CH25: Black Becomes White

Harry jerked awake to an unpleasant splash of icy water. He opened his eyes blearily, wondering what the hell he did last night that could make him feel like this. He opened his mouth to ask Draco if he was awake.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Potter."

Harry head snapped up. He was lying against a rough stone wall, his hands shackled to the cool stone behind his back. Standing before him was Voldemort himself, looking down distastefully.

Images from the raid flashed back to Harry and he quickly scanned the room for his friends to no avail: he could barely see two feet in front of him, never mind the other side of the room.

"They are not here," Voldemort answered smugly, as though he was reading Harry's thoughts.

"They– they escaped?"

"Lucius was so disappointed. He had been looking forward to a family reunion with his son."

"He doesn't deserve to call Draco his son after what he did to him!" Harry spat out vehemently, pushing away his fear at the situation he had found himself in.

"And what exactly did he do?" asked Voldemort, earning a puzzled look from Harry. Voldemort frowned again, his brow furrowing. Voldemort sighed. "Never mind that, we'll have time for questions later. Right now, I want you to meet a friend of mine." Voldemort snapped his fingers and the door sprang open. "Rasbastan, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Harry Potter. I'm sure you two will have… fun while I'm gone." With a turn, he swept out of the room, robes billowing out behind him.

Rasbastan examined Harry slowly, licking his lips slightly. Harry shuddered and looked into the man's cold dark eyes. Suddenly, it clicked.

"You're Rasbastan Lestrange," he breathed, stories of what the man before him had done under Voldemort's last reign filling his head. "You are the one who tortured Neville's parents."

Rasbastan took a mock bow. "I see my reputation precedes me. It's all for the better that I don't have to explain what I do, I suppose." He pulled out his wand and twirled it slightly. "You already know what is going to happen to you now."

Harry nodded, eyes never leaving the wand in front of him. The fear he had ignored before came back full force and he trembled involuntarily. Rasbastan laughed.

"Open wide, Harry, and feel free to scream. No one can hear you now."

Draco rushed into the front doors of Le Coeur, almost knocking over a couple irritated Hunters as he plowed his way through. Finally, he reached the meeting door where he hoped he would find some Council Members.

He was in luck.

The room was filled will Watchers, all angrily debating something. They fell silent when Draco marched in.

"What is it, Immolo?" Quentin Travers asked impatiently, obviously wishing to get back to the task at hand.

"It's Denicalias, sir," he said, taking a deep breath. "He's been captured by Voldemort's forces."

Some of the magical Watchers trembled at the name. Edge jumped out of her seat and ran to Draco.

"How?" she demanded. Not waiting for an answer, she turned to Travers. "We have to go get him."

"We cannot, Edge," replied Travers, a grimace marring his features, "as you very well know."

"What?" Draco yelled. "We're not going to do anything?"

Travers sighed and looked over at the young Hunter. "I am sorry for the lost of your friend, Immolo. It is a terrible thing to lose one of our own in such a way and Denicalias was a brave ally. This is not our war, however, and we cannot get involved."

"Bullshit," Edge growled. She grabbed Draco's arm and head towards the door. "I am not going to stand by while one of my trainees gets killed. If you won't do anything, then I will."

"If you take one step out of this room," Travers warned, "you will not be welcome back."

Draco took in a sharp breath and looked at Edge's determined face.

"Why did you become a Watcher, Edge?" Draco questioned. He had been training under this woman for three months now and still knew nothing about her. He watched as she sent a final blow at the practice dummy and deactivated it.

"Why do you ask?" She picked up a towel from the ground, dabbing the sweat away from her face, and took at seat at her desk.

"You don't seem like the Watcher type," he replied honestly. "I mean…compared to everyone else here. I just wondered how you ended up working here."

Edge gave his a piercing glance, and finally nodded. "My father was a Watcher," she began quietly. "When I was sixteen, he was killed in small town outside of London. It was a vampire, I am sure of that, but I never found out who it was. After his death, I was obsessed with revenge. Ever since then, I wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps and make sure that nothing like this happened to anyone ever again."

She would be losing her dream if she helped Harry and everyone knew it. The room held its collective breath, waiting for her response.

"You'd better start training my replacement then," she finally said. The door slammed, echoing eerily in the stunned meeting hall.

Harry writhed in pain against the wall. He had never been in so much agony in his entire life; he just wanted it all to end, he wanted all to stop. Rasbastan raised his wand once more and Harry screamed, anticipating the blow.

But it never came.

An insistent knocking came at the door. Rasbastan lowered the wand and looked over at it disappointedly. "Guess our time together is over, Harry," he said sadly. "It's a shame; I was just getting started with some of my more amusing games." He shuffled over to the door and left. Harry was finally alone.

"You have your mother's eyes, Harry."

He jumped at that sound, eyes darting around wildly. "Who– who's there?"

"You have her spirit, too," the voice continued. "I've been watching you. She would have been proud."

Harry strained his senses, trying to figure out where the new voice was coming from. But he heard nothing; no sounds, no movements.

No breathing.

"You're a vampire!"

A tall, lithe man stepped into the dull light of the room. His pale skin gave off an eerie glow that radiated death. But his eyes shined a fierce cerulean and he looked down at Harry with a surprising fondness.

"Yes, Harry." He bared his teeth, morphing into his demon face. "I am."

"Where are we going?" Draco panted as they reached the edge of the Anti-Apparation wards.

"Hogwarts," she said simply and disappeared. Swearing, Draco Apparated right behind her into the small village of Hogsmeade.

"Why?" he asked as she tore off towards the castle.

"Because," she replied curtly, "Deni has more allies here than anywhere else. Someone here is bound to help us."

They quickly reached the Entry Hall and Draco pulled Edge down the stairs, towards the dungeons. "Severus would be our best bet to start with," he explained. She nodded.

A few moments later, they were banging on the door to the Potion Master's private quarters. Severus answered the door irritably. "What do you-" He stopped, eyes widening as he saw Edge. "Marianna?"

"Severus," she responded softly. Draco gazed between the two of them.

"Do you know each other?" he asked confused.

Edge shot him a pointed look. "Later. Right now, we have more important things to discuss."

Severus recognized her distressed tone immediately and ushered them in. "What has happened?"

"Voldemort has Harry."

"What do you want with me?" Harry asked, suddenly aware that he was drenched in blood.

"I'm here to help you, Mr. Potter," he said simply and dropped a small round stone into Harry's hand. Harry flinched, almost dropping it. "That is a Portkey. It will activate in exactly thirty minutes from now." He turned to leave.

Questions raced through Harry's mind, each more ludicrous than the one before, but he finally settled on one. "Why are you helping me?"

The Vampire turned back to Harry and smiled at him, switching to his human face. "Because," he said simply, "it is not yet time."

Harry clutched the stone as the door slammed shut.

"And where is Mr. Weasley now?" Severus asked, rubbing his temples.

"I sent him straight back here and told him to say nothing of what happened tonight," Draco responded. He had just run through what had happened at the Riddle House, and both Severus and Edge looked stressed.

"What are we going to do?" Draco asked when it became clear that no one else was going to speak. "How are we going to get Harry back?"

Severus sighed, looking weary. "I do not know, Draco. I do not know."

Fear gripped at Draco's heart when he saw the defeated look on the Potion Master's face. Severus had been an idol in Draco's mind for as long as he could remember; a worship that was enhanced when he had found out that Severus was not loyal to Voldemort at all, but a spy instead. But to see his mentor look so helpless …

"We have to do something!" he cried, looking slightly hysterical. "They are going to– to-"He could not bring himself to say it.

"Yes, we do." Severus stood up and walked over to the fireplace. He threw a pinch of bright green powder into the flames and shouted, "Headmaster's Office!"

"Well, well," a cold drawl sounded as its owner entered the room. "What do we have here?"

Harry forced himself to look up and meet the speaker's eyes. He gripped the stone even tighter, knowing that there were only eight minutes until he would be free.

If he vampire was to be trusted, that is.

"Isn't this a wonderful sight? The great Harry Potter cowering on the floor." Lucius Malfoy gave him a deadly smirk and Harry found himself wondering what kind of pain the man could inflict in eight minutes.

Make that seven.

Lucius crouched down in front of him. "How is my son doing these days, Potter?"

Harry just glared at him. 6:13.

"I'd have you pass on my love, but I don't think you'll be seeing him again," Lucius continued.

5:34.

"I'm sure he'll miss you."

5:03.

"You two have become quite the team since he left home, haven't you?"

4:42.

"I wondered how that happened."

"He told me everything," Harry snarled, forgetting his mental countdown. "How you kept him under Imperious for all those years. How you controlled his every move. How does it feel knowing that your own son only loved you because you forced him to?"

But, to his surprise, Lucius did not get angry. He merely smiled.

"Is that what he told you, Potter? Draco was always good at lying. But maybe I should set a few things straight."

"What?"

"I never, not once, put Draco under Imperious."

"You're lying!"

"You think so, Potter?" he challenged. "Would you like to bet on it?"

"He couldn't have-"

"Didn't your Defense teacher instruct you in the Unforgivables last year? Didn't he cast it on all of you? Draco was put under it by Crouch the same as you were. And a person cannot live while under two Imperiouses simultaneously. It will drive them mad."

"But-"

"And Draco is still sane, isn't he? Isn't he?"

"Yes …"

"All of Draco's actions were his own."

"No."

"All of his beliefs and ideals were his own."

"No."

"He was well on his way to being a member of Voldemort's followers when he came of age."

"No."

"He hated Mudbloods like your mother and was planning of ridding the world of them."

"No, no, no-"

"Draco was a Malfoy. And, I hate to inform you, Potter, but Draco was, and still is, very much my son."

"NO!"

A jerk around his navel ripped Harry away from his naivety, and he found that he knew the truth.