HARRY POTTER AND THE SECRET ENEMY
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 27: Post-Game Developments
7 November 1992 (After the Quidditch Match)
The Gryffindor Boy's Locker Room
The first clue that something was amiss was when Fred, George and Oliver made it back to the locker room to find the door standing wide open. Inside, they found that all the non-Quidditch clothing they'd brought to change into after the game had been unceremoniously dumped into the middle of the communal showers, doused with water, and then apparently frozen into a block of ice with a Freezing Charm. As pranks went, it was pretty feeble, though plenty annoying for three guys in sweaty, smelly Quidditch gear and certainly not the sort of thing the Twins would let go without retaliation if they found out who did it. The real drama started when George opened his locker and found that it was empty save for a folded piece of paper.
Dear Weasley Terror,
I don't know who this book bag belonged to (whether it's the stupid one or the ugly one), but at least one of you blood traitors will have a difficult time in class without your books and notes. Such a pity you're too wretchedly poor to buy replacement copies of your text books. Mess with the snakes, and you get bit.
Signed,
A Slimy Slytherin
P.S. Slytherins Rule. Gryffindors Drool.
P.P.S Poof
With that, there was a flash of green flame and the paper disintegrated. George slowly sat down on a bench, completely stunned.
"It's okay, Brother-of-Mine," said Fred. "You can use my textbooks for your homework. I mean, we sit next to each other so it's not the end of the world."
George looked up at his twin, his eyes misting with emotion. "Fred, I had the Map folded up in my Charms book."
"... What?" Fred said. "I mean... you ... you WHAT?! How could you be so...?"
George's face hardened. "How could I be so what, Fred? You were there when we talked about taking Ron exploring right after the Quidditch match. I hid it in my bag so it would be handy and we wouldn't have to go back for it."
Fred sighed in frustration. "Let's look around outside, George. Maybe they just threw it up on the roof or something."
"Fred," said George dejectedly. "The Slytherins hate us. I'm not talking about Slytherin-Gryffindor rivalry. I mean they hate you and me. I reckon the book bag and the Map are either at the bottom of Black Lake or else they're burning up in the Slytherin fireplace. Not to mention they got all my notes for Lockhart's research group. And the really hilarious thing is that they were probably just being petty by stealing my books and my notes. Whoever took the Map probably has no idea what he has and won't even after he's destroyed it."
George put his head down into his hands and then jumped a few seconds later when Fred struck the door to his locker so hard he put a dent into it. "Oww!" he hissed in pain as he shook his hand out.
"Oi!" said Oliver Wood as he stepped back out of the shower where he'd been trying to defrost the trio's fresh clothing. "What's all this then?"
Fred said nothing. Finally, George spoke. "Whichever Slytherin messed with our clothes also took ... something that belongs to us."
"Was it valuable?" Wood asked. Both boys nodded. "Well, go and tell McGonagall about it. I'm sure she'll turns some rocks over and get it returned to you." Then, he went back to his defrosting efforts.
Fred actually laughed harshly at the thought of telling their Head of House about the Map and asking for her to get it back to them. "Oh yeah, that's going to happen. 'Here's yuir map, wee bairn. Now go back to makin' yuir mischief!" he said in a poor attempt at a Scottish accent. George didn't laugh.
The Infirmary
With surprising care, Flint and Pucey shifted Harry's unconscious body from the stretcher to an infirmary bed. Once the boy was situated, Madame Pomfrey unceremoniously kicked the two older Slytherins out of the infirmary along with everyone else, though Flint got Snape to promise to provide the House with an update soon. Outside in the corridor, several of Harry's friends and teammates (plus a few miscellaneous Slytherins interested mainly out of House pride) congregated waiting for news. After about fifteen minutes, Snape came out to address the group.
"Madame Pomfrey has completed her initial assessment. Mr. Potter is expected to recover without any lasting repercussions. His skull fracture has already been repaired, and he is currently sedated, having already taken several potions to address his concussion. He will be kept overnight for observation, but the mediwitch expects to release him tomorrow morning. He will not be seeing any visitors other than family, so all of you may now leave the area. That is all." With that, he turned and went back into the infirmary, closing the door rather firmly behind him. With that, the various prefects in attendance began herding students away from the infirmary.
"I don't see why everyone's so worried about Potter, anyway," muttered Cassius Warrington to his Pureblood associate Miles Bletchley. "If he can't handle a Bludger hit, maybe Quidditch is too much for him. Don't you agree, Bletchley?"
"Are you mental, Warrington?!" the other Pureblood exclaimed. "A rogue Bludger is probably the most dangerous thing that can happen in Quidditch. More often than not, professional Quidditch games get called off when a Bludger goes rogue. For a Second Year to insist on playing and then dodge two Bludgers for most of the game is amazing." He sniffed at the other Pureblood disdainfully. "And frankly, I've seen you fly, Warrington, and I don't think you'd have lasted thirty seconds."
Warrington's eyes flashed angrily. "Well, listen to you, Bletchley. Has being around that little blood traitor made you go soft? Whatever would your father say?"
"I imagine he'd say he was proud that he didn't raise me to be a fool, Warrington. Whatever our disagreements about politics, Potter's blood on his father's side is purer than mine and yours put together. And while his mother may be a Mudblood, she's got more NEWTs than either of us have a chance of seeing. Potter proved himself to me on the pitch today. If you can't see that he is a better Chaser than you and has bigger balls than you, that's your blindness not mine."
With that, the Keeper stormed off, leaving a fuming Cassius Warrington behind. Angry at the insult, Warrington looked around to see if anyone had seen the altercation. The only person nearby was a red-headed Gryffindor who stood about ten feet away, staring at him with an unreadable expression. "What are you looking at, brat?" he snarled.
Ron Weasley shrugged. "Drama?" he said before turning and walking away, softly whistling "God Save the Queen" as he went.
Hagrid's Hut
Tea Time
Hermione and Neville approached the hut cautiously. They weren't frightened of Hagrid by any means, but they both knew that they were about to try and tap him for information about a subject that would almost certainly be painful to the gentle half-giant. And unfortunately, the two Gryffindors agreed that they weren't the best at that kind of subtle interrogation. Honestly, they needed Harry for this sort of thing, but Snape had announced that he'd be out of action until Sunday at the earliest, and they'd already arranged to have tea with the Gamekeeper on Saturday afternoon after the Quidditch match.
Summoning his Gryffindor courage, Neville rapped sharply on the door. Hagrid jerked the door open quickly as if he were expecting trouble, but then his face lit up with a smile. "Ah, Hermione and Neville! Come in! Come in! I've jus' put the kettle on."
Hermione and Neville entered the hut and sat down for tea, which was mercifully free of rock cakes. They made small talk about the game (Hagrid felt bad for "poor Jim" but was very impressed with Harry and Draco), about their classes, about rumors of Professor Kettleburn's upcoming retirement, about the weather. Finally, Neville took a deep breath and raised the topic they both really wanted to talk about.
"Hagrid, I don't know if you've been following the school news lately, but a lot of students are really worried about what happened last Saturday night – that whole business with Mrs. Norris and that writing on the wall. There's all sorts of rumors floating around. They're saying that 'the Heir' refers to 'the Heir of Slytherin' and his 'enemies' are all the Muggle-born in the school. They're also worried that there might be more petrifications in the future, maybe even of students." Neville paused and swallowed. "Some of the students have been researching, and they found out that the Chamber was supposedly opened once before ... back when you were a student. We were wondering if you could tell us about what you remember from back then." Actually, Neville already knew that Hagrid had been expelled around that time, possibly for some reason related to the earlier petrifications, but he wanted to let Hagrid reveal that detail if it came up at all. Harry would have commended him for the clever Slytherinesque misdirection, but Neville was very Gryffindorish and all this manipulation made him feel a bit queasy.
Hagrid looked pained by the question but also resigned, as if he knew it was inevitable that such questions would be coming from somebody. "Better Frank Longbottom's boy than some auror, I reckon," he thought. And with that, he began his tale.
Rubeus Hagrid was Sorted into Gryffindor in 1940. To say he was big for his age was an absurd understatement. Most of the other firsties were openly afraid of him, even among his Gryffinor classmates, and he couldn't even fit in a dormitory bed, so he ended up in a room by himself outside of Gryffindor Tower. It was lonely at first, but gradually, he made a few friends, though sadly few of them were human. Indeed, his best friend that year had eight legs: an acromantula that Hagrid found while exploring in the Forbidden Forest. Aragog was small for an acromantula, only about three feet across, and once he realized he couldn't bite through Hagrid's skin, he became quite companionable and surprisingly well-spoken for a killer spider. By the end of First Year, Hagrid had taught him to read.
Of course, Hagrid had always had a way with animals. His size and strength allowed him to easily manhandle large beasts, his skin was too tough to be clawed or bit easily, and he had a natural resistance to most forms of poison. Consequently, he was allowed to help Professor Wilbur Grubbly-Plank as a teaching aide in Care of Magical Creatures starting in his First Year. Grubbly-Plank (whose daughter Wilhelmina was two years behind Hagrid) and Deputy Headmaster Dumbledore were Hagrid's two favorite teachers and his two biggest boosters among the Hogwarts faculty. Unfortunately, quite a few teachers didn't care for the idea of a half-giant at Hogwarts. Even more unfortunately, one of those was Armando Dippet, the Headmaster, who seemed disgusted by his presence in the school. Hagrid tried his best and got decent grades, but he was still isolated and alone.
In Second Year, however, Hagrid finally made some human friends. One was a slightly abrasive Ravenclaw named Myrtle Warren who spent her time alone in the Library avoiding the teasing of her cruel year-mates. Another was Eugene "Nobby" Leach, a boisterous lad whose easy laugh concealed the sadness he felt from knowing first hand how poorly even the "we'll take the rest" Hufflepuffs treated their Muggle-borns. But Nobby and Myrtle didn't have it near as bad as poor Tom Riddle, a Muggle-raised orphan Sorted into Slytherin who didn't know anything about either of his parents and so was presumed to be a Muggle-born as well. Two years ahead of Hagrid, Myrtle and Nobby, everybody in the school liked Tom. Or at least, everybody but his fellow Slytherins. Still, he never seemed to let it get him down, and he embraced his "presumed Muggle-born" status with gusto, making it his business to see that all the other Muggle-born and Muggle-raised stuck together. By the end of Hagrid's Second Year, Tom was running study groups for all the Muggle-borns in the school, and all of them were doing remarkably well, much to the chagrin of the Slytherin Purebloods. But that year was marred by tragedy as well, when Hagrid's father passed away of Dragon Pox. With no other family to look after him, Dumbledore pulled every string he could find to get Hagrid appointed to a job as junior-assistant gamekeeper just so he could stay at the castle during the Summer.
In Hagrid's Third Year, he was finally allowed to take Care of Magical Creatures as a student rather than a teacher's aide, and Professor Grubbly-Plank was delighted by his studiousness and his encyclopedic knowledge of obscure and dangerous creatures. Even though he was just a Third Year, by Christmas, the professor was suggesting that he pursue a Mastery in the subject after graduation. The only problem that year – well, during first term, at least – was that Tom no longer had time to watch over his Muggle-born proteges. He'd been made the Fifth Year Slytherin prefect (to the outrage of Purebloods like Abraxas Malfoy and his stooges) and he was in his OWLs year, so he didn't have any spare time to help with his friends studying, though he did pop in from time to time to give advice and encouragement.
It was right after Christmas Break ended that the real trouble started. Nobby Leach was the first to be petrified. His body was found just outside the Greenhouse, with the words "MUDBLOODS! BEWARE THE HEIR OF SLYTHERIN!" burnt into the nearby grass. Over the next two months, three other Muggleborns were petrified, and all were found near graffiti that warned the rest of the Muggleborns to leave Hogwarts and never return. The graffiti also gave credit to the Heir of Slytherin, which had the dual effect of damaging the reputation of Slytherin House while rallying the Purebloods of the other three Houses around their own Muggle-born members.
Then, in March, Myrtle was found, not just petrified but dead. One day later, Tom Riddle confronted Hagrid in his room. The prefect had somehow discovered that Hagrid was raising a highly dangerous and highly illegal creature within the castle, and he'd assumed that whatever creature he'd been hiding in his room was the cause of the petrification. Hagrid helped Aragog get away, and then Tom turned him over to Headmaster Dippet, who was only too happy to summarily expel him and tell him he was lucky that at the age of thirteen even an "abomination" like him was too young for Azkaban.
Hermione and Neville gasped. "You mean to say that Tom Riddle, who'd been your friend for two years, ratted you out to that awful Dippet?" Hermione said angrily.
"Ah, don' go blamin' poor Tom, 'Ermione. Tweren't 'is fault."
"Hagrid, how was it not his fault?" asked Neville just as outraged.
"Well, it wuz like this. Tom knew I was raising a dangerous creature – which were true – but he didn't know what it was. And I wouldn't tell him, because wee Aragog was still a tiny thing ... no more than three or four feet across by then, I reckon. Tho' he's much bigger now." Hagrid perked up and smiled. "I should take you two to meet 'im sometime. You'd like 'im. He's got a luvly singin' voice."
Hermione and Neville just stared at him. He coughed in embarrassment.
"Anyways, once Tom found out it were an acromantula, he was powerful sorry, as 'e knew at once I were innocent. Acromantulas can't petrify nothin'. They just bites ya and poisons ya to death. Tom kept apologizin' and tryin' to tell Ole Dippet," Hagrid practically spat the name out, "but it was too late. Dippet had never wanted me at Hogwarts. Lots a people didn't. And even if I weren't the Heir o' Slytherin – and what a load a codswallop that woulda been – I'd still been raisin' an acromantula inside the castle under me very own bed. They're Class AAAAA dark creatures, ya know, an that woulda sent me to Azkaban if I'd been older. As it twere, I jes got me wand snapped and got expelled from Hogwarts. They never did find out who the Heir was or even if he or the Chamber of Secrets were real, The other four petrified students got de-petrified a few months later, and no one else got petrified at all. To some people that proved it were me, but I think it was one of them Slytherin Seventh Years and the reason it never happened 'gain was because he graduated. Personally, I'd always bet on old Abraxas Malfoy. Now there was a bad'un." Hagrid whistled. "Merlin, the way Tom used to rant about what a bigoted Pureblood ponce he were."
"So how did you end up back here if Headmaster Dippet was so against you?" Hermione asked.
"Why, Albus Dumbledore, a'course! Fine man, that Dumbledore. After he came back from fightin' Grindelwald, he coulda asked for the world. Turned down bein' Minister flat, he did! But he did ask that my criminal record be expunged and that I be given this job 'ere. The head gamekeeper had retired by then. I'd spent a few years at that point knockin' about Scandinavia tryin' to find me Mum, but I never did. I finally heard she'd died years before. So, I came back fer Dumbledore and have been here ever since. Ha! You should a seen Dippet's face when I moved inta this hut. The old prune! Ha!"
Some time later, Hermione and Neville were walking back to the castle discussing what they'd learned.
"So, someone opened the Chamber in 1943 and set the mysterious monster against Muggle-borns," said Hermione thoughtfully. "He – or she, I suppose – petrified four Muggle-borns and then killed one, before stopping completely." She considered what Hagrid had said. "Maybe it was a Seventh Year who stopped with the petrifications when the girl's death threatened to get the school closed down. Then, the Heir graduated and had no further access to the Monster."
"So what kind of Monster was it?" asked Neville. "What creatures can petrify people?"
"No idea," she answered. "I haven't started reading ahead for Care of Magical Creatures yet. In Greek mythology, a Gorgon could." She looked at her friend curiously. "Are Gorgon's real?"
"I think so, but they're very rare and I'm pretty sure you can only find them in Greece. I can't imagine how a student could have smuggled one into the school and kept it hidden for three months." Neville was thoughtful for a moment. "Next question. What was different about Myrtle that she was killed when the others were just petrified?"
"A very insightful question," said Hermione appreciatively. "Maybe we should ask her?"
"Huh?" he asked in confusion.
"Moaning Myrtle is the name of one of the Hogwarts Ghosts and one of the few who was a student here at the time of death. She was a Ravenclaw who died as a young teenager, sometime in the last century from the look of her. And she haunts the girls' lavatory right next to where Mrs. Norris was found."
Neville was silent for a few seconds. "I wish Harry or Blaise was here. They'd have something witty or clever to say right now about your startling revelation, but I'm just drawing a blank."
The Infirmary
"So, Poppy, how is he really?" asked Lily Potter. She, James and Jim had joined Snape and Madame Pomfrey to check on the status of the oldest twin.
"As far as I can tell, he'll be fine," the mediwitch said. "I'm keeping him tonight for observation because he had a concussion, and sometimes they cause symptoms that aren't immediately apparent. What damage there is appears to be limited to the temporal lobe, so tomorrow, I'll give him a neuromagical exam and see if he needs follow-up treatment at St. Mungo's. If not, I'll release him first thing in the morning."
Lily and James seemed to relax at the news, while Jim's expression was unchanged.
"Can we talk to him?" Lily asked.
"Not today. I've given him a sedative, and the potions to cure the concussion will keep him semi-conscious at best and slightly delirious. You'll have to come back tomorrow."
"Come on, Lily," said James softly. "There's nothing more to be done here." With one last glance back at Harry, Lily allowed James to escort her and Jim out of the infirmary. Snape watched the three Potters leave through narrowed eyes, while Pomfrey cast some monitoring spells on Harry and then returned to her office. Out in the hall, the Potters passed by Draco who was walking with a slight limp. The two male Potters each looked down their noses at him as they passed with a disdain that he happily returned. Then, he stepped into the infirmary just in time to see Snape addressing a house elf.
"Kusco, please go down to the Quidditch pitch and examine the two Bludgers used in today's match. Specifically, examine them for indications that a rogue house elf was responsible for their malfunction."
The elf actually hissed at the mention of rogue house elves with an anger that Draco hadn't thought possible for such creatures. And what in Merlin's name was a rogue house elf, anyway? Kusco popped away, and then Snape turned and noticed Draco's presence.
"Mr. Malfoy, what is your business here?"
"Professor Lockhart told me to get checked out by Madame Pomfrey in case he missed any small fractures. Sir, do you think a house elf was responsible for what happened with those Bludgers?"
With the practiced ease of a long-time double agent, Snape chose to bluster his way through the boy's question. "I do not make a habit of answering questions about conversations overheard by eavesdroppers, Mr. Malfoy," he sneered. "It is but one of many avenues we are investigating, albeit a highly unlikely one. Think no more of it." He turned back towards the office. "Madame Pomfrey, you have another injured student, though thankfully one who can walk under his own power."
The mediwitch came out and hustled Draco into a bed while Snape exited the infirmary with the boy's eyes following behind. Then, he relayed Lockhart's instructions, and she began casting diagnostic spells.
"Hmm. Professor Lockhart's spellwork was quite good, but he was wise to send you for a check-up. The spell he used was for aurors who need quick patches during field combat. As he said, though, it doesn't work for minor fractures or pulled muscles. Lie still for a moment and I'll be right back." She left and returned a moment later with a few foul-smelling potions for the boy. "This one will ensure that all your bones will heal completely. This one will repair muscles and eliminate any pain. Finally, this one will put you to sleep for a few hours so you're not awake for the effects of the first potion. It shouldn't be painful, but it might be extremely ... itchy."
Draco frowned but drank the potions as instructed. As he drifted off to sleep, his last conscious thoughts were about the disturbing implications of house elves trying to murder Harry Potter. Because he thought he knew one house elf in particular who might have been ordered to try.
Snape's Classroom
Half an hour after leaving the infirmary, Snape was back in his potions lab when Kuzco popped in to deliver his report.
"Kuzco has done as Perfesser Snapey asked. Examined both Bludgies."
"And did you detect the magic of a rogue house elf upon them?"
"No, Perfesser Snapey, sir."
Snape nodded. It had seemed like a promising avenue for investigation in light of past events, but it hadn't panned out. At least, not until Kuzco spoke again.
"Kuzco smelled the magic of two wicked elveses!"
Two?
The Infirmary
After a few hours of sleep, Draco was awoken by a loud crack. He jerked up in his hospital bed and looked around. The infirmary was dim – from the faint light flowing through the windows, it must be right at sunset. There was no sign of Madam Pomfrey, who had probably popped down to the Great Hall for a quick dinner since there were no life-threatening injuries in the ward. Then, Draco noticed a soft blubbering voice coming from the far side of the ward. Specifically, from behind the curtains surrounding Harry Potter's bed. Draco's concern for his teammate and rival turned to surprise when he recognized the voice.
"Harry Potter came back to school! Dobby warned and warned Harry Potter! Why didn't Harry Potter go home whom when he missed train?!"
"Thought that was you..." Draco heard Harry say in a groggy, barely-conscious voice. "Ostentatious 'n ineffectual. Lucky 'm doped up or be trying wring yer scrawny neck."
"Dobby is used to death threats, sir. Dobby gets them five times a day at home."
Draco winced. When he'd been little, he'd made a sport of tormenting Dobby by threatening the poor creature with outrageous punishments until his father had found out and been furious. Lucius and Narcissa had argued thunderously about that, with Narcissa laughing at Lucius's belief that house elves were anything more than slaves and playthings. For his part, Lucius angrily replied that no matter what "rights" Narcissa was guaranteed by their marriage contract, his son would not be raised "like the worst remnants of the degenerate House of Black!" That comment actually led to a rather violent duel between the two that ended inconclusively. Since then, Draco hadn't dared to threaten Dobby or any of the other house elves with violence. So who had been?
"Harry Potter must go home. Dobby thought his Bludger would be enough..."
"Ah, of course was you behind the crazy Bludger. Thas totally a thing Dobby would do." Then Harry giggled. "Were ya jes tryin' to kill me with ... smooth Bludger, or was the spiky doom one yer idea as well."
Draco carefully slid out of bed and crept towards the curtain in sock feet, grateful that Madam Pomfrey had made him take his Quidditch boots off before getting into bed.
"Not kill you sir! Never kill you! Dobby wants to save Harry Potter's life! Better sent home grievously injured than stay here, sir. Dobby only wanted Harry Potter hurt enough to be sent home. And now, Harry Potter must see the danger. For the spiky doom ball was not Dobby's. That was ... his idea."
"His who? I mean, who him?" asked Harry groggily. "Whatever. Most of the people who want to kill me are male, I think." The male pronoun was surprising to Draco as well. He thought he now knew who had been behind the various attacks on Harry's life, but his suspect was female.
"Dobby cannot speak his name. Dobby was forbidden." The elf sniffled and then wailed piteously. "Oh, if Harry Potter only knew. If he knew what he means to us. To the lowly, the enslaved, us dregs of the magical world. Dobby remembers how it was when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was at the height of his powers."
"If yer worried bout Moldy Shorts, you want m'brother Git. I mean Jim. No, Git works too. He's z'one ... who beat ... Moldy /snore/ Shorts."
"Jim Potter may be Boy-Who-Lived, Harry Potter. But you must understand and believe! Boy-Who-Lived might be the one to save us from bad wizardses. But ... it is Harry Potter who will decide the fate of all!"
Draco froze at that surprising announcement. Dobby froze as well and then slapped his hands over his mouth as if he'd betrayed a terrible secret. Then, there was a soft snore from the bed, and Dobby relaxed as he realized that Harry had fallen asleep before the house elf had finished speaking. Dobby exhaled in relief and was just about to disappear when Draco yanked the curtain aside. Dobby's face assumed a look of utter terror at his young master's appearance, and he raised his hands to snap his fingers.
"Stop," hissed Draco as softly as he could and still give the command. "I order you not to leave until I am done talking to you. Do you understand?"
Fearfully, Dobby nodded his head.
"Come with me," Draco said quietly but intently. He turned and headed towards the far side of the room, away from the sleeping Harry. Dobby obediently followed. When he'd gotten as far away from Harry's bed as the room would allow, Draco turned and addressed the elf.
"Do not speak until I tell you to. Just shake your head yes or no. You learned that Harry was in danger and have been trying to protect him?" Dobby nervously and reluctantly nodded yes.
"The first Bludger that attacked Harry today. Was that you?" Another affirmative nod.
"And the second? The one that was actually trying to kill him rather than just hurt him? Was that ... Mogli?" Dobby quivered and nodded yes. Then, he darted over to a nearby bed, grabbed a metal chamber pot, and hit himself squarely in the face with it. Draco closed his eyes and counted to ten. He used to consider self-punishment like this to be amusing ... when he was five. Now, it was slightly nauseating, in part because he knew the role his own childishness had played in instilling such behavior into the creature.
Draco took a deep breath. "Dobby, I order you, without leaving anything out or evading any question – and without punishing yourself – to tell me everything you know about my Mother's plans for Harry Potter."
The Hogwarts' Library
Cassius Warrington sat at a table by himself in the Library working on some rune sequences for Team Backdoor. He had a difficult assignment due in a few weeks, and he was starting to feel over his head in the class. It didn't help that he was still angry from his argument with Bletchley earlier that day. To be fair, he was annoyed in general by the mere existence of Halfblood Harry Potter, as well as by all those blood traitors in his house and especially on the Quidditch team who had embraced Potter despite his defiled heritage.
For just a second, Cassius felt a draft. Then, he was startled by a loud thump as his book bag fell off the table and onto the floor. Warrington looked around. He couldn't see how the bag might have fallen – he hadn't thought he'd left it so near the edge of the table. The Slytherin looked around the Library but saw no one nearby, so he rose, walked around the table and picked up his bag. Underneath, there was a sealed envelope lying on the floor which the bag had landed on. After looking around once more to see if anyone was watching, he picked the envelope up and turned it over.
TO: CASSIUS WARRINGTON
FROM: A FRIEND WHO'S ALSO SICK OF BLOOD TRAITORS
DON'T OPEN THIS WHERE YOU CAN BE SEEN
Intrigued but cautious, Warrington carried the envelope deep into the stacks before breaking the seal. Inside were several pages of notes about runes and portkeys. Warrington was surprised to realize that they were George Weasley's notes. He was even more surprised (and annoyed) to realize that the blood traitor was much farther along than he in their project. In fact, Weasley had nearly completed his part of the assignment almost two weeks ahead of schedule. For just a second, he wondered if this was a Weasley prank, but nothing bad had happened so far. The last piece of parchment was a letter written in a different hand and signed "A Friend." The first sentence warned him that the letter would self-destruct once read completely, so he should read everything carefully and attentively before he got to the last line.
Warrington read the note slowly and cautiously. And as the letter finally disappeared in a gout of green fire, he began to smile.
The Infirmary
Draco spent about twenty minutes interrogating Dobby about what the house elf knew. It was an exasperating conversation because the house elf was addled, incoherent, and had to be repeatedly ordered not to cry. Dobby had always been ... eccentric for as long as Draco had known him, but he seemed to have gotten much worse in recent months. Slowly but surely, Draco coaxed from him the revelation that Narcissa had sent Mogli to kill Harry Potter on at least three occasions. Mogli had led the doxy swarm to the home of Potter's Muggle guardians. Mogli had replaced Peter Pettigrew's birthday gift with Erasmus Wilkes's toy train. While the train had been directed to kill as many people as possible as misdirection, its true target was always Harry, who'd only survived by a stroke of luck. Finally, Mogli had sent the more dangerous of the two Bludgers after Harry at the Quidditch match earlier that day, the one that was meant to kill rather than injure. And Draco knew why.
It was because Draco himself had suggested to his mother that he would be more popular and successful at Hogwarts if a particular classmate were murdered.
The epiphany shocked Draco to his core. Eight months earlier, Harry had mocked him in the Prince's Lair as being a ridiculous child-tyrant who thought it would be funny to get Theo in trouble with his father for being friends with "undesirables." Truthfully, Draco had thought that the elder Nott might have taken away Theo's spending money and toys and grounded him for the Summer. Perhaps even some minor physical punishment. Instead, according to Harry, Tiberius Nott would most likely have tortured and killed his own son. And in response to that threat to one of his friends, Harry came at Draco with a crushing and overwhelming response, one that put the possibility of Draco's own murder at Harry's hands on the table until Harry – out of pity – accepted an Unbreakable Vow instead.
And then, like a spoiled child-tyrant he'd been accused of being, Draco ran crying to his mummy for help. Only now did Draco see how ridiculously, embarrassingly petty he'd been. How unworthy of both the House of Slytherin and the House of Malfoy. Harry Potter radiated power to any Slytherin with the perception to see it, perception that Draco evidently lacked completely. He should have been trying to build an alliance with Harry Potter from their first week at school. Instead, he repeatedly tried to bully his rival into submission with each effort blowing up in his face more disastrously than the last.
"It's no wonder why Father never mentioned the Prince of Slytherin to me," Draco thought, "let alone prepared me to seek the position for myself. I wonder how old I was when he realized I was so far under Mother's sway that I could never follow in his footsteps."
Draco shook of those thoughts. Time was growing short. "Dobby, you kept referring to 'him.' Do you mean Mogli?"
Dobby shivered violently. "Please be forgiving Dobby, young master. Dobby has been expressly forbidden to speak of ... him. Dobby would have to die before revealing his true name."
Draco frowned. "Okay, forget about ... him. What did you mean when you said Harry Potter would decide the fate of us all?"
The small creature made a face of anguish and began twisting his ears painfully. "Dobby knows but cannot explain how he knows. When Dobby first heard that Mistress sought to kill Potter child, Dobby did not know if she meant Harry Potter or Jim Potter. But Dobby knew it was wrong to kill either child. Dobby tried to stay a good elf, an obedient elf, young master, but the wrongness of what Mistress wanted tore at Dobby's heart. Finally, Dobby defied Mistress by trying to protect both Potters. Dobby stole their mail so they would feel like friends didn't care and maybe they not want to return to Hoggywarts and latter blocked the portal at the train station. But when Dobby did ..."
Dobby squeezed his eyes shut in pain. When he opened them again, Draco leaned back despite himself. There was a fierce and frightening intensity in the house elf's eyes that Draco had never seen there before. And when Dobby spoke, his voice slipped into a lower register much more unsettling than the plaintive timid voice he normally used. It reminded Draco of Mogli's voice.
"When Dobby defied Mistress, Dobby heard the Wild calling to him. Dobby did not want to listen, but Dobby cannot not listen now. Through the Wild, Dobby knew that Harry Potter was the one who must be protected. Fate and Magic have marked him. Destiny stalks him. He must survive until the moment he ... decides."
"Decides what?" asked Draco timidly.
"... Everything." At that, Dobby stiffened and looked around, his eerie mood replaced by his normal frightened demeanor. "Dobby has spoken too much of the Wild. Others have heard and draw near. Dobby must go now, young master. Please give Dobby permission!"
Draco grimaced and then spoke quickly. "Dobby, if you learn anything more of Mother's plans, I order you to come to me secretly and tell me. Do the same if Mogli disappears from the Manor for any length of time. Above all, take no further action to protect Harry Potter." Then, Draco bit his lip as he made what he feared might be a life-changing decision. "I will protect Harry Potter from Mother. I promise. Now go."
Dobby nodded and then disappeared with a crack. Draco barely had a second to get his thoughts together before there was another, much louder crack, and three house elves in Hogwarts livery were standing before him. They all looked around intently, and to Draco's surprise, they all looked as disturbingly angry as Kuzco had been earlier when Snape had talked to him about rogue elves. In fact, Draco thought they looked ready to pounce. Then, after a few seconds, all three turned towards him and smiled, their angry vigilance vanishing from their faces as if it had never been there.
"Begging young master's pardon, but by any chance has young master seen another house elf just now? One not of Hogwarts? Perhaps one who seemed ... odd?" From the pitch of the elf's voice, Draco assumed it was female, although there was little sign of gender.
"No," said Draco shakily. "No, I haven't."
The elf who spoke narrowed her eyes at Draco in a more calculating manner than the boy had ever seen on a house elf's face. Then, she smiled once more.
"We's is sorry to have disturbed the young master. We's be going now." And just like that, the three elves vanished with a loud crack.
Draco barely had time for his breathing to slow when he heard yet another voice.
"Hello?" called out a still-weakened Harry Potter from across the infirmary. "Is somebody there?"
Draco sighed and made his way over to the other boy's bed. "It's just me, Potter."
"Oh, hey. Sorry. Still a bit woozy. Who were you talking to?"
Draco looked around. "No one. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got hit in the head by a Bludger and then given enough potions to drug a hippo."
"Well, what's the last thing you remember?" Draco said lightly, concealing his fear that Potter remembered Dobby's rantings. The other boy already seemed to know who Dobby was, but Draco thought it best if Harry didn't know any weird house elf prophecies about himself.
"Um. I think I remember you saying you caught the Snitch. Good job... unless I just dreamed that part, in which case better luck next time." He smiled, but Draco noticed that Harry's eyes were still a bit unfocused.
"Not a dream, Potter. While you were napping, I was out winning the game for us."
"Heh. Just so long as one of us was on the case. Tell me what happened. I was kinda distracted."
Draco gave a brief summary of the Seeker's duel between himself and Jim Potter. He acknowledged that all of Harry's observations about how to get inside of his brother's head paid off. At the end, he revealed with a certain degree of embarrassment that he'd won by using the Suicide Slam maneuver.
Harry laughed and then winced in pain. "Wow. A Suicide Slam. That's a Gryffindor move, isn't it?"
Draco snorted disdainfully. "Gryffindors don't have a monopoly on boldness if that's what's needed to win. Besides, with that spectacle you were making, I doubt anyone even noticed me until I actually caught the Snitch." Draco glanced at the clock on the wall. "Anyway, I need to hurry if I'm not going to miss dinner completely. And you need rest if you're going to stop your inane babbling. You kept calling me Drake out on the pitch, presumably because you couldn't handle words of more than one syllable. I'll be lucky if Pucey and Bletchley don't make that my official team nickname now or some such rubbish."
"They should," mumbled Harry, his eyes already closing again. "It's a cool name."
"My name," the boy sniffed, "is Draco." Harry appeared to have fallen asleep again, so Draco turned and left. He'd gotten about three feet when Harry spoke once more, his words clear despite his sleepy mumble.
"Draco Malfoy's a pompous Pureblood mama's boy whose mouth outstrips his talent." Draco stiffened and whirled back towards Harry with a furious expression, but the other boy continued before he could respond.
"Drake Malfoy is a man of action who lets nothing stand in his way and who'll risk life and limb if that's what it takes to win. You get to choose who you become just like the rest of us."
Draco simply stood there for a few seconds, trying to come up with a meaningful response. Before he could, he noticed that Harry was snoring again. Draco sighed and left the Infirmary, his thoughts churning and conflicted.
Gryffindor Tower
8 November 1992 (Sunday Morning at 7:00 a.m.)
The sun had not yet poked its head over the horizon when Jim, Ron and the other Second Year boys of Gryffindor Tower were rousted from bed by the male prefects. The boys were all instructed to pull the drawers to their night stands open and to unlock and open up their trunks for inspection before heading downstairs to wait in the Common Room. The Headmaster had given the school a week to return Jim Potter's invisibility cloak, and today marked the eighth day. The younger Muggle-born students were quite shocked at the casual invasion of their privacy, and while the rest were taking it more in stride, quite a few Lions were casting evil looks towards Jim Potter on whose behalf the search was being performed. All of the Gryffindors were annoyed that the Great Dungeon Bat, Severus Snape himself, was overseeing the search of the male dorms. They were somewhat mollified by the fact that he was to be accompanied by Professor Flitwick and by James Lord Potter, who was personally on-hand to make sure that Snape didn't abuse this opportunity to search for contraband other than Jim's missing cloak ... or perhaps even plant contraband. Gryffindor paranoia ran high when Snape was involved.
The plan was to start at the top of the tower with the Seventh Year dorms and work down. The theory, which even McGonagall admitted was plausible, was that it was more likely for another Gryffindor to have taken the cloak than for an outsider to have acquired the Gryffindors' password. Likewise, an older Gryffindor might have had a non-larcenous reason for taking the cloak, such as to keep Jim Potter from using it to ruin Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup through reckless point loss as had seemed to be his goal since his first day at Hogwarts. While Snape, Lord Potter, and Flitwick were searching the boys' rooms, the Gryffindor girls' dorms would be searched by McGongall, Lily Potter, and Professor Vector. If the cloak wasn't found here, they would move on to the other dorms.
While the search was taking place, nearly all of the Lions were waiting irritably in the Common Room, many of them falling back to sleep in overstuffed chairs or on couches. The Weasley Twins had actually each brought a pillow and blanket down with them and were lying comfortably on the floor in front of the fireplace, near where Ron was quietly working on a Charms essay. Percy sidled up to them with his usual disapproving look.
"Just to reassure myself – you two aren't dense enough to have left any of your usual nonsense lying around for Professor Snape to find, are you?"
"Nah, Perfect Prefect Percy," said Fred sleepily. "Nothing illegal in the dorms. We have a secret stash for all the stuff that might get us expelled." Percy gave a long-suffering sigh.
"Hang on a minute!" interjected Lee Jordan. "They're just looking for Potter's cloak, aren't they? I figured they'd just walk into a room, say 'Accio Potter's Cloak' and be done with it."
"The Potter Cloak," said Percy, "among its other illicit benefits, is apparently immune to the standard Summoning Charm. Which means the professors will have to physically search each room." Then, he noticed Lee's suddenly nervous expression. "Why? What sort of contraband do you have if the Twins are, to my amazement, clean for once?"
"... nothing," Lee said in a guilty voice.
George chuckled. "Relax, Lee. They're on the hunt for a priceless magical artifact that, for some reason, they let a Second Year run around with. Snape doesn't care about those skin mags you keep hidden under your mattress."
"Guys, shut up!" hissed Lee, while Percy clucked his tongue disdainfully.
A few feet away, Jim, who had been eavesdropping, stiffened slightly in his chair as Percy explained how the searches were to be performed. He knew the school-wide search was set for today, but he hadn't realized it would be so ... thorough. Across the room, Luna's posture stiffened as well, and then she reached over and tugged on the sleeve of Hermione's robe.
"The big fat wrackspurt in Jim's tummy has started quivering and rubbing its hind legs together," she whispered. "And his nargles just turned purple and got all flittery."
"Right," said Hermione softly. "We've talked about this, dear. Skip past the physical descriptions and just tell me your conclusions."
Luna nodded. "I think he just overheard something that made him very nervous and quite a bit frightened. And it has something to do with whatever's been making him act so ... not-Jim for the past few months."
Before Hermione could ask anything more, the assembled Gryffindors were distracted by loud shouting from up the stairs leading to the boys' dorms.
"Ah, here we go," said George amiably. "Lord Potter and Professor Snape have finally started arguing and are probably about to hex one another. I wish we'd had time to set up a betting pool."
All the jokes ceased, however, when Snape stormed down the stairs in a fury and headed towards Jim Potter, with the boy's father close behind. Somewhat surprisingly, the younger Potter wasn't even looking at Snape's angry face. Instead, all of his attention was focused on the small red book in Shape's hand, a detail noticed only by Luna Lovegood who suddenly grasped Hermione's arm very tightly.
"Where did you get this book, Potter?!" Snape practically growled.
"That's ... I ... that's none of your concern! It's got nothing to do with my cloak!" he blustered.
Around the room, several of the Gryffindors were stunned at how disrespectful Jim was. Despite himself, the boy looked defiantly up into the Potions Master's eyes. Suddenly, Jim flashed back to a memory of studying from the book just the previous night. Surprised and pleased to realize that he could now sense Snape's Legilimency intrusion, Jim reflexively focused on his hatred for the man and imagined that memory on fire. Instantly, Snape broke contact and stepped back in shock. However, Jim's satisfaction at repelling the intruder was quickly overtaken by the realization that he'd effectively just confessed to having studied from the forbidden book.
By that point, Lily Potter had come down the stairs from the girls dorms. "What's going on? What's with all the shouting?"
James ignored her to focus on Snape. "Did ... did you just legilimize my son?!" he asked with disbelief and outrage.
Snape turned back to face the Potters. "We will continue this discussion in the Headmaster's Office. Now." With that, he turned and strode towards the Common Room door. But James Potter wasn't finished yet.
"The hell we will, Snivellus! You just used Leglimency on the son of an Ancient and Noble House! I'll have your job for this!"
A few students gasped at James's use of that name, and McGonagall's wand hand twitched due to her anger. Across the room, Hermione simply furrowed her brow as certain connections came together in her head. Otherwise, the room became deathly silent as Snape suddenly halted, froze for a few seconds, and then slowly turned back to face his old rival. When he did, James suddenly became uneasy. He'd expected Snape's face to show either sneering contempt or spitting anger. But instead, Snape actually smiled at him, and his eyes practically danced as if he felt ... victorious?
"Very well, Lord Potter. I had hoped to spare your illustrious House further public embarrassment, but if you insist." He threw the book to the former Quidditch star who caught it easily. "Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide, whose author identifies himself only as Mr. Nemo."
James, who had started flipping through the small book, looked up suddenly and then over at his abashed son.
"Jim!" exclaimed Lily. "You know we said you weren't ready for Occlumency training!"
"Son," said James, "going behind our back is no way to prove that you're mature enough for something like this. I'm very disappointed in you."
Snape barked out a laugh, startling everyone in the room, most of whom thought the man incapable of such expression. "As usual, Potter, you make everything about your own puerile feelings and miss what's important! 'Nemo' is the Latin word for 'nobody!' An appropriate pseudonym, don't you agree, for the man you probably know better as Augustus Rookwood!"
James's face went ashen, while several of the older students suddenly looked over at Jim in shock.
"Yes," Snape continued relentlessly. "That Augustus Rookwood! The former Unspeakable who now rots in Azkbaban having betrayed his most sacred oaths in exchange for a place as one of the Dark Lord's most trusted lieutenants!" Snape actually laughed again at the look on James's horrified expression which matched that of his son. "Your precious offspring, the world-renowned Boy-Who-Lived, has been teaching himself Occlumency out of a Death Eater training manual!"
James was speechless for several seconds before he was finally able to address his son. "Jim... is ... is this ... true?!"
Jim Potter blinked several times and licked his lips. "I want to talk to my lawyer."
HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL MY LOYAL READERS!
The next chapter will be posted on Friday, January 8, 2016. "Meet Peter Pettigrew," in which Jim's lovable uncle comes to Hogwarts to counsel his wayward godson, annoy Severus Snape, and make Harry Potter an offer he may not be able to refuse.
AN 1: This is not the start of Drarry. This is not even the start of Draco and Harry being friends. This is, perhaps, the start of Draco and Harry being ... frenemies.
AN 2: Before people flip out about "oh God, another prophecy about Harry," what Dobby said wasn't a new prophecy. Rather, it reflects Dobby's skewed comprehension of Harry's possible role in the Cassandra Trelawney prophecy from the 18th century, the one that hasn't been revealed in its entirety yet. It's something Dobby is only peripherally aware of and can't fully understand because, well, he's not quite wild enough, and hopefully never will be because you don't come back from that. The important bit here is that Draco knows something weirdly prophetic about Harry and is trying to figure out how to leverage it without running afoul of house elves (about which he is now likely quite paranoid - and with good reason:)).