CHAPTER FOUR: Old Face, New Voice
With three minutes until noon, Harry entered the Great Hall, unsure of where to sit, for the four house tables were up against the walls at present. Then he realized that he would be sitting at the staff table! He knew that McGonagall wouldn't have offered him the job had she not thought him capable, but he was still apprehensive. Taking his proper seat, Harry silently wondered whether or not Voldemort's curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position was still in effect, or if it had ended with his death.
Such thoughts evaporated as the clock struck twelve. The doors of the Great Hall opened, and a lone figure in a flowing white robe entered. His face was hidden as he walked slowly and gracefully towards the staff table. Silently, Harry wondered if there was anything McGonagall could have done to keep this man out, but it wasn't as if there were missile launchers to prevent anyone from flying in or anything of the sort.
The man, at least Harry thought it was a man, stopped in the center of the Great Hall. It unnerved Harry when he looked and saw the exactitude of the figure's centrality in the room. Then, he spoke.
"Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmaster Filius Flitwick, Professor Rubeus Hagrid, Professor Rowanda Lanskey, Professor Ronald Weasley, Professor Hermione Weasley, Professor Ginerva Potter…" He paused in his greetings. "Professor Harry Potter," he said finally as he bowed his head. "I bring you all greetings from The Great Healer." There was something familiar in his voice, but Harry wasn't sure what it was.
Then, the stranger straightened and removed his hood. Hermione almost gasped, Ginny stiffened, Ron looked blank, and Harry's face contorted with rage as he looked upon a face he hadn't seen since the Battle of Hogwarts where Lord Voldemort had been defeated. The last time Harry had seen this face, it had been weeping over his father's body, just before vanishing in a flash of white light. There could be no mistaking the pale, pointed face of Draco Malfoy.
As if sensing the hostility from his former classmates, Malfoy bowed deeply. "My apologies, my friends. I should have introduced myself to spare you the shock you are no doubt now experiencing. I am pleased to see you all looking well and healthy, however. Yes, I do mean all of you. I no longer hold the bigoted views of pureblood supremacy as I once did, though I was instructed to relay to you the story of how I, and my fellow former Death Eaters, have come to see the errors of our ways, and earn redemption in the eyes of The Great Healer."
Professor McGonagall leered at Malfoy through her spectacles, anger and uncertainty etched in her face. "Mister Malfoy, please forgive me, but it comes as a shock that you and the rest of Lord Voldemort's followers are even alive, let alone moving freely throughout the country. Despite the nature of things, there are some things that cannot be forgiven, Draco." Harry realized that Professor McGonagall still bore Malfoy ill will in regards to Dumbledore's death.
Realizing this was an exchange limited to Malfoy and McGonagall, Harry stayed silent as Malfoy continued. "I mean no ill towards any of you, Headmistress, but The Great Healer can forgive any sin, even those deemed unforgivable by some. But let us not brood over what is done and cannot be undone. I must tell my story, as I have been commanded to do."
Harry was about to rise out of his seat to yell at Malfoy, to tell him to take him and his Healer and go home, but he found his mouth stuck shut and his arse stuck to his seat. He couldn't make any protestation, nor, it seemed, could anyone else, if Harry read the looks in their eyes correctly.
Malfoy cleared his throat, and withdrew his wand. With a wave, there was a flash of white light, and the Death Eaters of nine years ago were sprawled on the ground in a lush forest, though some looked battle-ready, just as they had been at the Battle of Hogwarts so many years ago. The same, glowing white figure appeared on the top of a hill, and a rich, melodious voice rolled out through the trees. "My children, you have been misled and deceived by a devil among men. You have sinned greatly, but know that you may yet be forgiven." The Death Eaters at first seemed to regard this figure, whose voice was rather androgynous, with no small apprehension, but their faces relaxed with each passing moment.
"It will be hard for many to forgive you, but they must not be allowed to see you until you have proven your repentance, lest they seek revenge. Revenge is the worst of all monsters in this world. Like the ouroboros, it feeds upon itself, creating an unending cycle of anger and destruction that will eventually end all life on this Earth!" The Death Eaters, so fearsome in battle, looked suddenly afraid at the prospect this figure was proposing. "Let me heal you, my children. Let me guide you under my wing, so that together you may truly repent by healing the wounds you have left upon this nation. No disease is incurable, no wound untreatable. Speak with my voice, and become one with my Healing Hands, that you may mend, through me, all the sorrows of this world, and bring peace to all living things."
As Malfoy watched his conjured image, tears of happiness seemed to water his eyes, just as many of the Death Eaters in the conjuration fell to their knees and wept, proclaiming undying love and devotion to this amazing person, who gave them a second chance. Malfoy, however, in the image, wept facing away from the glowing white figure, which slowly and elegantly walked down to him, lifting his face up with one hand. "Look at me, Draco Malfoy," the voice said, and Malfoy looked up into the face of the figure (at least, Harry thought it must be a face, though it was all whiteness). Malfoy stared long and hard into what Harry guessed must be the Great Healer's eyes, and his expression turned from fear, to suspicion, to great sadness, and then at last, great joy. Weeping openly, he fell forward into white robes, and white arms gathered him up. "You now know love, Draco Malfoy. Spread this love to all you meet, and you will heal not only yourself, but the world as well." And Malfoy beamed up at his savior, bowing so low his face buried itself in the ground."
Waving his wand again, Malfoy took away the image. Harry was skeptical about the whole thing, but looking around, he was surprised by what he saw. Ginny, Hermione, and McGonagall seemed to share a steely glare, but Ron seemed blissfully blank, Hagrid was tearing up, and Professors Lanskey and Flitwick were struggling to keep themselves sitting up straight for the tears in their eyes. How this mere illusion had such a profound effect, Harry did not know, but he knew he wouldn't like the answer.
His voice ringing clear throughout the Great Hall, Malfoy proclaimed, "Our Healer will forgive any sin, and all that is asked is dedication to help heal the wounds of the world. Will Hogwarts aid our cause, or will it stand apart, as an open wound that must be branded shut?" The threat was not lost upon any of them, but no one seemed inclined to reply.
McGonagall finally mustered up the strength to say, "Take this message back to your master, Draco: Hogwarts is a free institution of education, and its aims have ever been benevolent. We will continue as we always have, but we will not swear fealty to anyone or anything, no matter the reasons!" Before Malfoy could respond, McGonagall said more quietly, "I think it is time you left us, now," and with a flick of her wand, the doors of the Great Hall sprang open. Malfoy bowed in silence, and his face looked like it held something akin to pity. As he turned and left, Harry could not help but wonder who was the greater threat: Lord Voldemort in years past, or the present reality of the Great Healer?