A/N: Sorry, had a KILLER case of writer's block. I must have sat and stared at this for hours on end without being able to write a single word. Anyway, here it is.
~Naralanis
Hermione and Narcissa had all but run to the castle's Medical Wing. To the brunette's unending dismay, Madame Pomfrey only let Narcissa in – saying she had priority as William White's head of House. The other witch had given her an odd look, but followed the Matron to see the young boy.
Which is how Hermione found herself impatiently pacing by the infirmary doors. Hermione felt betrayed, but also slightly validated – she knew something would happen. She had called it, and everyone had ignored her worries.
Neville had stopped by a few minutes after Narcissa went in, updating her in what had transpired – as far as he knew. Word was there had been some kind of scuffle between a few Gryffindors and Slytherins, and a duel broke out. A few other students had been caught in the middle, he said, among them William White and Spencer Wyndham from Slytherin, as well as Stuart Davies from Gryffindor, which had Hermione shocked. Davies did not seem the kind to be involved in senseless dueling in the castle corridors.
"Well" Neville had said "he was with his brother Edgar. He was one of a few of the older Slytherin students who apparently started the whole thing. My guess is he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."
Stuart and Spencer had already been discharged from the Infirmary with naught but a few bruises –William had caught the brunt of the spells, it seemed. Hermione seethed as she thought about him being specifically targeted, but Neville had told her otherwise.
His reasoning was that other students had undoubtedly participated, but had not been caught in time by Mr. Filch. The caretaker guessed the fight had broken out between at least five or six other students, all from upper-levels. The young first-years had not been left behind.
The idea did not make Hermione feel any better.
Narcissa followed Madame Pomfrey to one of the infirmary beds covered by a screen, her mind going a mile a minute. As they walked, the Matron filled her in on what had happened – the Potions professor was dismayed to think of her House's role in the scuffle, but she could not say she was in the least bit surprised.
William was quite startled to see his Head of House suddenly appear, so much so he drooled out most of the chicken broth he was drinking. Despite the boy's embarrassment, Narcissa was quite glad to see he was not hurt badly.
"P-professor Black!" He gasped, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his hospital gown.
"Hello, Mr. White." Narcissa said, her tone gentle. William reminded her of a young Draco at times, before her son found his self-confidence. "How are you this evening?" she asked, noting the discolored patches of yellow all over his face, which indicated heavy bruising in the process of healing.
The boy gave her a crooked, embarrassed smile that looked more like a grimace.
"Not too bad, Professor. Madam's Bruise Removal Paste is much better than mine." He tried to joke. Narcissa was happy about his attempt at humor.
"I have no doubt, Mr. White, that your paste would have been just as good had you been able to use the proper ingredients."
William preened a little with the praise. Narcissa smiled briefly before turning a sterner look to the boy.
"I don't wish to distress you, William, but I would like to ask what happened." She said. He swallowed.
"It was nothing, Professor."
Being a mother, a Black, and a former Malfoy, Narcissa could sniff out a lie a mile away. She was even a bit disappointed William wasted such an atrociously bad lie on her.
"I'm afraid I cannot accept that answer, Mr. White. Something clearly happened to leave you here in this state. Madam Pomfrey tells me you sustained heavy bruising, a cracked rib, and I assume the sling you're sporting isn't there for aesthetic purposes." She kept her tone even, but firm. "Whoever did this must face the consequences; this can be grounds for expulsion."
"No! Please, Professor, I don't want to cause more trouble." He begged, sitting up awkwardly against his pillows.
Narcissa immediately sensed there was more to this situation than met the eye. And she could also sense William might just be stubborn enough not to give any names. While it frustrated her in an administrative sense – she was still the Head of House, after all; it was her responsibility to take care of such matters – it also made her admire the boy's Slytherin qualities; he obviously had some kind of plan to deal with what had just transpired. She only worried it might not be the best course of action – in the aforementioned administrative sense.
"We will table the discussion of names for now, Mr. White. Are you willing to at least tell me what happened?" she asked a little more gently. She would get to the bottom of this – quietly and efficiently, like any proud Slytherin.
William squirmed a bit in indecisiveness, but eventually relented.
"Spencer and I were coming down from Astronomy. We were chatting and distracted; before I knew it there were spells flying every which way" he breathed out. "I couldn't even get my wand out." He added, and Narcissa felt for the shame marring his features. "I wasn't quick enough."
Narcissa nodded and stepped closer, sitting on the chair by the side of his bed. She regarded the young boy pensively.
"From what I was told" she began in her gentlest tone "You and Mr. Wyndham were attacked by older students. Older, meaning they have had much more time and practice. Older, meaning they are nothing but cowards for attacking first-years such as you and Mr. Wyndham." She reasoned, brushing a lock of his unruly blonde hair away from his shimmering green eyes. Narcissa could see very clearly, he still felt inadequate over his defenselessness. How Slytherin of him.
"William" she said firmly. "I am your Head of House. It is my job to deal with situations such as this."
He nodded somberly, but offered no further comment. She sighed.
"Mr. Wyndham seemed to have no more than a few bruises, William, while you lie here in hospital. That makes us Professors think you were deliberately attacked. Do you know why?"
William nodded once again. "Because I am a Mudblood."
Nothing could have prepared Narcissa for the shock she felt upon hearing the word coming from her most promising student. She felt something inside her break, and an intense shame washed over her entire being. How many times had she uttered that same word? To how many? She held his hand firmly in between her own.
"You are correct; however, I would like you to refrain from using that word to describe yourself, William. Take it from someone who's uttered too many times in her lifetime – it does not and will not ever be true."
William's expression was somber. "But it's true. I hear whispers in the corridors, my own Housemates talk about it when they think I can't hear them." He said, looking anywhere but at Narcissa. "I'm the first Muggleborn in Slytherin. I didn't understand it at first, but I've read all about it. Salazar Slytherin wanted a particular kind of wizard in his House – I'm not wizard enough to be in it." He finished sadly.
Only Narcissa's extensive experience in hiding her true emotions could have prepared her for such a statement. She schooled her features before they had the chance to demonstrate her shock.
"Take it from someone who believed in the concept of blood purity once upon a time, William: none of it, absolutely none of it is true. If the Sorting Hat put you in my House, that is where you belong." She said stoically.
"What if the Hat made a mistake?" he asked, his voice small.
"The Hat does not make mistakes." Narcissa said simply, because wasn't that the truth? "You are as Slytherin as any other pure or half-blooded witch or wizard in this noble House. With our history, perhaps you are just what we need." She added that last part almost as an afterthought – it did not make it any less true. He looked up at her in confusion.
"What do you mean, Professor?"
Narcissa righted herself in her chair.
"I am sure you are already aware of the notoriety of Slytherin House. Through the years, we have accumulated more than out fair share or Dark witches and wizards. The late Tom Riddle – more well-known as Lord Voldemort – was from Slytherin. I'm not sure how much you know of the past Wizarding War, but he preached blood purity ideals – values that have become inherently associated to Slytherin." She explained, wondering how much detail she should give the young man. She wondered how much he knew already, how much he had yet to discover.
"I've read a little about the war" he said shyly. "About Tom Riddle and his Death Eaters, and about Harry Potter." He paused. "Professor Granger helped him defeat Voldemort."
"Yes" Narcissa confirmed "she did. She is one of the bravest women the Wizarding World has known" She admitted.
"I have her Chocolate Frog cards – Spencer gave me some of his. She's one of the only witches and wizards to have two runs of cards – one for the war effort, the other is for her dueling championships." He babbled.
Narcissa smiled. "Yes, Ms. Granger is truly an accomplished witch. She was called the Brightest Witch of her Age. Between us, I don't think the war would have been won without her." She smiled.
"She won an Order of Merlin, did she not?" he asked.
"Yes" Narcissa confirmed. "She, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, as well as a few others, were granted the honor."
"And… so were you, Professor, right?"
Narcissa frowned in discomfort. Her Order of Merlin, Second Class was not something she liked to bring up. It was an honor most undeserved, and yet, Harry Potter himself, would not hear of anything else. To the former Malfoy matron's eternal and continuous embarrassment, the Boy-Who-Lived touted her praises, commending her 'unwavering courage' to defy the Dark Lord when it mattered most.
Narcissa loathed to hear that crock of shit.
And so it was that she found herself with a prestigious award she did not feel she deserved. If only Mr. Potter knew the shame the title caused her. If he had been a Slytherin, she would have suspected an ulterior motive on his part; to plague her eternally with the guilt the award dug out of her chest every time it was merely mentioned. She hated it.
But of course, Harry Potter was not that kind of person. He was decent, and genuinely believed the woman who lied for her family and nothing else deserved the sodding Order of Merlin for her war effort. Narcissa could not comprehend what went through Potter's mind - she and everyone else knew her war efforts were primarily concentrated on the other bloody side. She had the Dark Lord in her own home – what kind of war hero was that?
She realized William looked at her with an odd expression.
"Yes" she murmured uncomfortably. "However, I do not like to talk about it."
"Why not?"
Narcissa sighed. She did not owe this boy anything. He was her student, and nothing more. Plus, he was much too young to understand the intricacies of her upbringing, of the war, of everything that had plagued the Wizarding World before he found himself to be part of it.
"We can speak about this some other time, Mr. White. For now, I think you should rest. Do not think I have forgotten this incident – I want you to know my door is always open if you change your mind." She said it a little more coolly than she intended, slowly standing up. William seemed to shrink back into his pillows.
"Yes, of course. My apologies, Professor, I didn't mean to upset you. It's just…" he stopped short. Narcissa quirked an eyebrow.
"It's just what, Mr. White?"
"I'm sorry. It's nothing."
"Mr. White?"
The boy sighed. "People talk. I hear them in the Common Room, in the Great Hall. They look at me and they wonder."
"What exactly do they wonder, William?"
"They wonder how a member of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black can stand having mud like me in Slytherin." He whispered. "But you have the Order or Merlin for the War. I… I don't understand."
Narcissa sat back down, her eyes wide, searching for something in William's emerald gaze.
"I don't blame you" she rasped, facing the difficulty of explaining it to the boy. "Sometimes I barely understand it myself. I suppose you have read about my families? Both of them?" she said, because she knew if William had researched anything, he had most likely done it thoroughly. She was willing to bet he knew enough about the Blacks and the Malfoys to draw some unsavory conclusions that would, sadly, be correct. For the most part.
William reddened. "A little." He admitted.
"Then you know how notorious they were, the Blacks specially, about blood purity. The very motto of my family embodies it." She put a hand over his shoulder, not quite knowing how to phrase things. "I was raised to hate people such as yourself and Ms. Granger solely due to the circumstance of your births and my own. And for the longest time, I believed all the awful things my family taught me – I believed them so sincerely I followed my then-husband into the darkest circle of people I have ever known."
"The Death Eaters." William said. Narcissa nodded.
"Yes. My sister, my husband, my best friend, and even my own son were branded for the Dark Lord's cause." She admitted aloud for the first time in years.
"But you weren't, right, Professor?"
Narcissa let out a bitter chuckle and pulled away the sleeve of her left arm. William gazed at the unmarred skin.
"Not in that way, no. But in another way, William, I was branded for life."
"But" he said, his voice gaining a bit of confidence. "You changed your mind, no? I've read clippings of newspapers; you lied to the Dark Lord. That's why you got the Order of Merlin. Why?"
"William" Narcissa began, a little exasperated. "Such things are complicated, and truly I am not sure if I possess the ability to thoroughly explain them." How could she explain that she watched idly by and looked on as a girl, a teenager, a mere child was tortured and maimed in her own house? How could she explain that witnessing that – and other things – had broken something inside her in a way she never thought possible?
"I'm sorry, Professor. I'm just trying to understand."
Narcissa sighed. "I know, William. Trust me, it's quite alright – it's just a hard topic to talk about. In a way, Professor Granger helped me understand the error of my ways. I think it's best to leave it at that." As she spoke, she turned to look directly at the boy once more. "In fact, I think you and Ms. Granger have a lot in common. You know she's not your Head of House, but she would understand many of your worries. She would be able to help you in ways I simply cannot."
Narcissa was shocked at the vehemence of William's shaking head. She was about to ask, but William gasped out his response.
"I can't go to Professor Granger, Professor. She is amazing, and I read a lot about her, but I can't get any help from her. Please, Professor, it'll only make it worse. I stand out enough as it is, I can't be seen going to the Gryffindor Hero of Muggleborns for help." He said very quickly.
Narcissa understood, but was truly surprised with how intricately William himself seemed to understand his current predicament. "Ms. Granger worries about you, William."
"I know." He said "but I can't just talk to her whenever I please. And at the beginning of the year… People in the Common Room were talking about the prefects she had following me – I know she put them up to it, Professor. I know she means well, but… I just can't." he finished in an exasperated tone.
Narcissa smiled inwardly. She had told Hermione about how Slytherins went differently about things. Thankfully the brunette had taken her advice after a few false-starts.
"She does mean well." She agreed. "In fact, I spoke to her recently about your work in Transfiguration. We're both very glad you're doing better."
William broke out in a grin. "I'm happy too. I happen to like Transfiguration – it's quite difficult, but I enjoy it. Maybe once things are a little calmer at the House I'll speak to her. I could use some help."
"Well, why don't you see her now?" Narcissa said, the idea just now occurring to her. After all, it was one thing for William to go trotting to Hermione's office hours; it was quite another for a Professor to check on a student in the infirmary.
His eyes narrowed. "Now?"
"If you are up to it, of course." She replied gently. He seemed to take a moment to think, but his grin returned after only a few seconds.
"Alright!"
The sudden opening of the Medical Wing's heavy doors startled Hermione enough to make her miss a step in her pacing. She nearly faceplanted onto the floor, but managed to gather her bearings impressively quickly. Unfortunately, it seemed Narcissa had witnessed her slip – the blonde sported a raised eyebrow and a smirk tugged discreetly at her lips.
"Ms. Granger?"
"Yes?"
"Would you like a minute with Mr. White?" Narcissa asked politely. She chose not to mention the other witch's look of surprise.
"Oh, yes, absolutely. Is he alright? Does he know who was responsible for the attack? Has he told you?" Hermione shot off in a hurry.
Narcissa shook her head. Gryffindors. "I assure you. Mr. White is doing quite well – given the circumstances. He seems to know who was responsible, but is not willing to tell me. I believe he plans to deal with the situation on his own."
Hermione looked bewildered.
"But why?! We must do something, we can't just stand by!"
Narcissa stopped the woman from advancing with a gentle hand on her shoulder. Always so eager, those Gryffindors; the world was always so black-and-white.
"I agree, Ms. Granger. But Mr. White does not wish to tell us – we can only assume he has his reasons." She said, giving the brunette a meaningful look. The other witch huffed in exasperation.
"This is going to be one of those underhanded Slytherin things, isn't it? Where we don't do a thing we're supposed to do because another thing affects the thing we'll do, so we'll find another, more subversive way to do the thing?"
Narcissa could not contain her laughter. "Something like that." She looked at the brunette, a question in her eyes. "Will you be alright with our 'underhanded' Slytherin ways?" she asked.
Hermione let out a breath. "Let me make this clear – I don't like it. If William was in my House, I'd deal with this differently. I would never let a student deal with things on their own. But" she raised her hand when Narcissa looked to be on the verge of interrupting her. "He's not a Gryffindor. You talked to him. I'll refer judgement to you."
Narcissa gave the other witch a nod of acknowledgement. Truth be told, she was somewhat surprised the other witch had been so graceful – earlier in the year Hermione would have fought tooth and nail for the chance to do things her way. She was glad the witch finally understood.
"Good. Now, I've asked William if he would like to speak with you for a little while. He will not go to you as any other student would – he understands he will look weak to his peers if he goes to the Gryffindor Golden Girl, champion of Muggleborns throughout the land" she said in jest. Hermione rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "But he admires you" she added more seriously, taking in the brunette's look of surprise.
Without another word, Hermione let herself be led deeper into the Hospital Wing. As they turned beyond William's privacy screen, she could not contain a smile upon noticing the boy had done his best to sit up straight and tame his mussed blonde hair so he could look a little more presentable.
"Hello, Mr. White. How are you feeling?" she asked.
He gave her a shy smile.
"Much better, Professor, thank you"
Hermione regarded William pensively for a few moments, and the boy returned her gaze in kind. She could tell he was gauging what she knew, what Narcissa had told her, and, most importantly, what she would ask of him. Luckily for him, there would be no more interrogation tonight. As much as she disagreed with her methods, Hermione would let Narcissa handle it.
"That's good to hear. I'm not terribly fond of the Hospital Wing – I spent my fair share of time here as a student."
"Whatever for, Professor?"
Hermione laughed. Where to even start? She was never injured due to Quidditch or other strenuous activities – the very thought of Hermione Jean Granger hopping onto a broom willingly made her want to cackle with the absurdity.
"Well, it seemed every year my friends and myself were destined to be Madam Pomfrey's guests at least once or twice. I'm sure she tired of seeing our faces by my second or third year."
Narcissa left William and Hermione talking in the Hospital Wing, excusing herself so that the two Muggleborns could perhaps bond. She was no fool – Hermione Granger would in time became a great asset to young William, but for now, he needed to mark his place in Slytherin house on his own terms.
She made her way to the Astronomy Tower, an old haunt of hers when she was a student. In her younger years, she had loved the discipline, and the Tower had become a favorite place to study, to think, and to ponder. The place was such a contrast to the Slytherin Common Room and her Potions classroom – it took her from the deepest corners of the castle to its highest peak. It was there where she had made a most unusual friend as a young girl, one who would undoubtedly prove to be tremendously useful in her quest to find out what young William White was hiding. She had yet to pay him a visit now that she had returned to her beloved castle as a Professor – it was long overdue.
The Tower, to her, had always been beautiful at night, even if it now carried an aura of deep sadness and loss. She shivered thinking of her son standing there, tasked with the impossible. She sent a silent thankful thought to Severus Snape for watching over him so diligently, Unbreakable Vow or not. She thought about Albus Dumbledore and his kind eyes.
The faint rattling of chains broke her away from her thoughts. Narcissa smiled.
"Lord Albert, I summon thee." She spoke to the darkness.
The rattling stopped. A cold draft crept up the space, chilling her to the bone. It had been so long since she had felt such a sensation, she had to stop her teeth from clattering. A few paces in front of her, mist coming from nowhere seemed to slowly condense itself into a solid form.
There he stood, with his blank eyes and his gaunt countenance. The silvery shimmer of bloodstains in his robes glittered eerily in the moonlight, and the heavy-looking chains he carried swayed slightly, dangling from his arms. Narcissa's smile widened.
The Bloody Baron stood tall, taller than Narcissa. She had not seen the specter since she left Hogwarts all those years ago. While most of the school feared the spirit due to his frightening appearance, an eleven-year-old Narcissa had been intrigued by his silent and restrained demeanor. She often saw or heard him clanking his chains and moaning in the Astronomy Tower, and didn't mind the noise, as she was much too concentrated in her study of the skies above.
The Baron, on the other hand, seemed miffed to have an intruder so often. Of course, students always came and went through the Tower – they attended classes there, after all. But Narcissa was always to be found there after hours, almost daily. To make matter worse, the child was relentlessly inquisitive.
"You seem to rattle around here quite often. Why is that?"
As usual, the Baron did not deign to respond. Young Narcissa wondered, as she gathered her Astronomy texts in a pile on the Tower floor, if anyone in the castle had ever heard him make a sound other than his ghoulish moans in the night.
"Everyone calls you The Bloody Baron. What is your name?" she tried. A response never came.
She kept asking every night she saw the ghost. He never responded to any of her questions, but she still babbled on as she mapped Ursa Major or studied the craters of the moon. Sometimes the Slytherin ghost would not even make an appearance, but Narcissa could still hear his chains rattling onto the stone floors. Every now and then, a chill overtook her, and she knew it was just the Baron taking a stroll.
Now, years later, he looked at her with his blank eyes as fondly as ghost could. Who knew all it took to open up the frightening Baron was a persistently impertinent child's questions over the course of seven years? It was in her second year that she had found out his name – Bella had gotten her a book from the Restricted Section, an old tome detailing the first generations of students to attend Hogwarts. The Baron Albert Bruce Gregory had been a pupil of Salazar Slytherin himself.
"Lady Black, 'tis my pleasure to welcome thee back to Hogwarts." He said pleasantly. Though his appearance was ghastly, his voice was a smooth baritone that rung clearly within the walls of the tower; it was a voice so beautiful none would think it a ghost's – especially considering his ghoulish moans.
"Thank you, sir. I am glad to be back."
"'How may I serve thee, Madam?" he asked with a gallant bow. His manners reminded her of all the etiquette lessons she and her sisters had to attend, along with their cousins.
"My friend, I know you see all in our Noble House. You have encountered the Muggleborn student sorted this year, I presume?"
The Baron nodded solemnly.
"I has't seen the young sir" he said gravelly. "Roaming the halls alone whilst tongues of nobler birth whisper ill-thoughts." His void eyes seemed to harden into stone. "Danger lurks wherever he goeth."
Narcissa furrowed her brows. "There was an incident earlier today. William was attacked, but he does not wish to share the names of his attackers."
The specter nodded in some kind of silent pondering. "A most cunning gent – a mind like thine very own." He commented.
"My friend, did you see who attacked him?"
"I myself has't not, Madam. But Peeves, the knave, spake just now of students crossing wands in the corridors."
Narcissa smiled inwardly. What luck that the one ghost she'd befriend at Hogwarts just happened to be the one and only capable of reining in the blaster poltergeist.
"Will you find out, Lord Albert? Be my eyes when I cannot see. I wish for William to prove himself in Slytherin, but I cannot let such abuse go unchecked."
"Thy wish is my command, my Lady. I shall watch over the young sir and for any villainy against him committed."
"Thank you, my friend." Narcissa said gratefully.
The Baron turned and began to disappear after another courteous bow. Narcissa felt a deep chill permeate through to her very bones. A clank was heard in the dark of night, and then the Baron's voice, echoing distantly:
"Watch for him I shall, for soon the pale-faced moon shall look bloody upon the earth."
