Chapter Twelve
He was a pariah and hated it.
He had once been the rising star of his House; he had been both feared and admired by his fellows. Now the name Draco Malfoy was little better than a curse to some of those he had once called friend, the only two that had stayed by his side had been Crabbe and Goyle, but he feared even they would soon desert him.
He had noticed their uneasy glances towards some of the older students, especially Marcus Flint. The Flint Heir had seemed to take on a new life recently; he had quickly gained an ever-increasing circle of lackeys that seemed to follow after him like well-trained lap dogs.
He had been the recipient of Flint's hard stares ever since he had returned to the school, something that made him more nervous than he would care to admit.
Only the tenuous hold that Professor Snape seemed to have over the upper years held them from making any overt moves, but his new fostering with the Blackwood's had not been taken well by his Housemates.
He had heard them whispering behind his back, many seemed to think that his fostering with the Blackwood's had made him bosom buddies with Callian and Harry. The anger they felt regarding the disgrace that had fallen upon Professor Snape had been building for a long time and now they had an outlet for it close at hand.
He had taken to sleeping lightly and with every protection he could buy one from one of the more tolerant seventh years wrapped about his bed, he now carried his belongings upon him in his shrunken trunk after he had found that someone had smashed his inkpots completely covering his things in thick black ink.
The weeks since his return to school had been some of the longest of his life, he did not know where to turn for help as even his Head of House had seemed to have become unapproachable after learning that Callian was the son of Sirius Black.
The man's normally cold demeanour had become frigid in recent days and the feeling of barely restrained anger seemed to hang about him like a cloud, even the man's favourites had taken to avoiding him like the plague.
He now found himself slowly making his way down the vaulted corridors of the dungeons as he kept his wand in hand, the sun had yet to rise but he had taken to leaving the Slytherin common room early to avoid any brewing confrontations. He had been expecting the upper years to make a move soon and Crabbe had managed to get word to him that it was imminent.
How his friend had managed to find out he did not know but he was thankful that his friend had gotten word to him.
Looking ahead he noticed that several of the sconces had burned low at an intersection of corridors, casting dark shadows that could be hiding anything from view.
He felt his heart begin to beat faster and the shiver that ran through him had little to do with the winter chill that still hung about the school.
In his mind he tried to go over everything he had learned from his father and the few teachers that had been helping to substitute as a defence instructor, he doubted little of it would help him now.
To his mind, he thought he could catch a few whispers ahead of him and even the scuff of booted feet in the shadows.
He wanted to turn around and run, but as he did so he found himself looking up into the brutish face of Marcus Flint.
The older boy said nothing as he continued to stare at him with heavy-lidded eyes, he seemed unnervingly still as he just continued to stare.
"Flint." Draco said with only a faint nervous warble in his voice.
Still, the older boy said nothing as he continued that same unwavering stare.
Draco never looked away from Flint but he could hear the heavy steps of several others behind him.
"Is there something I can help you w…with?" He asked, his winced internally as his voice gave a nervous stutter towards the end.
Marcus Flint never uttered a word as his arm snapped up, almost as if it had been yanked upon to reveal his wand glowing an angry yellow. Draco only had time to cry out in alarm as the spell rocketed towards him and he was blasted from his feet.
He found himself gasping for breath as he lay winded upon the floor.
It took him several long heartbeats of blind panic before he was able to catch his breath again, and he looked up into the familiar faces of his older housemates.
Loud steps sounded once more as Marcus Flint walked towards him with an unsettling calmness and he watched as the older teen stopped at his feet.
"I do not need help from traitorous scum like you."
The teen swiped his wand and Draco's face felt as if it had been slapped hard.
"You have betrayed this House." Swipe went the wand. Draco cried out as his face began to burn from the stinging blow, the blows seeming to grow stronger each time.
"You have thrown your lot in with Blood Traitors." Swipe and this time he felt the warm trickle of blood as the spell broke the skin of his cheek.
"You have betrayed the Oaths of your father." He watched as the wand whipped again and he felt his nose crunch under the force of the blow.
"You have betrayed your rightful Lord." This time the boy lashed out with a boot, his wand hanging limply at his side. About him, the others gathered around and he screamed in pain as more blows fell, one booted foot stamped down hard upon his wand hand and he heard the distinctive snap of both bone and wood. It was over quickly and he was left a bruised and bleeding lump of pummeled flesh.
They left him then, without a word the group of older teens disappeared into the shadows, and Draco could only curl up and sob as his body throbbed with pain.
He did not know how long he lay there but eventually, his sobs died away and he was left with only the ache of his battered body and the cold of the dungeon floor that had worked its way deep into his body.
A glance at his hand revealed several of his fingers bent at an odd angle, but despite the pain what tore a ragged sob from him was his broken wand within his mangled grasp. He no longer felt the tingle of Magic that had flowed through his most prized possession, and an anguished cry tore from his throat that went unanswered in the gloom of the dungeons.
He slowly managed to climb to his feet, each movement causing a small gasp of pain to escape his lips. Using the wall to support him he began to make his way towards the exit of the dungeons, he had no real destination in mind, only the desire to get away from this place. Away from the memory of what had happened below the school, of the empty, uncaring look that had never left Flint's eyes but most of the horror of dead wood in his mangled hand. It had been as if the beating he had been given had meant nothing to them as if he was little more than a bug that needed to be squashed.
Slowly, step by step he made his way out of the great doors of the castle.
His feet seemed to be leading him somewhere of their own volition and he in a daze never noticed as he stumbled towards the distant sound of clacking sticks.
He was a pariah and he loved it.
The constant flow of students eager to buy their way into a meeting with his Grandfather had suddenly stopped. While he would certainly miss the bribes of books and the odd scroll, it was wonderful to be left to his own devices. Even more hilarious to him were the children of families that leaned more towards favouring the Dark Lord, they seemed even more unsure of how to deal with him, as they tried to pry out if he followed in his father's footsteps or those of his mother and grandfather.
His years mates left him a wide berth wherever he went, often stumbling over each other to get out of his way. Harry had even come to him only a few days ago wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, a few concerned Hufflepuffs had claimed they would help him escape the clutches of he and his family.
He just managed to duck under a wild swing from Harry that had been aimed at his head, the padded leather helm that he wore jolting as Harry's wooden practice sword scuffed the back of his head.
Reacting instinctively he summoned a wall of force that stopped Harry's next strike, a muted thud signalling that it had worked as he dropped his transfigured shield. The weave had become easier in recent months, but today was the first time he had cast it without a thought.
Standing upright once more he grinned at Harry as he sent his mind outwards, in the air above them Faenir shrieked as he dived down at Harry. The boy only had time to raise his shield to ward off the small creature as Callian ran forward and tackled the boy with a laugh.
They landed in a mass of tangled limbs and both found themselves laughing as they pulled themselves apart.
Harry looked at him with a grin as he got to his feet first and pulled Callians's leg, sending the blonde back to the sand with a grunt.
"I nearly had you that time. You have to admit that it was close."
Callian just clambered to his feet and casually brushed himself off. "I have no idea what you are talking about." He said with a cocky grin as he summoned his practice sword back to his hand.
Harry just shook his head as he held out his hand and after several seconds his practice sword began to float towards him. It was somewhat shaky, but Callian could only smile proudly at his friend. Harry just grinned at him as he stood ready, but before they could begin their next bout the scruff of cloth on stone pulled their attention to the entryway into their courtyard.
The sight that greeted them brought a gasp from Harry, the boy did not hesitate as he ran towards the bloodied form of Draco Malfoy. Callian waited, his gaze looking back down the covered walkway that led to the courtyard in search of threats that had yet to reveal themselves.
He moved closer to Draco once he was sure that nothing or no one was coming, and he got his first good look at the Slytherin.
Draco's face was a mess, one eye had swollen shut and his nose was obviously broken and the blood that covered half his face was somewhat startling to see. Harry looked up at him as he helped Draco to lay down upon the sand floor of the courtyard.
"We need to get a Professor, I think he's struggling to breathe!"
There was a note of panic in Harry's voice yet his friend seemed to be keeping his emotions in check. Callian just nodded as he dropped to kneel beside Draco's prone form.
"You go. I can do more to help him here than you can. Flitwick should be up this early, try there first."
Harry gave a nod before he took off at a dead sprint, the slap of his boots on stone echoing loudly in the quiet of the morning.
Callian stared down at Draco's unconscious form and he brought his hand up to hover over the boy's face, he had never practised the Healing Arts but he knew some basic Weaves for cuts and bruises.
Gently he extended his senses outwards, brushing up against the boundaries of Draco's presence. Thin filaments of power extended from his hovering hand as his mind slipped into Draco's, he could sense the boy's pain as clear as if it was his own and tried his hardest to block it with his limited skill with the Mind Arts.
He had limited success and his respect for those who practised the Healing Arts rose dramatically, it was a struggle to focus but he persevered as he directed thin threads of magic into the split skin upon Draco's face.
Carefully he began to slowly knit the skin and blood vessels back together as he painstakingly wove a spell to reduce the swelling in Draco's face.
The unfamiliar Weaves were exhausting him far faster than anything else he was used to; his respect for Magi who devoted their lives to the healing of others rose another notch as he continued his task.
He was deaf and blind to the material world as slowly knitted the skin on Draco's cheek closed before he moved his senses to Draco's broken nose, this time he let out a pained gasp as his mind was assaulted by the pain once more.
The longer he stayed there the more he began to realise that there was a faint presence that lingered about the wound that did not belong, it held a malevolent feel to it that seemed to be intent on causing pain.
Reaching for it he felt a slight resistance as he pulled the spell residue away; the thing felt wrong as his Magic released it. It had been fading quickly on its own, but he saw no reason not to remove it sooner to help ease Draco's suffering.
He knew the break was way beyond his limited abilities and he decided to leave it be, hopefully, one of the teachers or Madame Pomfrey would be able to fix it without too much hassle.
Retreating he found himself staring into the crystalline blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster was staring intently at him as he held a sickly yellow light in his hand. A light that felt the same as what he had pulled free of Draco, how the Headmaster had plucked that from the ether he did not know.
"Master Blackwood, if you would be so kind as to move aside I will see to helping young Master Malfoy." Callin did as instructed and he watched in awe as the Headmaster began to fix the worst of Draco's wounds.
He thought he could hear several faint pops as the Headmaster ran his hand over Draco, he watched as the boy took a deep breath for the first time since he had stumbled into the courtyard.
The headmaster still maintained a grasp on the spell residue that Callian had pulled from Draco, and he watched as the Headmaster gently layered a SpellWeave over Draco's face.
The ease with which the man had healed Draco was astonishing, and while he had been able to follow some of what the Headmaster had done it was still years away from what he would be able to accomplish.
Draco remained unconscious as the Headmaster waved a hand and levitated the boy.
"If you gentlemen will follow me, we will head to the infirmary then I will need to talk to you both in my office."
Callian recognised Harry then, standing behind the headmaster. He had been so focused on watching the delicate Weaves being used upon the Slytherin boy, that he had not noticed Harry's return. They both fell into step behind the Headmaster after sharing a quick uncertain look, the man before them seemed very much like the one that had gone unflinchingly to face a troll only a few months prior. The grandfatherly facade had fallen away, and they found themselves unsure of how to deal with the powerful Master Wizard that had been revealed.
With a mental summons, Faenir descended to perch upon his shoulder as they followed the headmaster into the Castle.
They soon found themselves sitting in the Headmaster's office as they waited for the Headmaster to return from his private quarters where he had gone to summon Denevan, Amerytha and Narcissa.
They had informed the headmaster of everything they were aware of, which was not much and had been asked to wait. Callian found his gaze wandering once more as they sat in the silence that settled over them.
He found his eyes tracking over the portraits that lined the walls until they came to rest upon one in particular.
Sleek black hair pulled into an elegant tail at the nape of the neck, revealed a pale face with eyes like dark coals under thin brows. Angular and hawkish, the too-clever face of Phineas Nigellus Black stared down at him.
Neither said a word as they took the measure of each other before Phineas gave a slight bow of his head.
"It would seem that a worthy successor of House Black has been found at last." The portrait of his ancestor had a voice like oil on rock, slippery and always hiding what waited below yet covering a hardness that would not yield.
"I wondered if Arcturus would choose wisely, or if he would die before a respectable heir could be found." Those eyes seemed to gleam as they bored into him, Callian found it odd that a piece of paint and canvas had such a commanding presence. "It came as a shock to all that Sirius had sired an unknown bastard."
The portrait seemed to barely mask the sneer as he uttered the last word but Callian just laughed at the image of his great, great, great grandfather. There was a time when the portraits' words would have hurt him but now he just found it ridiculous that a piece of furniture was insulting him.
Ignoring the man who seemed shocked that he did not get a rise out of him, he turned his back to the enchanted canvas as he looked at Harry.
"Harry, allow me to introduce you too Phineas Nigellus Black. The most hated Headmaster that Hogwarts has ever had the displeasure of having led the School."
About them, several of the other portraits laughed uproariously as Phineas could do nothing but sputter in incoherent rage. He thought he heard a few of them cheering him on to knock the 'prideful ponce' down a peg or two, several of the older paintings even seemed to fire a few rude gestures towards the man who seemed to grow ever more furious. He idly wondered if an enchanted painting could be rendered useless if he stressed the image on the canvas enough, he had just begun to study the enchantments that made up Phineas' portrait when he felt several powerful presences enter the room.
He turned and grinned widely as he took in the somewhat surprised look on the Headmaster's face as the portraits of his predecessors shouted at each other. However, behind him, he could see his grandfather, mother and Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy as they all filed into the room. Quickly moving to greet them, Callian and Harry found themselves tucked under Amerytha's arms as they watched the Headmaster give a wave of his wand. The portraits were silenced as Albus Dumbledore took his seat behind his desk.
He looked at the two first years in the room over the tops of his half-moon spectacles with a twinkle in his blue eye. "I must say that this is the first time in a long while that two students have managed to get my dear predecessors so worked up, I must commend you on a feat few have accomplished."
Harry gave a quiet snort at the headmaster's words and he shot the older man a grin of his own. "This time Headmaster I had nothing to do with it, Cal was just introducing me to another Black." With this Callian just offered a cheeky wave towards the image of Phineas who seemed to be swearing up a storm if the looks of his neighbours were anything to go by.
The Headmaster made to speak but Lucius cut him off as he all but snarled a question. "What happened to my Son? I was informed that he had been taken to the hospital wing but no one has given us any answers. Who is responsible for this?"
The Headmaster was silent for several moments as he leaned back in his chair to look at the occupants of his office. "Unfortunately Draco has yet to wake to identify his attackers. Madame Pomfrey has assured me that your son is fine, but she has refrained from awakening him early to allow his body to rest and recover naturally."
The headmaster directed this towards Narcissa who sat staring at him with watery eyes, the Lady of House Malfoy just gave a slow nod of her head as she schooled her features into a cool calm mask that revealed nothing.
"Now as I have been recently informed, young Draco has begun to be fostered among your family, Lord Blackwood alongside Master Potter here." Callian thought he could see a hint of something behind the Headmaster's words, but just what it was he could not tell.
"As such, I thought it best that you should all be notified as to the current goings-on of our investigation as to what happened." Albus paused as he gestured towards both Harry and himself. "It is thanks to Callian and Harry that such swift aid was found for your son, Lord Malfoy. Callian himself even went above and beyond to heal some of Draco's wounds."
He watched as Lucius Malfoy sent him a wary glance before the Wizard offered a slight bow of his head. "My thanks, Lord Blackwood."
Callian gave the man a nod of his head in return. "Think nothing of it, Lord Malfoy. Draco is my cousin after all, and he is a foster child of House Blackwood. I am honour-bound to do all within my power to help, I am just ashamed that I could not do more. I have only a very limited skill with Healing Magics, something I will be rectifying as soon as possible."
Narcissa offered him a grateful smile, as both she and her husband offered him a deeper bow of their heads at his words.
What followed was the Headmaster's account of what they knew and what they suspected had happened; he had eventually revealed the angry pulsating Magic that he had managed to contain using a silvery metal plate engraved with an intricate runic array.
Callian could not help himself as he began to study the flows of magic that the runes channelled.
"From this and the wounds that Master Blackwood healed it is clear that Draco was struck with several powerful pain curses." The man's eyes hardened until they held as much warmth as a glacier. "Whether or not they knew what spells they were using it is clear that whoever did attack your son, did so with the intent to cause serious pain. Madame Pomfrey was able to deduce that several of these curses had been applied in quick succession."
Callian watched as his grandfather stepped forward to examine the malignant spell energy.
"Interesting construction. Designed to stimulate the pain receptors even after the initial spell has faded." The oldest magi in the room harrumphed as he poked and prodded the yellow mass of chaotic energy.
"Now that is just shoddy craftsmanship." He said as he seemed to twist his hand and something within the spell mimicked him, almost at once the chaotic energies stabilised and if anything took on a more sinister quality.
Albus stood up as he joined his former Master, the two wizards seeming to forget the rest of the room's occupants as they discussed something in terms that made Callian's head hurt.
Amerytha made her thoughts known as she slowly stood from her seat, her expression letting all in the room know that she was not happy to be ignored as the two older Magi seemed intent on ignoring them.
"For those of us who are not in the know, would you care to share with the rest of us."
Denevan did not answer as he continued to study the now stabilised spell, the Headmaster, however, looked slightly abashed as he offered them all an apologetic smile.
"Ah yes, I forgot myself for a minute. It would appear that the spell that struck Draco was a derivative of a pain spell known as Akhlys' Lasting."
Lucius hissed out a breath as he turned horrified eyes to stare at the Headmaster, he fell back into his seat as Callian and Harry shared a worried glance. Neither of them had ever heard of the spell but Callian thought he recognised the name from somewhere.
Even his mother looked worried as she put a comforting hand upon Narcissa's arm.
The name Akhlys floated around in his mind until he realised where he had heard it before, it had been in one of the many books he had read ahead of the trip his grandfather had planned for the summer holidays. A priestess of one of the many cults of Nyx in Ancient Greece had risen to be a feared and despised figure, reputed to be one of the most merciless assassins that had lived. She had become notorious for the use of her pain spells. One spell, in particular, had gained her the epithet of the Mistress of Misery. Designed to be applied in succession; the spell was reported to grow an order of magnitude more powerful with each casting. Layering atop each other so as to become as bad if not worse than the Cruciatus itself. Some speculated that it was thanks to Akhlys and her fondness for pain curses that the Magi of the past had been able to develop the Unforgivable in the first place.
"Then surely when Draco identifies who his attackers were, they will be expelled. A curse such as this is not something that can be bandied about lightly." Harry voiced to the room, drawing everyone's eye causing the boy to shift in his seat.
The Headmaster was silent for several heartbeats before he spoke to the room. "Young Harry raises a good point, but the end result is that we do not know if this was intentional." He gestured towards the spell residue that still hovered upon the desk before them. "But I assure you. Should I find out that whoever did this had intended to use such Dark magic I will pursue them to the full extent of the Law."
The steel behind his words led none to believe that he was speaking lightly, as the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot he could bring a lot of trouble to anyone's door.
Silence settled over them soon enough; it was not long before Lucius and Narcissa left to wait for Draco to awaken.
The Headmaster dismissed them soon enough, they had classes to attend after all even if they had already missed their first lesson of the day.
He gave a contented sigh as he sat in one of the many unused classrooms that he had found on the seventh floor; it had become his haven away from the masses. He had inscribed the same wards that guarded his and Harry's quarters into the door of the room and as such, no one even seemed to remember that there was a classroom missing.
He had transfigured one of the old desks into a rather comfortable armchair, a few other odds and ends in the room had been changed to suit his needs making his private little sanctuary just that little bit more cosy.
In his lap, Faenir gave a delighted purr as he ran his fingers along the small dragon's spine.
He had several open books floating about him, each well advanced of the first-year curriculum. He had found himself growing ever more bored of the school's lessons; it was clear to all that he was learning nothing in his classes. He had mastered the simple tricks and techniques that the faculty were trying so hard to get his year mates to learn when he was only a child, he had found that several of his teachers had even begun to leave him to learn at his own pace in their classes.
Flitwick, however, had been making a point to stop by his station to see how he was doing with his assignments, the part-goblin had seemed ecstatic when he had been able to demonstrate several of the more advanced spells that he expected of his first years. Harry was easily able to match him with a wand in hand but his Weaving still left much to be desired, he knew that it infuriated Harry to no end that he was able to Weave with ease what took him time and effort to do with a wand.
The loud slamming of the door to his private sanctuary caused him to jump in fright, even Faenir gave a startled hiss as his barbed tail reared overhead like the sting of a scorpion.
He found Harry's grinning face staring down at him, although he was slightly mollified when Harry quickly backpedalled when Faenir launched himself at him.
"I wondered where you two had gotten to, I had to ask the Weasley twins for help in finding you."
Callian raised an eyebrow at that. Fred and George Weasley had gained a somewhat legendary status. The twins always seemed able to find someone, no matter where they were hiding. They were also able to help you find that person for a price, only with those two you never knew what they would ask of you.
"What did they want to help?" He asked, catching Harry's wince as his friend rubbed at his jaw.
"They asked me to eat a few sweets they had been messing around with. I think my jaw nearly broke when my tongue started to grow about three feet long."
Callian pulled a disgusted face as Harry gave a rather graphic description of just what had happened.
Giving a shake of his head to dislodge the images that Harry had conjured up, Callian asked just what it was that the Potter Heir needed so desperately.
"It appears Malfoy woke not long ago, his parents and your mother are with him at the minute. He named Marcus Flint as the one who had attacked him; the Headmaster and Lord Blackwood have gone to talk to Snape about it. Apparently, as Draco is a Ward of your House it could have serious consequences against the Flints', your mum told me that your family has business dealings through them that could be threatened. on top of that, Lucius' is out for blood and he has the ear of the Minister to boot."
Callian found himself staring in open-mouthed shock as Harry explained all that he had been able to discover over what happened earlier that morning. "So from the sounds of it Flint and his goons had no reason to go after Draco, from what I was able to overhear from Narcissa and your mum I think they are worried that they will try again only they'll go after all of us next."
Frowning, Callian stared at nothing as thought over what Harry had told him. From what Draco had told them all those months ago, it was with Harry and himself that the older Slytherin had an issue.
Why they had then decided to go after Malfoy he could not fathom. Unless it was to send a message, and while he knew Flint was never the sharpest tool in the shed this was pure stupidity.
A thought came unbidden to his mind then, Draco had been nigh untouchable among the Slytherins. However, Flint had shown a complete disregard of any sense.
What was more, Harry had claimed that Draco had been named a traitor because he had sworn fealty to him.
"Why would Draco swearing fealty to me cause such a stir among the Slytherins? House Malfoy has been a vassal for decades." Harry just shrugged but the boy took on a pensive look.
"I have no idea, but I think it best if we keep an eye on the girls for the foreseeable future. I have a plan but it's going to come with a cost."
Callian watched as Harry summoned a rather worn looking chair, his friend gave him an expectant look as he indicated the chair. Biting back a snort he transfigured it into a match for his own armchair, Harry fell into it with a sigh before he began to detail his plans for the girls.
Harry had been right, he knew it was going to cost him but he would pay the price if it kept his friends safe.
