Seven Years Chapter 10

Ah chapter 10. Yay.

AN: No, I don't own the copyrights.

AN 2: Yes, I'm aware of the big reveal. No it doesn't change my outline.

Beta Reader: chocolateowl.


Morning came and went for Merula, especially because Draco refused to talk to her at the breakfast table, and Lucius practically marched Draco out of the room the minute Draco finished his food.

Apart from a breakfast that she hardly noticed, Merula spent the morning flying around Malfoy Manor, on a broom she knew that belonged to Draco, but since he was trapped in his room with Lucius, she figured he wasn't in a position to complain.

She was still in the air when she spotted an owl she barely recognized. What was Potter's owl doing here?

Merula paused midway though her swoop and lowered herself to the ground as the owl dropped something before turning away. So much for giving Hedwig a treat before she left.

Merula grinned as she caught the paper midway through the air, and grumbled to herself when she saw the paper was a roughly folded note. Potter, or whoever had written the note, really had no idea how to send a proper letter.

Merula sighed as she landed on the soft snow around Malfoy Manor, relishing the crunch of fresh snow under her boots before she examined the letter. Now, what did Potter want?

To her surprise, the letter was short, and contained only four words, though she could tell with the clean penmanship it wasn't from the idiot Weasley. Which, in all honesty, made the message even worse.

"The mirror is gone?" Merula spluttered, rubbing her eyes furiously as she stared down the note. What in Merlin's name did Potter mean by that? Was this some kind of joke? Did the mirror grow legs and go on a stroll? Did Peeves decide he wanted it to do ghost things?

Part of Merula wanted to fly back to Hogwarts and shake the truth out of Potter. He couldn't be that heavy. He would tell her more if she shook him a few times, right?

But another part of Merula wanted to talk to Lucius. If nothing else, he could help her Floo over to the village of Hogsmeade. Then she could fly over to Hogwarts and shake the truth out of Potter. Much faster than flying all the way from Malfoy Manor.

And so Merula got on Draco's old broom and began to fly back, landing by the front door a few minutes later and stomping on the steps hard. No point getting yelled at by Narcissa for getting the floors wet.

The insides of Malfoy Manor came with a wave of comforting warmth in contrast to the cold fields outside, and Merula sighed in relief as she took her coat off, tossing it at Dobby as she headed up to her room.

The door to Draco's room was shut, just as she expected, but Merula figured that she could at least get five minutes out of her father. So she knocked on the door.

There was a moment of silence, then the door swung open. "Merula?"

"Potter sent his owl," Merula said, unwilling to meet her father's eyes and extending the short letter over. "I- what do you think I should do?"

Lucius took the folded note and flipped the paper open, his lips in a thin line before he turned back towards Draco. "I will finish with Draco here, and we'll talk it over later."

Then the door shut, and Merula was left standing in the hall alone.

And since she was alone, Merula returned back to her books, though she couldn't get the topic of the missing mirror out of her head.

The good news came when Dobby came to call her to lunch, getting his message out in-between banging his head against the wall. Lunch was good, because it at least meant she didn't have to think of the mirror.

Instead, Merula did the only logical thing for someone in her position: give Draco small, cruel smirks and savour over how tired he looked after an entire morning with her father. It was only when Narcissa claimed she wanted Dravco to go shopping with her did her stomach finally decide to betray her, and Merula ate openly in front of her father.

To her surprise, Lucius didn't say anything to her, not until her plate was empty and Dobby's head meeting the wall had become a distant rhythm that she could ignore out of hand. And yet still, Merula was sure her father had cast some sort of charm that locked the room away from the rest of the house, because all of a sudden Merula couldn't even hear Dobby's head bashing against their nice walls.

"I understand that you might be… disappointed about this news," Lucius said at last, breaking the silence as he tapped the table slowly. "Yet still, making a needless enemy out of the famed Harry Potter is not a path I want you to go down, especially since Draco has already gone that path. It would be problematic in the future if this Weasley beside him is able to poison his mind. As such, I will rely on you to remove the poison this Weasley has been feeding him, and to do that, you must be close to him."

Merula said nothing, but she understood her father's point. Making a needless enemy out of Potter was a bad idea, especially if Weasley could continue to manipulate Potter. But the words sparked anger inside Merula. How dare the blood traitor Ron Blasted Weasley poison the mind of the Boy Who Lived?

"I will tell you some good news, if you intend to continue with your… project," Lucius said, his lips spreading into a small smile.

"What is it?" Merula asked, suddenly curious, even as the anger at the Weasley made her want to blast Dobby with a savage hex. "Have you found what the mirror is?"

Lucius chuckled, but he also shook his head. "No, but I do recall that your family was quite active in their years at Hogwarts. Your uncle, for example, played Keeper for us, and your father played Beater."

"Really?" Merula asked, suddenly thinking of the dark trophy room she had snuck into at Hogwarts. She hadn't stepped foot in the room since the night she ran into Potter, but could she find the names of her family engraved on a cup somewhere?

"If I recall, they were good friends," Lucius said, pausing for a moment before he spoke again. "Very good friends even before your mother was introduced. Your father was introduced to your mother by your uncle. He was the best man at your parent's wedding, in fact."

Merula blinked as the memory of her smiling family came to mind. Were there photos of her parent's wedding sitting in a box somewhere? "Are there photos of that?"

Lucius paused, his lips suddenly in a thin line. "I do remember photos being taken, but I do not know where they've gone. Perhaps they are at your old home, but I do not know the answer to that question."

Merula averted her eyes to the floor. She didn't want him to see that she was disappointed, but deep down, under the wave of disappointment that washed over her, she knew that he knew.

"Is there anything in Hogwarts about my mother?" Merula asked at last, breaking the silence.

"The Frog Choir," Lucius replied after a long moment of silence. "She was quite good at singing, though, as I understood it, she only did so for her family. If you were to join the club, I expect you would be very good at it."

Merula shook her head. "I can't. Nobody at Hogwarts likes me anyways."

The room fell into silence again before Lucius stood up. "I suppose I do understand your conundrum. It would be difficult to be devoted to three separate and different fields of work at once, especially in your early years. Still, I'm sure I can… convince a few of your housemates to assist in your endeavour."

Merula sat up. "Really?"

Lucius smiled at that. "But I do have conditions. A few, but I'm sure if you put the work in, they will not be issues."

"What are they?" Merula asked, holding her breath as she stared at her father.

"First of all, I expect that all of your grades remain within the Outstanding grade," Lucius said, holding up one finger. "Do this, and there will be no doubt of your academic skill. No matter what your detractors may say."

Merula nodded until she was sure she was imitating Dobby.

"Second," a second finger rose as Merula forced herself to focus again. "Draco must pass all of his courses."

Merula blinked. "I don't understand. What am I supposed to do?"

"I expect that you'll ensure his work is error free before it is due," Lucius said, his voice calm. "And if he is slacking off, I expect you to tell me immediately. I will ensure that his behaviour is rectified."

Merula shivered at the last word, but still felt a grin spread to her face. She could use that against Draco. "Alright then, anything else?"

"Lastly, you will not create unnecessary trouble for your House."

Merula gritted her teeth and crossed her arms as a flash of anger flared up inside her chest. "Fine."

"You seem disappointed," Lucius said, his eyes boring into hers. "Tell me why."

"Everyone at Hogwarts causes trouble," Merula grumbled under her breath. "Potter showed up to the Trophy Room with Weasley, the Mud- Granger, and Longbottom!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"And Granger set Professor Snape's robes on fire!" Merula added.

The eyebrow went even higher, as Merula was sure she saw a hint of a smile on her father's face before he sighed. Perhaps her father found the idea funny. "Very well then, in… extraordinary times I will give you a pass, but I will expect you to explain to me once your classes are over why you felt like you had to break the rules."

Merula nodded, her mouth returning to normal as her arms dropped to her sides. "Father? I want to ask one more question."

"You have my attention," Lucius said, turning away from Merula to pour a drink.

"What about Potter's parents?"

There was silence in the room as Merula felt herself looking down at the floor. "I mean, I'm supposed to establish a good relationship with Potter, right? To get him away from Weasley."

"Correct," the answer came. "Although I'm not sure what you're saying."

"Are there any portraits of Potter's parents at Hogwarts?" Merula asked.

"James Potter played Chaser for Gryffindor," Lucius said, pausing for a long moment before he continued. "I don't recall anything for Lily- ah."

"Father?" Merula asked.

"Lily partook in a number of clubs of note," the answer came. "Still, I'm pleased to remember she was a member of the Slug Club, and if memory serves correctly, was Head Girl in her year."

Merula nodded. "I'll pass the information on to Potter, in case we can't find the mirror."

"Good," the answer came. "Do write if Mr. Potter requires additional supplies. I'll be quite pleased to help him there."

Merula smiled and hugged her father, holding her arms around his waist for a long moment before she left the dining hall, heading back to her room.


To her disappointment, Merula received no further letters from Potter before she headed back to Kings Cross Station, though she was sure to pack the two extra tubes of paint that Lucius handed her one evening. She was to become friends with Potter, after all.

The trip back to Hogwarts was long and quiet, and Merula found that she quite liked the warm, empty compartment she had to herself. Who needed to play stupid card games with idiots anyways?

The first thing Merula did after she arrived at Hogwarts was to unpack her things, though she took extra care to ensure the precious contents of her suitcase were kept under lock and key. There was no point in showing them to anyone, not yet anyhow.

But unlike her housemates, Merula took a detour, away from the crowds of students surging up to the Great Hall. She was going to confirm that Potter was telling the truth, and if she found the mirror in the original place, she was going to turn him into a ferret.

Merula felt the slightest tinge of sadness as she found herself standing where she would have sat the previous semester, sketching away, uncaring of the outside world. It would have been nice to spend the rest of the year alone, a private sanctuary that nobody would think to violate. Though the room itself still stood mostly untouched, Merula could see that the mirror, as per Potter's letter, was nowhere to be found.

She stood in the room for a moment before she turned away. If nothing else, she knew that the room where the Frog Choir met would be deserted, with all the students at the feat. That was good, because it would mean that she would be alone, to have quality time with her mother. After that, she could simply wait until her house went to sleep to investigate Slytherin's own archives for her father and uncle.

She headed for the room where the Frog Choir met first, the dark room partially lit only by the weak light of her wand. But still Merula persisted, taking slow, measured steps along the walls.

It was when she found the first portraits, well over a century old, that Merula felt the first sense of joy. The portraits were old, and she was sure the wizards and witches within were dead as dust, but this was a sign that she was on the right path. And so she continued, rushing forward faster than before.

The last of the nineteenth century wizards fell away, and Merula began to count the years, though in fives. It was only when she reached the year 1950 did Merula slow down to a disciplined pace, examining each face on the old, yellowed photos before moving on. She saw faces she believed she had seen in newspapers, of faces she had remembered but had no names to tie to.

And then Merula found her mother. The year labelled as 1968, and Merula almost yelled in triumph, but she barely managed to keep quiet.

This version of her mother was different. Different from the mirror, different from those precious memories Merula still clung to. She was younger, dressed in the same proud green uniform Merula wore, her face rounder than any time Merula had ever remembered.

And yet Merula knew that she couldn't paint from the picture. The paper was yellowed with decades of age, and the full body of her mother was the length of a quill, if Merula was going to be honest. She couldn't do justice to her mother with such a small model.

And so Merula moved forward. The next picture showed her mother a year older, and whereas she had managed a shy smile in the first picture, having hidden away at the edges of the old photo, Merula felt her heart soar when she saw her mother's beaming smile, proud of who she was, in the first row rather than the second, with her head up and eyes staring unflinching into the camera. Was this her mother at the happiest time in her life? Merula wanted to know more, and she badly wanted to recreate the light within her mother's eyes on a page, so she could always have her mother by her side.

But the second picture was the same as the first. Too small to recreate, especially on a larger scale. And so, with her heart sinking, Merula moved on.

The third photo was the last, and Merula already had a nagging suspicion why. 1970 was when the First Wizarding War started, and Merula could see it in her mother's eyes. There were differences in this photo in contrast to the previous ones. Her mother had clipped her hair short, her arms clasped firmly behind her back, hidden by long sleeves. Merula wondered if the dark mark her mother had shown her in secret, when nobody else was watching, had been branded on her mother's arm.

And yet the biggest difference was the stance her mother had, as if she was shrinking away from those around her. Merula didn't recognize the faces around her mother, but she had a suspicion they were Mudbloods, or worse.

And this photo of a dark, angry and disgusted version of her mother had the same flaws as the previous two, though Merula doubted that she would use such a photo even if it was large enough for her. The hate in her mother's eyes disturbed her, and Merula shivered, pulling her cloak close.

Merula extinguished her wand with a slight flick of her wrist before she headed back for the hallway beyond, her steps quiet against the cold floor.

When she reached the hallway, Merula paused for a moment to check the time, and grimaced at the result. She had spent too much time in the room of the Frog Choir. If she was to head back to the common room, she would have to deal with the early finishers of dinner, and if she was to head to the Great Hall, she would have to deal with the rest of her class. Neither was an appealing option. It was like the little witch who wandered into the house of two bear Animagi, only there was no good option to take, just two bad ones.

Yet Merula forced herself to walk. Her stomach was still empty, apart from the burned pancakes Dobby had made in the morning. She had seen Lucius cut Dobby open for it with some sort of powerful dark magic, but even the Canadian maple syrup Narcissa kept for special breakfasts wasn't enough to cover the nasty taste in her mouth.

So Merula headed down the stairs. Maybe if she could find the kitchens, she could grab something from the goblins without having to deal with the idiots Hogwarts insisted were her peers. That would have been nice, especially if it meant she could head to bed early.

But halfway down her first flight of stairs, Merula groaned. She heard a loud, annoying voice echo up the stairs, a voice she recognized as the idiot Weasley immediately.

But Merula was better than him, and would always be better than him. Besides, she had to act carefully around him, because his father could cobble up enough lies to raid Malfoy Manor.

And then Merula saw Potter's head next to Weasley, and the mission from Lucius came to mind, and she felt disappointed. No way she could separate Potter from Weasley to talk in private.

But when Merula stepped aside to walk by Weasley, she felt a pair of hands grab her arm.

"Weasley!" Merula hissed, grabbing at her wand with her spare arm as she looked up to glare at her assailant. "What are you-"

Potter's green eyes met hers, a second before the hands disappeared from her arm.

"Sorry," Potter muttered. "I'll-"

"Potter," Merula asked, taking pains to be civil, even as she glared at the stinking Weasley. "Could I talk to you for a few minutes?"

"Harry-" Weasley began, and Merula felt a small smirk of satisfaction when Potter raised a hand, silencing the red-haired annoyance.

"I'll be fine," Potter said. "Do you mind waiting here?"

Merula said nothing, but oh, did she enjoy the look of horror on Weasley's face. But sadly, she didn't get to enjoy it for long, because Potter headed up the stairs soon after, and Merula had to head up after him, leaving Weasley alone.

They didn't walk far, all things considered. Potter only put a staircase worth of distance between her and Weasley, but it was enough to give them some privacy.

"So," Merula said, choosing her words carefully as she remembered to not antagonize Potter. "What happened with the mirror?"

"I showed it to Ron," Potter said after a long minute.

"Weasley," Merula muttered, not able to hide her disgust. "What did he see?"

"Something related to Quidditch," Potter replied. "But… Professor Dumbledore caught me in the room one night. He said that the mirror was too dangerous, and I think that's why he took it away."

A cold, empty feeling seized Merula's heart as she forced a nod. For the headmaster to have taken the mirror was the logical outcome, especially if the mirror was really dangerous in some way, yet Merula still felt grimly disappointed.

"It's not your fault Potter," she said at last. "You couldn't have predicted what Professor Dumbledore would have done, as unfortunate as it is for both of us."

Potter nodded as he turned around. "And Merula?"

Merula froze on the spot as her brain shut down. Who actually called her by her name? Even Professor Snape didn't do that.

"Potter?" Merula managed to splutter.

"Thanks for the chocolate," Potter said as he turned away. "I really appreciate it."

"Wait-" Merula cut in, desperate for a moment to process the dozen conflicting thoughts in her head, her words freezing Potter in his tracks. "I asked father about your parents."

Potter turned around, his face full of evident confusion. "I- I don't understand."

"After-" Merula started, pausing to gather her thoughts, cursing herself for not thinking before she spoke. How was she going to explain any of this to Potter in an acceptable way? "After I got your note, I asked my father if there were any other portraits of your parents at Hogwarts."

Potter took a deep breath. "And?"

"He said your father played Quidditch," Merula said, managing a little laugh. "Same as mine, actually."

"Lucius played Quidditch?" Potter asked.

The giggle died, and Merula swallowed as she thought of her father, locked away in a dark, cold cell. "No, my real father. Lucius said that he was on the same team as my uncle, and met my mother through him."

"Oh," Potter said, with something that Merula knew was hope in his eyes. "And my mom?"

"She was Head Girl and attended something called the Slug Club," Merula recited from memory. "I'm not sure what the Slug Club is, but that's what I was told."

Potter nodded slowly, his eyes cast down at the floor beneath them. "Thanks Merula. I wish I could help more with the mirror."

"What did Dumbledore mean by it was dangerous?" Merula wondered out loud. "It's not like the mirror was doing anything in that room anyway."

Potter shook his head again. "He said that people could lose touch with reality if they looked into the mirror too long, and yet, from what he said, the mirror didn't seem too dangerous."

"What did he say?" Merula asked.

"He said... " Potter trailed off. "He said the mirror reflected the deepest desires of anyone who looked into it, and yet he said all he seemed to want was a warm pair of socks."

Merula narrowed her eyes as she looked at Potter. He was serious, even about the socks. "The deepest desires, a pair of socks."

"I think he meant that anyone with a truly impossible desire could lose themselves to the mirror." Potter said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Like how we both just want to see our families again, even if that's impossible."

The words triggered a memory, one that Merula had forgotten until then. It was the first time she had heard the story of the Deathly Hallows, narrated to her by her mother's rich, deep voice. And of how Death claimed the second brother by showing him a glimpse of his beloved.

"Merula?" Potter asked, breaking her chain of thought. "Are you alright? You look pale."

Merula forced herself to shake her head. "Just a silly children's tale. It's nothing."

Potter didn't look convinced, especially when Merula felt a shiver run through her back.

"Fine," Merula muttered as her teeth started to chatter. "Ever hear of the Deathly Hallows, Potter?"

Potter shook his head as Merula sneezed.

"It's a kids story," Merula muttered. "Three brothers who came across Death one day. One really wanted to see his beloved who had died."

One of Potter's eyebrows went up. Clearly he was interested in the story.

"Death offered him something that could bring someone back from the dead called the Resurrection Stone." Merula said, noting how Potter flinched and his mouth fell open. "But when the brother used the stone, the woman he brought back was some form of half-living shade, and he couldn't be with her."

Potter's look of disappointment was obvious, followed by a mixture of sorrow and horror.

"Eventually, the brother couldn't take it anymore," Merula said, her eyes unwilling to look at Potter anymore as she heard her voice trail off. "And he took his own life to be with her."

"Do you think the mirror could be this stone?" Harry sounded genuinely afraid now.

Merula shook her head furiously. "My father and uncle- my real father and uncle are still alive. They're in Azkaban, but they're still alive, but perhaps the mirror could drive people to do… bad things."

Harry swallowed. "Professor Dumbledore said something like that."

Merula nodded as she heard a peal of laughter, or more specifically, two.

"Oh no," Harry said as he ran over to the railing. "It's Fred and George giving Ron a hard time. Merula, I have to go."

Merula grimaced at the thought of the two hellhounds who had pranked her at the start of the school year. "Stay safe Potter.

Then Merula fled up the stairs, far away from the three Weasleys and the Boy Who Wasn't So Bad Once You Got To Know Him.


AN: Wow. Thanks to the reader who pointed out I needed to have characters listed. I had somehow missed that when I first started publishing this story last year.

Next chapter to be published: Gwen Stacy visits a vandalized building.