 7pm tomorrow." Another quantum jump. "It'll be us - you and me - Ginny and Terry, Neville, Ron and Hermione. They all promised."
Harry was not at all convinced that after his reception that morning, any of his friends would want to be in the same room as him, let alone participate in a séance.
"I don't know how you persuaded them. What did you do - say we were going to make contact with Elvis?"
Luna looked up, her features dead-pan.
"But Elvis isn't dead," she said.
X X X
Harry circled the stands like a sheepdog, then stopped, motionless, waiting for the exact moment to split Malfoy from the flock and cut him into the fold. A mid-air collision involving Crabbe and Goyle had left Slytherin without Beaters, so the Friday evening practice was winding up early. Malfoy ambled off the pitch, chatting to Pucey and Warrington, and didn't notice Harry lurking in the shadows.
"Accio broomstick!" Draco's recently repaired Firebolt slid backwards out of his grasp and flew to Harry, who leaned on it with calculated disrespect, as though it were some bog-standard staff, challenging Draco to retrieve his prize possession.
"Escaped from the asylum, have we, Potter?" Malfoy sneered, with an attempt at nonchalance. "On guard, lads - this one's 'one powder short of a potion'..."
"Drop it, Draco," Harry said in a silky voice, consciously adopting one of Snape's verbal tropes. "If you want this 'Re-FIT' back in one piece..."
Malfoy got the message.
"It's cool guys. I'll see you in the Changing Rooms. Potter's harmless now, since the lobotomy..."
The team, spoiling for a show-down, headed off, grumbling, short-changed. Once they were out of earshot, Harry rounded on Malfoy, who looked a lot less self-assured now, without his roadies. But, conceded Harry, he did have the nerve to face him; that was one thing about Draco - he did fight his own battles, up to a point.
"So, how did you do it?" Harry demanded, still keeping the chill on his anger. "How did you get him to go there?"
"Bravo, Potter! Figured it out, have you? Been eating Runespoor eggs for breakfast, eh? Isn't that what 'Daddy' uses in his Perspicacious Potion? Or have you been getting a little help with the logic - from a rabid Ravenclaw, perhaps...?"
"How did you do it, Draco?" Harry repeated coldly. "Or would you like me to fly this Firebolt to the Whomping Willow and see which one wins... It made kindling out of mine!"
"He had it coming. Anyway, what's your problem? I've done you a favour - three less Muggles in your life! You should be thanking me. As for our dear Professor - I was just finishing what you started. What you pathetically failed to finish on your own. What made you change your mind, Potter? 'Daddy' threaten to disinherit you?"
Disinherit! The word prodded an ants' nest of ideas in Harry's mind.
"Trust you to bring it down to a question of money! You think that's what this is all about - inheritance? We're not all so mercenary, Malfoy."
"Excuse me, but I was under the impression that that was precisely the point - wasn't that what your father's letter - Potter's letter - was all about: legitimising your inheritance? Killing the man who had brought dishonour on the Potter name, and contaminated the bloodline? Or did you make it all up? Was it the delusional fantasy of a deranged mind? You're a sad case, Potter!"
The ants were really marching now, lining up in phalanxes, in battle-formation. Harry was trying to analyse Malfoy's plan of attack.
"Is that why he is supposed to have poisoned my Aunt and everybody? Because..." He was slowly piecing together a theory, however absurd. "...because they're the last obstacle between me and my inheritance from James Potter? Because they might disinherit me once they learned that Snape was my real father? But that's crazy! He doesn't need James' money! I don't need it. He doesn't care whether I get it or not!
"As far as motives go, that's just stupid. It's ridiculously flimsy. It'll never hold up in court."
Malfoy had regained some of his self-possession.
"Oh do come on, Potter, surely you can do better than that? There's more at stake than money! Call yourself a wizard? It's all in the name, in the blood... I thought even you would appreciate that. Now, Snape would understand... Means, opportunity, motive - the Ministry's been gagging for any excuse to arrest him. It hardly needs to be watertight. They'll find a way to make the charges stick and then - hey presto! - it's a one-way ticket to Azkaban!"
Harry was afraid Draco might be right. Voldemort's supporters had enough contacts in the Ministry to sway any verdict. Even in prison Lucius was still a force to be reckoned with.
"Well, it'll be quite a Death Eater party, then, won't it," Harry said harshly. "Or will it be a Malfoy family reunion when you get sent down for Conspiracy? Draco, do you think that's going to make your Dad proud? Do you think that's what he wants? Really? If you want to earn his approval, you're going about it the wrong way. He doesn't need you to fight his battles. If your Dad's in prison, it's because he was careless enough to get caught, not because of Snape. Anyway, what's Snape ever done to you? - apart from treat you like a human being, which is a hell of a lot more than you deserve. Think about it."
That was low, but Harry wasn't feeling particularly gentlemanly. He wasn't sure what he was hoping to achieve by undermining Draco's misplaced loyalty - maybe to find a fragment of decency beneath the tarnished surface of the Pureblood code of family honour.
The Slytherin shrugged, but it looked as though Harry's remarks had made an impression. For a second or two Harry thought Malfoy might be about to walk off and sacrifice the broom after all.
"I still don't understand how you got Snape to go to Privet Drive. That's about the last place he'd want to be." Harry got back on track.
Draco's smug smile returned.
"Not if he thought you were there, and that you were about to be killed by the Dark Lord..."
"But I wasn't. Why would he think that I was? And anyway, he wouldn't fall for the same story twice. He's not that gullible." Harry protested, but the familiar clots of guilt and apprehension were curdling in his stomach.
"Don't you be so sure. Our professor is developing a bit of a blind spot where you're concerned, Potter. Very touching! All I had to do was tell him I'd seen you sneaking out of the castle and you told me you were going to the Dursleys' to save the world..." Draco smirked in triumph.
"But he'd check. He wouldn't go rushing off on your say so. Not after last time. Not without checking first. He's not stupid." Flattering as the thought was, Harry knew that Snape would never have been so impetuous.
"Absolutely, Potter. Got it in one. And he did check. Legged it to Gryffindor, prontissimo. Gave the Fat Lady the third degree...But, you see, you weren't there. You were wandering about the third floor corridors, hob-knobbing with that ghostly headless halfwit. Touché!"
Malfoy's story was beginning to sound horribly plausible.
"He'd still have known that you were lying, though. He can always tell." Harry was scratching for a defence now, but it seemed as though Draco had all angles covered.
"Tricky that. The neat thing was, Potter, I didn't have to lie. It cost me a detention and fifty points from Slytherin for being caught out after dark, but that's a small price to pay for revenge. What I actually said was that I'd seen you leaving your dorm - which I did - and that I had promised the Dark Lord to persuade you to Apparate to Privet Drive because the Death Eaters were about to attack your family... And that was all true. I did promise. And I'd already stolen the poisons and passed them on to Clarkson to plant as evidence..."
"But you didn't say anything to me. You knew I wouldn't be there."
The implication embarrassed both boys into silence. Harry, wondering if he ought to feel grateful, stared at the Slytherin who stood before him flustered and defiant, shivering in his thin Quidditch gear. Then Malfoy made a grab for his broom, turned and retreated towards the Changing Room.
"We can all make mistakes, Potter," he called back, saving face.
END OF CHAPTER. So, is Draco a good guy or a baddie? I know I could have developed the 'poisoning the Dursleys' story-line a lot further, but I didn't want to take it in that direction. (I just needed Snape out of the way for a while...Shhh! Don't give away trade secrets. Ed. )
Next chapter: FIRST CONTACT. What happens at the séance?
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