A/N: I have corrected the inevitable spelling error. It seems that at least one hides until after I've posted the chapter before making itself obvious. I've decided to blame all future misspellinggs on Computer Gremlins. They arre notoriius fur cuasing thees thinsg.
Mandraco did note that Draco got a detention because he had to. That is one of the problems with writing an alternate history and you have a convergence in the plot (Something happens in this story that also happened in the original). Sometimes it becomes obvious what you are doing and why. At least I did manage, I think, to give a good reason for the detention.
My thanks to all of the reviewers for letting me know how much they liked Pettigrew and the ambiguity about his background.
Chapter 6: Halloween
Draco told Hermione about the chilling voice he had heard during his detention with Professor Pettigrew. Her response was to give him a sullen look. She said they should talk about it later. Her attitude convinced Draco not to mention it to anyone else.
The following Friday, when they were gathered after classes at Hagrid's hut, Draco decided to bring up the subject again. Hagrid's remark was that it wasn't a natural thing to hear voices. Justin suggested that it might be related to the face he saw. That remark caused Hagrid to give Draco a concerned look. Hermione pointed out that both things were normally considered a sign of a mental breakdown, and counseled Draco not to say anything outside of the group. She added for his benefit that considering the unusual event at King's Cross Station, there might be a logical explanation. They were dealing with magic, and Voldemort did show himself only three months before.
Draco gave a wry laugh. Either he was going crazy or there was great evil afoot. Justin's laugh had more humour in it when he said it could be both. Who knew what went on in the minds of dragons. He added helpfully that they should wait and see what happened next, for no other reason than that they had nothing else to do.
The conversation turned to other things. Hagrid laughed as the students described their experiences with repotting mandrake roots. A sullen Draco said that it was a plant and it should not have bitten him.
Hermione had to tell everyone how Quidditch practice was going. She didn't want to but Hagrid insisted. Oliver Wood was planning on keeping the same team as last year, including her. They would have tryouts for anyone who wanted to join, but Wood already made it clear, particularly to Potter, he was looking for backup. Hermione said that Potter took it graciously. While he would want to be on the team, he was willing to live with being able to practice with them. What Hermione did not say, but everyone knew, was that Potter hoped that Hermione's luck would fail and he could have his old position back.
Draco did mention that he still had his special classes with Professor Snape, although they contained as much conversation as they did lessons. Professor Snape liked the fact that Draco knew enough about magic to be interested in the theory behind the practice. Draco wouldn't have phrased it that way. He was always interested in why things worked as much as how they worked. All in all, he was going to have an interesting year.
When tryouts came, Draco was at the pitch with a Cleansweep Seven that "Uncle Severus" had lent him. He tried his best for one of the chaser positions and thought he did rather well. Longbottom and Potter where also there and made it a point to show how poorly he flew. Both did well enough to be told they would be considered as backup. Draco couldn't help but notice that Longbottom seemed the more pleased of the two.
As they walked back to the school after the practice, a tired Hermione still had the strength to point out to Draco that he needed to improve his turning skills. He flew well enough but he couldn't even be considered until he learned how to make sharper turns. Draco thanked her. When she asked why he was smiling, he told her that last year she was always too nervous to talk about flying. Now that she was a seasoned veteran, she was giving pointers to the newbies. Hermione blushed lightly. She told both him and Justin that her confidence came from the good friends who always stood behind her.
And that was that. For the next few weeks, nothing unusual happened. Colin Creevey, now convinced that Draco was dangerous to be around, tried to avoid him lest he be forced to chaperone him again. But he also proved to be a shutterbug and asked Draco, when plenty of people were around, if he could take the older boy's picture. Draco was not surprised. Colin was making a photographic record of the entire school. Then Colin asked him a favour. He had taken group pictures of all the Quidditch teams, except Slytherin. They always snarled at him whenever he came near. Draco mentioned it to Professor Snape, who scowled at the idea. But the following weekend, Draco noticed an ecstatic Colin Creevey returning from the Quidditch pitch. He told Draco he was sending a complete set of pictures to his family.
When Draco asked what Colin's plans were for the future, the boy admitted that he was going to complete his collection of portraits of all the teachers. (Dumbledore had already posed for him.) Then he was going to try to photograph all of the ghosts. When Draco asked if that included Peeves, Colin remembered something important he had to do and quickly left.
One other thing occurred. Draco found himself in the library with Crabbe and Goyle. Both had been admonished about copying other student's homework and had to do eight inches on the History of Magic. That was Eight Inches Each, Crabbe explained. Goyle pointed out that it couldn't even be about the same thing. Draco asked them what they liked. Both said Quidditch and food. Three days later, both boys handed in their papers. Gregory had written ten inches on the grossest violations in Quidditch games throughout history. Vince managed nine inches on how tastes in desserts had changed over the past five hundred years. He also gained five pounds by insisting he had to try all of the desserts so he would know what he was talking about.
For a while, Draco did try to think about Dobby but the questions always begged for answers. Least of all was the question of what type of creature Dobby was. More important to Draco, and also without answers, was the question of why Dobby had blocked the entrance to the Platform, and why he helped Draco to listen in on the conversation between Black and Pettigrew. Draco hoped and feared that the creature might show up again. But, as nothing happened, these questions, too, faded away.
Halloween came. Draco was looking forward to the feast. But Hermione had a different plan, and not a pleasant one. Sir Nicholas, the Gryffindor House Ghost had asked her to come to his party. He was having a deathday party, to celebrate the 400th anniversary of his death. He asked Hermione to come. Draco asked why. Hermione demurred. She owed him a favour. She mumbled something about Filch and rain. Draco remembered her telling him one weekend when it was raining that Filch tried to give her detention for coming back from Quidditch and soaking the floors or something. She had said she had a narrow escape. He didn't pry, but only asked if Sir Nicholas was responsible for the escape. Hermione nodded.
Sir Nicholas, or Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington to give his full name, was also known as Nearly Headless Nick. It seemed that he was the victim of a botched beheading. His head was still attached to his neck on one side. His favorite habits were to tip his head when greeting students, and to bemoan the fact that he has been perennially denied membership in the Headless Hunt, a group of ghosts who met their demises by more competent executioners.
Draco offered to go with her. Hermione was polite but let it be known that his presence would not be appreciated. Draco did not know if he should be insulted or relieved. Either way, it was still a reminder that while he had defeated the Dark Lord, he was still looked upon by many as an alternative evil. Most people were polite to him, just in case, but there were still few he could call his friends.
Fred and George were more than happy to take Draco to the Great Hall for the Halloween Feast. It gave them a chance to find out what Hermione was up to. It also explained why Colin Creevey was standing next to Hermione while looking like he was talking to Draco. The first year was taking his camera with him to take pictures of the feast. (Colin, after developing the pictures, would become Sir Nicholas's favorite Gryffindor.) The twins ushered Draco to the Gryffindor table and plopped him down next to Lee Jordan. Lee was a tall black boy, almost as tall as the Weasleys, long dreadlocks, and a voice he could project with skill. He could always be heard by whomever he was talking to, even in a room as crowded and noisy as the Great Hall. (It was the reason he always announced the Quidditch matches.)
And it was a grand feast. Draco had his first candy apple, as well as several things he had never tried before. The exception was the bowl of peppermint imps. One of the imps bit him when he tried to pick it up. Things are always biting me, Draco thought. Determined to be sick for a week, Draco was eating his fourth piece of pie, this one was key lime, when he heard it. The voice was barely audible, as though someone in the hall, not too close by, was shouting. And it was coming from beneath him.
"Rip . . .Tear . . .Kill . . ."
"Did you hear that?"
"What?" It was Lee who asked.
"That voice," Draco insisted as he stood up, straining to hear the faint echoing voice.
Everyone around Draco became quiet, staring at him because of his sudden outburst. As a result, he heard the voice more clearly when it spoke again.
"Kill . . . Time to kill . . ."
"Kill. It said it's time to kill."
Instinctively, Draco ran out of the Great Hall. All he could think about was finding the source of the voice and stopping it. He ran up to the marble staircase and stopped. He heard the voice more clearly, but it was growing fainter, as though it was moving away. It was above him, perhaps one floor, no more than two.
"I smell blood . . . I SMELL BLOOD."
"BLOOD," Draco repeated, not knowing if anyone heard him. He pulled out his wand and ran up to the first floor, then to the second floor. Racing down one corridor to the next, looking for a sign of . . . anything. He ran down one hall and lost his footing when he stepped in a puddle of water. He threw his arms in front of him to break his fall, and his wand went flying. Picking himself up, he went for his wand. He stopped suddenly as he saw what was also there.
Mrs. Norris.
She was hanging, stiff and unmoving, from one of the wall sconces. In surprise, Draco stepped back and saw what was on the wall between two windows. Words written in red.
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Fear gripped Draco. Suddenly, he understood his folly. His reaction to the surprise of hearing the voice was the worst thing he could do. Everyone had seen him run out and, even if he fled the scene, many would assume he was the heir, regardless of what he was heir to. A dead cat and writing made to look like blood would convict him more surely than anything.
A camera flashed. Draco looked over and saw Colin standing there with Hermione. He was grinning as usual but his grin faded as he found out what it was he had taken a picture of. Behind Hermione and Colin were Fred and George. And others were following.
"What is all this?" a gruff voice said as Argus Filch came storming forward. He paused to glare at Hermione then walked over to Draco. He was halfway there when he spotted Mrs. Norris. "My cat?" He turned to Draco, anger burning in his eyes. "YOU KILLED MY CAT." He grabbed Draco and shook him before the boy could react. "I'll kill you for that. I'll . . ."
"ARGUS!"
Dumbledore's voice boomed as he arrived on the scene. And the voice had the desired effect. Filch regained his composure. He still had Draco in a painful grip, but he was enough in control of himself to not do more than hold the boy in place.
"Headmaster, look what he did. LOOK what he did to my cat."
Filch paused as he saw Dumbledore's eyes look upward. Draco knew what the man was looking at. Most of the now sizeable crowd were reading the words as well. Looking at the crowd, most of those who were looking back were either angry or afraid or both.
Dumbledore walked forward until he was face to face with Mrs. Norris. As he examined the cat he suggested, in a low voice, that Filch let go of Draco as he was obviously hurting the boy. He added that Draco was not going to run away. As Draco rubbed his sore arm, Dumbledore examined the cat more closely.
"Argus," he said in a voice loud enough for most everyone to hear, "your cat is not dead. It has been petrified."
"He did it," Filch said with certainty. "I know he did."
"Headmaster." It was Professor Snape. He had walked up with Professors McGonagall and Pettigrew without Draco noticing it. "Did you say the cat was petrified? How?"
"I don't know Severus. But we should take care of something else first." Dumbledore turned to the students and suggested they all return to their dorms; their heads of house would be informed of anything that was discovered. He made four exceptions, beside Draco. The Weasley Twins, Hermione and Colin were asked to stay. The teachers and the five students waited as the crowd dispersed. Dumbledore then asked Colin if he had taken a picture. Colin told him he did. Dumbledore insisted that he be given a print at Colin's earliest convenience. He then dismissed him and Hermione. When Hermione objected, Dumbledore assured her that Draco would undoubtedly tell her everything.
Dumbledore then questioned the Weasleys. Everyone in the hall had seen Draco stand up and run out, but the Twins would have heard what Draco said. Fred and George repeated everything word for word. They had followed Draco out of the hall in time to hear him shout the word, 'blood'.
McGonagall made tsking noises every now and then, while Filch continued to mutter under his breath. Dumbledore listened to everything the Weasleys had to say and then turned to Draco. He asked no question.
"Sir. I din't do none of it."
"And should I believe you?"
Pettigrew cleared his throat. "Headmaster," he said in a shaky voice. "Forgive me for interrupting but he is telling the truth."
Dumbledore eyed Pettigrew carefully. "And how can you know that?"
Pettigrew waved his hand. "He may have had plenty of time to petrify Mister Filch's cat, but not to write all of this. Unless he has mastered fifth level spells already." He looked at Snape.
"He knows some third level spells," Snape admitted, giving Pettigrew an appreciative look. "And I've taught him the basics of some of the fourth level spells. Unless he had some hidden talent, creating the writing, much less what happened to the cat, is beyond his skill. We can test his wand for proof."
"Your wand," Dumbledore asked as he held out his hand.
"It's . . . " Draco said as he felt his pocket. He turned his head as he remembered that he had never picked his wand up.
"It's over here," Pettigrew said as he walked down the hallway a few feet. "I assume you dropped it in surprise," he noted as he picked up the wand.
"I fell, slipped on the water. Bathroom must have flooded or something."
Pettigrew handed the wand to Dumbledore, who performed the revealing spell. It showed the last spell, a retrieval charm. Draco explained that they were practicing in Professor Flitwick's class. Dumbledore handed the wand to Draco and told him to put it away. He turned to Professor Snape.
"I will leave it to you, Severus, to prepare the restorative potion."
"I will try," Snape answered, "but I fear I may be short on some of the ingredients." He excused himself, pausing to give Draco a sad look before he turned and left.
Dumbledore turned to the twins. "I suppose I should thank you for your honesty, and I apologize for keeping you here. You may go. And please don't exaggerate things too much when you tell your housemates what we discussed."
"Not to much," Fred admitted with a grin. George flashed an identical smile and said, "C'mon, Dragon. The fun's over."
Dumbledore held up his hand. "Draco won't be going back to Gryffindor tonight. I think it might be best that he go to the infirmary. Peter, will you do the honours? Ask Madam Pomfrey to give him as thorough an examination as possible."
Fred and George walked off in one direction. Pettigrew led Draco in the opposite direction. Draco looked back before they turned a corner and saw Dumbledore helping Filch remove his cat from the sconce.
"I'm not hurt," Draco said once he and Pettigrew were alone.
"Not physically," Pettigrew admitted.
"I ain't nutters," came the angry reply.
"Draco. Please don't be upset." Pettigrew laughed. "I'm sorry. After what happened, I doubt even I could not follow that advice. But do try to understand. You claim you saw a face floating outside the window when you were on a moving train. You later claimed in my office that you heard voices. You made that same claim today. But according to the Weasley Twins, you said it was time to kill, then ran out of the Great Hall. Alone. They followed you outside and heard you cry 'blood' and run off up the stairs. And we found you staring at Argus Filch's cat. That does not bode well."
Draco hung his head. "You make it sound as though I'm radio rental, a'right."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh, um, mental. You make me sound mental."
"That wasn't my intention. But I think the headmaster wants to be sure there is no physical cause for you to be hearing or seeing things. And after tonight, few people will think you're, er, mental because of that."
Pettigrew opened the door to the infirmary and ushered Draco inside. Madam Pomfrey was waiting for him. She directed Draco to his usual bed. It was his first overnight stay this year.
"You're healthy," Madam Pomfrey told Draco when he awoke the next morning. "And you are free to go as soon as I can get someone to escort you." She smiled at the boy as she sat down next to his bed. "Is there anything you care to tell me?"
"Didn't anyone say anything?"
"The headmaster came by after you were asleep. He told me everything that he knew. I thought you might like to add to it. In the past, you've always kept a few things to yourself."
Draco shrugged as he worked himself into a sitting position. "Didn't think to, this time. You probably know more than I do." He paused as concern filled his face. "Did you tell the Minister?"
"Dumbledore will do that. Draco, you do understand how serious a matter this is? After what happened last year, everyone will assume the Dark Lord is behind this. Your behavior is going to provoke certain rumours. Can you guess what these will be?"
"I'm the heir?"
"An obvious one. I'm sure that idea is already being discussed. A more serious one that will occur is that when You-Know-Who fled Professor Quirrell's body he inhabited another one."
"Mine? But wouldn't I know about it?"
"Of course, you would. But would you admit it? Or, in a nicer version, could you? Dumbledore told me that at least one member of the staff has suggested either possibility. Others are sure to think along the same lines."
Draco sighed as he stared at the ceiling. How could he deal with this? Such a rumour had a built-in explanation for him denying it. "I'm doomed. Everyone will hate me now."
"I think they may be more honest about their feelings toward you. I don't believe many people will change their opinions."
Draco looked curiously at Madam Pomfrey. What she said was astute, although Draco would not have used that word. It could help him in the long run. He had his friends, and there were people who would talk to him. His friends he could trust, but the others? It was a chance to separate the merely curious from the potential allies. He frowned at the thought: Allies for what? He knew himself well enough to understand that his mind, his subconscious, was working on a plan. He even thought he knew what it was. But? He suddenly knew. It was there all along. He hated Voldemort. He wanted his revenge. But he couldn't do it by himself.
"What are you thinking?" Madam Pomfrey asked after his silence had continued for too long.
Draco smiled. "I think I know how to take advantage of this."
"Of everyone being afraid of you?"
Draco nodded. "Professor Snape told me last year. Show them why they should be afraid."
Madam Pomfrey groaned. "What are you planning to do?"
"Don't know yet. I'm thinking of telling people I'm going to find the heir. Those that think it's me, it'll confuse them. But others may think I'm fighting the Dark Lord . . . I could end up with a few more friends out of this . . . if I don't mess up."
"Draco, don't forget. Someone has tried to kill you. If you do 'mess up', that person may have company."
Draco shrugged his shoulders again. "Don't have a choice. Not really. The only other thing I can do is nothing."
This time Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Draco Malfoy, twelve years old and going on forty. Be careful of what you do. It could come back to haunt you."
It was Justin who showed up, shortly after morning classes ended. He was smiling. He was also nervous.
"We had a house meeting about you again," the Hufflepuff told his friend. "Remember I told you that we decided to take a wait and see attitude?"
"Let me guess. They decided they've seen enough."
"Close. Some said that. Some are saying we don't know enough. And . . ." Justin cleared his throat. ". . . A lot are saying something happened to you last year. You might be, um, not yourself."
Draco stared at his friend. "I'm not crazy."
"I agree," Justin said hastily. "But everyone knows that you've been hearing voices. I didn't say anything about you seeing things, like that face. I just wanted you to know. If we're thinking these things, so are the other houses." His face became stern. "Don't forget. There are plenty of students who don't like you. They're sure to spread the worst rumours about you."
Draco shook his head. It seemed as though whatever he did would only make matters worse. But he had to do something. "Care to go to the Great Hall? I'm starved."
Justin laughed, in relief it seemed. He agreed with his mate that getting something to eat was a wonderful idea. On the way, Draco admitted he was curious what Potter would be saying. If anyone in Gryffindor would paint him in a bad light, he was the obvious choice.
As they neared the Great Hall, Draco set his plan in motion. He said the sentence he had prepared in his head. "I'm going to find him, Justin, this heir, and when I do I'm going to make him pay."
Looking past Justin, Draco 'failed to notice' two Slytherins look at him. He also didn't notice a first year from Ravenclaw and another one from Gryffindor, the Weasley girl. They all looked surprised. Except for the Ravenclaw. She looked amused.
"What was that?" Justin asked in a whisper.
"I mean it," Draco said in a low voice as well. "I'm going to find out who it is."
Justin smiled. "Rumours are already saying you're mental. I hope they're right. I'm in."
Once in the Hall, the two parted. As Justin went to his table, Draco looked for Hermione. He had a great deal to explain. He sat down next to her and said hello. She turned her head and smiled.
"You know what I like best about you, Draco? Whenever I have a bad day, you always make sure you have a worse one, and all to make me feel better."
"Thanks, Hermione. That makes me feel better."
"This will. Seamus Finnigan from Hufflepuff says that if you really did kill Filch's cat then it proves you're not evil."