A/N
Regretfully, this chapter turned out to be far longer than expected. Because of this you'll see Luna in the next chapter only, not today.
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To be a Pawn
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Malfoy Manor
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Two weeks, the snake-like voice hissed. You have two weeks to make your decision, young Malfoy, whether you want accept this honorific task or you die as a blood-traitor. Choose wisely.
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Was it really a choice when the only alternative was his death? Draco Malfoy wasn't able to deceive himself: either he accepted the 'chance' or not. Either he got branded like cattle, got the Dark Mark and made his political choice official. Or he declined, settled for the fall of House Malfoy and accepted the repercussions.
Repercussion was a nice word for damning his father to Azkaban, his mother to torture and rape and himself to a very painful death. The Dark Lord had promised to free those Death Eaters from Azkaban who had been imprisoned after the Ministry debacle. If he declined this task, his father would accidentally be 'forgotten'. His mother would pay for the sins of her husband and son, with even her own sister unwilling to step in and protect her.
Bella is crazy, absolutely crazy, Draco thought. How can I be related to her?
The Dark Lord had already used more than one Crucio on Narcissa Malfoy, simply to make a statement and show Draco how serious he was about the whole matter. Draco was not stupid: until now the Dark Lord had been comparatively patient. He only spared Draco's life so far because he was the Scion of House Malfoy and insofar valuable to his cause, if only as a money cow. As soon as he realized that Draco wouldn't join his ranks, his patience would run out.
How could I kill the Headmaster? How could I kill anybody?
He feared Dumbledore, and rightly so. A man feared, or at least respected, by the Dark Lord himself was nobody a teenager wanted to mess with. Despite all insults tossed towards Scarhead and Beavertooth, Draco knew that he had neither Potter's raw talent and power nor the intellect and knowledge of Granger. Even those two wouldn't stand a chance against Dumbledore, so how could he? And even if he could, Draco didn't want to kill him. He didn't want to kill anybody. His eagerness to insult others aside, his willingness to proof the pureblood superiority and his wish to see Potter and his little friends fall: there was a line he wasn't willing to cross. It was one thing to enlarge Granger's teeth with a curse or make Weasel vomit slugs. It was something completely different to maim and to kill.
He wants me to die. Draco sobbed. He wants to put me against Dumbledore and have me die to punish my father.
And the worst? His plan would work. His father would regret the death of his son. Perhaps he would grief – for a while. But in the end he would accept the story of his son failing – again – and dying in the attempt. We would return to his master's side and continue working for him.
He'll forget me. He'll write me off as a failure and go on with his life.
Contrary to his mother, Lucius Malfoy never saw him as his son first. He was always only the Scion of House Malfoy, the successor he had to train and shape to bring honour to his house. There was never praise, only scolding if he dared to fail, even being second to Granger in any subject was seen as an embarrassing failure in his father's eyes.
Mother, Draco thought. She's different. She actually loves me.
Right now she was sitting at his side, calm, reassuring; waiting for him to finish throwing up into the sink. She was the reason he even thought about accepting this impossible task. He wanted to protect her even if it ended up destroying him.
"I have to do this, mother," he whispered, the pain palatable in his voice. "I have to accept."
Narcissa Malfoy was watching her son closely. She knew the thoughts running through his head, knew how much he hated this situation, the fear he felt and why he wanted to try it at least. She couldn't accept this. She couldn't watch him as he destroyed his own soul. A few weeks ago, there wouldn't have been a choice. Despite this tearing her heart apart, she would have had to accept Draco's fate. But not anymore. A new player had entered the playing ground, a player willing and able to change everything.
It's your choice, he had told her.
And choose she would.
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Gringotts – Back room
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"Why are we here?" Argus Filch demanded to know, his voice irritated but firm. The caretaker of Hogwarts wasn't a likable or polite man in the best of days and today he felt a fit of arthritis in his bones. Argus glanced around. At least there was only one goblin present, a very old female one. He didn't like Goblins very much, too inhuman. His view of other races had softened somewhat over the course of the last school year – having to watch and listen to the dumb shit of Dolores Umbridge did that to a man – but he still wouldn't invite Firenze – the new divination teacher at Hogwarts and a Centaur to boost – to a tea party, and neither would he invite a Goblin.
"I'm sure he'll tell us in a minute," a man in his thirties responded with a shrug. Argus didn't have to hear his name to realize this one was a Black. Surprising was only the fact that he didn't recognize him. All Blacks went to Hogwarts and he should know every Black under the age of 60. The man politely greeted the two present women with a kiss on the hand, making Arabella Figg smile wistfully and Petunia Dursley faintly blush. He even moved to do the same with the Goblin but her smile – actually frighteningly barred teeth – convinced him otherwise.
"Greetings, Mister Black," the Golbin rumbled. It was her first sentence since Argus had entered the room and it reminded him of an avalanche in snowy mountains. So, he's really a Black. He looks akin to the Black Brothers.
"Greetings, Lady Ironsides," Marius Black bowed. The motion was executed far deeper than he would act towards any pureblood wizard, something the elderly lady apparently noticed.
"Ah, I see, everybody there already," a young voice announced from the entrance. "Good, good, then let's start. I assume we all have things to do." Steward Cullen, Argus immediately stood up and bowed slightly. It was the polite thing to do and the young man had gone out of his way over the last weeks to get to know him. While Albus and most other staff members were polite most of the time, it was a patronizing politeness, letting him feel that they would always be superior to him. Steward Cullen on the other hand treated him like an equal. He often asked for Argus' opinion and while they rarely agreed over anything, Cullen always took him seriously and thought about Argus' comments before declining them. The most important point however was that they shared a bound through their dedication to the school. Cullen had been the first one to realize that only a man of deep dedication would be able to stand the belittling and insults over the years. Perhaps they had different opinions about how to achieve it, but both wanted Hogwarts to be the best school around the world. And in one matter they completely shared an opinion: no more three-headed dogs, basilisks, dragons or Blast-Ended Skrewts.
Two men were accompanying Steward Cullen into the room, one he was vaguely acquainted with, the other one a Muggleborn, apparently. The first one went over to Lady Ironsides while the last one, together with Cullen, took one of the six seats that were arranged around a table.
"Please have a seat," Cullen gestured. "First: the introduction."
"Arabella Figg". He knew her, she somehow worked for the Headmaster.
"Petunia Dursley." Wasn't she Potter's aunt or something?
"Argus Filch." He bowed slightly, but less than when he had greeted Cullen.
"Benjamin Granger." Granger? Perhaps a relative of that Muggleborn witch that could always be found around Potter.
"Marius Black". He should have realized. There had been stories about his family tree being disowned two generations ago. A squib like me, Argus mused darkly.
"Lady Ironsides and Unspeakable Croaker are here as observers." An Unspeakable, Filch narrowed his eyes. He didn't like those. Allegedly they belonged to the best among wizards but still they hadn't been able – or willing, as was certainly truer – to help him when he wrote them about his problems learning Kwikspell.
"Let us begin."
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The next hour belonged to the most frightening and disturbing Argus Filch had ever the displeasure of experiencing.
"Immortal?" He asked hoarsely. "That bastard is immortal?"
Perhaps the others were a tad shocked to hear his opinion about Voldemort, an opinion uttered in pure hate, but he had his reasons. He had watched the events of the last war a decade ago. Many fights had erupted in the corridors of Hogwarts, fights mostly instigated by young racist purebloods. Far too many Muggleborn students he had met at Hogwarts died in the war. Far too often a young, snotty pureblood dared to insult or even threaten him while being in detention. Argus knew he wouldn't survive for long with Voldemort in charge of the school. For a few years there had been peace, but not long enough to forget this madness.
And then there was the day of the third task. He didn't like young Potter very much, he was too much like his father in causing trouble. But Argus never doubted his story about Voldemort's return. There was too much honest terror in his eyes as he cradled the dead body of Cedric Diggory in his arms, one of the few pureblood teenagers that had never in his whole time at Hogwarts created any kind of trouble for anyone, a young man that obviously cared for younger students and had always been polite to him. What a loss it had been, Argus mused. With Voldemort's reappearance returned his fears too. Last year, with his obedience to Dolores Umbridge and her Inquisitorial Squad, had been a bad year, a year where he acted mostly out of self-preservation. He more than once had he hated himself for his weakness. He tried to convince himself that not all was bad. Feeling ill he remembered his own remarks about "returning to the good old days with whips and shackles". That the students had believed his ramblings only told him what they really thought about him.
And now he wasn't only back but immortal too.
"Yes," Cullen gestured towards two objects that rested on the table, both damaged beyond repair but still giving him the creeps. "He created these two objects. The book has been the reason of young Miss Ginny letting loose a Basilisk at Hogwarts three years ago, against her will I have to add."
Argus felt hate rise in his heart. The basilisk had nearly killed his cat. The rumour about Potter killing the beast was one of the few reasons he was willing to forgive him all the trouble he had caused in the past.
"The locket, we found this summer and destroyed."
Argus felt there was more behind the story and was convinced the young man had more than a small part in it. His opinion was only improved another notch.
"Both objects contained a sliver of Voldemort's soul, a sliver that is destroyed now, weakening him and diminishing his immortality. There is however at least another Horcrux out there and I need your help to destroy it – to destroy it without destroying its 'container', because you have to know this: the third object is actually a person."
"Harry," Benjamin Granger's voice was barely a whisper. "You mean Harry. The scar…"
"Yes, young Mister Potter's scar is such an object, created when Voldemort killed his parents. Whether it was done as an accident or on purpose, we'll never know. But that doesn't change the fact: it's a Horcrux and we have to destroy it without killing Harry."
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Do I want this? Argus wondered. Do I want to learn this?
Steward Cullen had explained his plan, and why it had to be them. They all were Squibs, in the end it was that simple. Apparently only Squibs had a chance of learning this special skill he wanted to train them in. Yes, there was the part too about Cullen trusting them and "all of you have a reason to do this" but in the end it came back to the simple fact: they were Squibs.
It's funny, isn't it? Argus laughed uneasily. My whole life I have been mocked for a thing I could do nothing about. My family disowned me. I'm unmarried and despised. And now he offers me a chance, a totally weird and unexpected chance, to redeem myself and do something important because of it. Argus glanced around. Black wanted to do it because Sirius Black was Potter's godfather – that and because he owned Sirius something for allowing him back into the family, something he did without having any kind of reimbursement in mind. Perhaps Sirius Black has indeed changed since his Hogwarts days.
Arabella was simply a caring woman who liked the boy. She, like that Dursley woman, obviously had something to repay to the boy as well. Granger would try it for his daughter mostly. This left him, Argus Filch.
"I'll need at least three of you for the ritual, more would be better, especially because I am not completely certain that all of you will be able to learn the ritual."
Cullen wanted to train them in the Song of Light, as he called it. Apparently it was one of the first things young Templars learned in his home country, something very basic that allowed them to share… share what? Their magic? Souls? Belief?
"It will also tell me if you have the talent to learn more."
That had been a point of interest for Argus too. It's not magic, he mused, but similar enough. He had witnessed how Cullen caused young Malfoy to bow to his might. If nothing else he would like that power. He feared a bit that he would abuse such a power should he possess it, but Cullen apparently thought otherwise. He had agreed to teach him more, him and Black, should they show any talent for it. Arabella felt too old for that and Petunia wanted to leave the magical world as soon as possible. Both – as well as Granger – would only learn this one thing to help Potter.
He has enough helpers already, Argus thought. He doesn't need me anymore, but he still wants me in this.
It was this point that convinced him in the end: Cullen's honest wish to have him part of this, to be important and do something instead of hiding, cowering as the war waged on.
I'm a man and not a mouse.
"I'm in."
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Interlude: Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office
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"How could you do this to me?" Harry hissed, stalking around in Albus office like he owned the place.
Hopefully he doesn't trash the place – again; Albus thought, feeling a tad annoyed about the boy's lack of self-control.
"How could you take this away from me? Haven't I endured enough in the past?" While his eyes got teary, his face was an expression of hot rage. Without Cullen's teaching, the last restraints would already have fallen. "It was my inheritance. You had no right to withhold it."
"You're right," Albus agreed in his soft grandfatherly voice. "You did enough, endured more than anybody could demand from you. However, please understand: you're too important. When I told you about the prophecy, about your role in this war, I didn't exaggerate. I really meant it: you'll decide the fate of this war. You're not a pawn on this chessboard, you're queen and king in one go. You're the one to strike him down. You're the one who has to survive." At least until you have to die fulfilling your role in this game, he thought sadly. "I really wanted to allow you your own life, your own happiness. However, too many lives depend on you. I had to nudge you towards your destiny, to control the conditions. Please believe me, Harry: if I had a choice, I would have chosen different."
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Hogwarts – ROR
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"Why are we here, Cullen?" Hermione asked softly. She looked around in the room of requirements. The damages had long been repaired and it looked nothing like the last time, when the D.A. had trained here. It reminded her of a mix of a Church and an Asian meditation room. "And what kind of chamber is this?"
"It's created after my memory of a Templar meditation chamber. We use those to prepare our minds for important rituals."
Ginny stared wide-eyed. Unlike Hermione she had never seen anything like this. She followed her friend to the tall statue domineering the room. It reminded Hermione of Blessed Virgin Mary. Perhaps every culture needs a person like her. Only this Mary was more forceful and somewhat war-like, looking a bit like those Greek goddesses she had seen this summer.
"That's Andraste," Cullen explained. "She was the prophet of the maker, founder of our Church. She freed our people from oppression." He pondered for a moment and continued somewhat hesitantly. "In my opinion she was more like Mohammed had been for the Muslims than Jesus for the Christ. However, there are groups who believe she was more than a simply mortal, that she's now sitting at the maker's side as his bride."
"And what do you think?" Hermione asked softly.
"I think, Andraste was an extraordinary woman with a vision, allowing us other mortals to have more in our life than only a materialistic view. She offered us hope and showed us a way to save our souls from damnation. But she wasn't simply concentrating on the afterlife: she showed us a way to live this life in a way befitting to believers, helped others along on their own way to happiness, not only in the afterlife but also here."
"Sounds like a great woman to me."
"She certainly was," Cullen agreed.
"And who's that?" Ginny pointed towards a woman's statue, smaller than Andraste, standing in an alcove at the side with a small altar in front of it. "She reminds me of my great grandmother Rose."
"She does?" Hermione wondered. "I think she looks like my grand aunt Jane."
"She appears different to each of us," Cullen placated them. "It's part of her magic. This is Mother Rosalia. According to our tales, she has been mother confessor to nobody less than Andraste herself. She is a reminder of the days when even Andraste was a mortal, with her own doubts and grieves. She reminds us of the simple fact that even the greatest among us need a little help from time to time, that nobody can live without a friend, or a shoulder to cry on. We all can only be so strong ourselves."
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"I'm sorry, Mathilda," Hermione said with a low voice. The elderly house-elf had joined the trio and more or less ignored the girl so far. After a supporting nod from Cullen, Hermione had gathered her Gryffindor courage and decided to address the pink elephant in the room.
Mathilda didn't say anything but at least didn't glare either. She's not making this any easier, Cullen thought, suppressing a smile. She's far too much like Commander Gregoire right now.
"Krea-kreacher," Hermione stuttered. "He explained to me the bond between house-elves and wizards."
"Did he now?"
Hermione nodded, continued with a cute blush. "He spoke about the reasons why house-elves like to serve, how much it hurts you to be freed – like it happened to Winky." Slowly she got more secure, her speech more fluid. "He explained why Dobby felt bad living with the Malfoys, why he wanted to get away but still wanted to serve – only under a more understanding master."
Mathilda still didn't say anything, but her face seemed a tad softer now – at least to Cullen who actually learned to read her expression.
"I still want to help your people. I still think you deserve happiness and to be treated fairly and politely. However, I understand that I have much to learn before I know the right way to continue on my path." Hermione concluded with a sigh: "and I hope you'll be willing to help me with this. I can't do this without you."
"Apology accepted," Mathilda responded with a small nod. She wanted to leave it with that, but Cullen raised a single eyebrow. With a groan, Mathilda snapped her fingers and a small box appeared in her hands. She offered it to Hermione who opened it warily. She saw perhaps two dozen tiny vials in it.
"What's..?"
"You can't learn about us without visiting our home, can you?"
"Home..?"
"You didn't think we live in the kitchen, did you?" Mathilda huffed under the broad grins of Ginny and Cullen. "And you can't visit us without shrinking. You would certainly bring the ceiling down with that big head of yours."
"Oh, Mathilda, thank you," Hermione wailed, understanding the invitation as what it was. She jumped the tiny elf and hugged her. Mathilda froze for a moment before she patted her back awkwardly, while glaring at Cullen. 'You owe me for this'.
'She deserves a chance', he mouthed back, looking very smug right now.
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"You still didn't tell us… why are we here, Cullen?" Hermione mentioned after a while.
Cullen sighed and took a seat. There was a very comfortable sitting group in a corner of the room. Mathilda, after offering tea and cake, left them to their own devices. The young man got very sombre now, actually frightening the girls a bit. However, they had to know how serious this was. With a soft voice he explained them in detail about the diary and the locket, the nature of a Horcrux and what it meant for the survival of Voldemort – and the rest of the magical world. Cullen got even more dire speaking about Harry's scar. Both girls turned into a mix of deep grief and incredible anger directed at the monster that had done this to 'their Harry'.
"He doesn't know," Cullen concluded "at least not every part of this."
"He has a right to know," Hermione demanded and Ginny nodded eagerly. "He was more than furious about Albus' secrets."
"I'm nothing like Albus," Cullen growled.
This actually placated the girls, a little bit at least. "We know you aren't. Still he should hear about this."
"He will, in a few weeks." Cullen raised a hand to stop their complaints. "How would Harry react hearing this? What would he have done, with this knowledge in his heart, meeting Voldemort at the Ministry?"
Both girls went deathly pale. There was no doubt about the answer. "He would have sacrificed himself," Hermione whispered.
"I have no doubt," Cullen agreed "that he would have done exactly that."
"You want to find a solution first," Ginny grasped first where his thoughts were going.
Cullen nodded. "I already have a solution… I think."
"And it has something to do with this room… with us?"
"In a way yes," Cullen affirmed. "I want to use this room for a bit of training. You remember my special abilities?" Both girls nodded. "I'm able to destroy a Horcrux, I've done it with the locket," again he stopped girls, this time from prematurely expressing joy. "However, by doing this I destroy the container of the Horcrux, too."
Joy turned into despair. "Then… how…?"
"I found five people willing to help me." He had been very happy that all five had actually agreed to help him. The training would start in a few days. "I'll train them in one special ability and together we should be able to destroy the Horcrux without damaging the container." He hated it to speak like this about Harry but it help to keep a clear mind.
"We want to be part of this," Ginny demanded and Hermione eagerly nodded. Sadly, Cullen shook his head: "you can't… because you're witches. I need people that possess a magical core, but small enough not to count as wizards."
Ginny looked confused but Hermione concluded: "you need squibs." As Cullen nodded, Hermione's expression turned into a mischievous grin. "I know some pureblood who'll hate the idea."
"I assume as much," Cullen responded with a likewise grin.
"So," Hermione asked slowly: "you have the people and the training room. You'll train them, make your ritual and exorcise the Horcrux from Harry." Cullen nodded. "Then what about us?"
"I need you for the rehearsals," Cullen explained blandly. "First we'll do a cleansing of your wound, Hermione. I mostly extracted the curse, but small remains are still lingering there. It's the reason you still have a thin scar. It will be a good way to test the cleansing ritual."
Ginny got very silent and trembled slightly. She had an idea where this was going. Cullen didn't disappoint her. "You still have nightmares, Ginny, don't you?" Ginny nodded weakly, tears shooting into her eyes. "I can feel his aura around you. It hasn't left you completely. It makes you feel… unclean." Again she nodded, leaning into Hermione who glared at Cullen for doing this. "I can help you, Ginny. The feeling will never go completely away, but this will free your mind and soul of his remains."
Ginny sniffed and stared at him, trying to find something in his eyes. "You know," she said after a while. "You know how it feels."
Cullen nodded with a dark face.
"You experienced the same thing," Hermione half-asked, half-stated. Her face softened. Cullen wasn't doing this to hurt her friend. He certainly understood her better than anybody else.
"Let me tell you, Ginny, about my time at the Circle, the time of the assault. It was a time of madness and grief, with demons running wild, trying to subjugate my mind, to force my soul into servitude. Let me tell you about Uldred."
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Interlude – Gaunt Manor
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Another ward down, another step done on his way to his destination, Albus Dumbledore thought gravely, as he entered the dark room. Only an undertaker would call the room cosy, with its dark wood panelling, the threadbare couch in an old-fashioned floral pattern and the brass candle holders. Nobody, no burglar, would expect something steal-worthy in this room. Not that any burglar would be able to enter the house and survive the daring feat. However, this was exactly the reason for Albus' presence: he wanted to steal something – or to safeguard it, as he called it in his head.
The old manor of the Gaunt family had been mostly empty for many years. Tom apparently didn't like it and apart from a short stay in the year of his return, he hadn't made use of it so far. This didn't mean there wasn't anything of interest in the house or that it would be without danger to enter the place. No less than four layers of wards to alarm and protect had been around the house and especially this room.
A worthy defence, Albus mused, of the item I expect to find here.
While he rummaged through the belongings that had been left behind, searching for secret stashes where the ring could be hidden, Albus thought about the events of the past couple of weeks. Control was slipping through his fingers this summer. The members of his order as well as the students and teachers of Hogwarts had always obeyed him, always been close to him, and looked up to him with adoration and respect. Since Cullen's sudden appearance at the Ministry so much had changed and he was still wondering whether it was a good or bad development.
Had Cullen been right? Had he been too convinced by his own intellect and wisdom; listening to nobody but his own opinion? He made errors in the past. Albus was wise enough to admit that. But overall he had chosen the right path, hadn't he? The conversation with Harry had shaken him more than he wanted to admit. He nearly admitted to the boy that he expected him to die in the end. It would have been too early. Since then he was struggling between yielding and stubbornness.
Yielding would mean to listen to Cullen and Harry, cooperate more and decide less on his own. They – and a few others like Minerva and Filius – would certainly like it, such a new style. But would it be better for Britain in the long run? Wouldn't 'Democracy' weaken the Light's position in its fight against the overwhelming Darkness? Wouldn't it hinder him from making fast decisions in moments of urgency? Wouldn't it prevent him from making decisions that were right and important only because they were unpopular and hard? Like putting young Harry in the Dursleys' care, a decision he still felt right about.
Stubbornness would mean to continue his old path, to only listen to himself, following his own advice. That path would be more difficult to follow from now on, especially with Cullen putting more and more obstacles in his way. Albus knew that he needed an important victory and fast. Destroying another Horcrux would be such a victory, allowing him to catch up with the young man.
With a proud smile, Albus watched the panel slid open, revealing the hidden stash with a locked box in it. Another ward, he noticed. It wouldn't stop him.
In a few minutes I'll hold another Horcrux in my hand, the Gaunt family ring.
In a few minutes I'll have the victory I sorely need.
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Hogwarts
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Crashing boots on the stone floor were the first sign of something – someone – disturbing his well-earned peace. Feeling that his leisure afternoon would soon come to a sudden end, Severus Snape put a stasis spell on the cauldron he had been working on. No sooner than that the door was opened with more force than could be called polite and banged against the wall. A beyond furious Steward Cullen entered the potion lab, the young man glaring at him. Severus actually felt a tad intimidated – not that he would ever admit that openly – but sensed that his anger wasn't directed at him.
"What has Albus done this time?" It was a poke in the dark but until now he had only seen the young man angry as this about something Albus had done.
"Please come with me, Professor," Cullen urged. He obviously struggled to be half-way polite as if he hadn't time for that nonsense right now.
Severus rolled his eyes and didn't budge – for now. It felt good to be the one irritating the other for once. "Could it wait? I've much to…"
"Come," Cullen actually stomped on the floor like a toddler. Somewhat calmer he explained: "hurry, it's about Draco and Narcissa Malfoy." He left the lab again, not even looking back if Severus followed him, mumbling something awful sounding like 'stupid git'. Severus didn't know if Cullen meant Albus or him – perhaps both.
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A few minutes later Severus Snape found himself following Cullen upstairs towards the Headmaster's office. He hadn't explained why his godson or Narcissa would be here but Severus had his suspicions. Severus assumed it had something to do with the rumours about Draco taking the mark this summer, rumours that the Dark Lord wanted to punish Lucius for his failure at the Ministry by instructing Draco to do some impossible task. Bella had hinted at something like this between mad cackles.
"Open!" Cullen hissed at the Gargoyle guarding the entrance to Albus' office, neither asking for allowance nor willing to use the password. Without hesitation the stony guardian jumped aside.
He's showing Albus that he is not one to be messed with, Severus realized with a smirk.
"Oh, Cullen, Severus, welcome," Albus greeted them, the smile not reaching his eyes.
Cullen only grunted, before greeting Narcissa with a polite bow: "welcome to Hogwarts, Lady Malfoy."
Severus had only a few seconds to have a look at Draco and Narcissa – both looked very pale and tense, with Narcissa's eyes puffy and red – before he found a trembling witch in his arms. It has to be even worse than I thought. Narcissa rarely showed her emotions like this. She was always controlled, always a lady.
"Now, now," Albus tried to sooth them. "We should all sit down and speak about this like adults."
"Are you alright, Mister Malfoy?" Cullen asked Draco, completely ignoring Albus. He even put a steadying hand on Draco's shoulder. That the young Slytherin endured it without sparing a glance or attempting to draw back was proof of his inner turmoil. He nodded, apparently not trusting his voice right now, his concerned eyes never leaving his mother's fragile frame.
Severus led Narcissa back to her chair and took a seat at her side. "Could anybody explain to me what happened?" He looked Narcissa in the eye, his voice controlled but his eyes blazing. "Not that I wouldn't be happy to see you, Cissy, but why are you here? Certainly your sister and your… house guest… won't be happy should they hear about this."
"He wants me to take the mark, Uncle," Draco said, speaking for the first time, his voice broken. ""He wants me to become a Death Eater before I return to Hogwarts. He…" His eyes flicked to the headmaster. "He gave me a task…"
"What kind of task?" Severus asked, already having a creepy feeling about it, a feeling of impending doom. That Albus was sitting there, watching, listening, staring like a snake watching her breakfast, certainly didn't calm him one bit.
"He wants me to… to kill…"
"To kill whom? Potter?" Irrespective of how much he hated the boy for being his father's son, he couldn't allow it to happen. He promised Lily to protect him. However, it would at least be something imaginable, something feasible for a teenager.
"N… no," Draco shook his head. "The Headmaster."
"What?" Severus' eyes widened in horror.
"He told me to return and kill the Headmaster before the end of the school year."
"And how does he expect you to accomplish this simple task?" Severus sneered. He already knew the answer.
"He doesn't," Cullen interjected calmly.
"He expects Draco to try and die in the attempt," Narcissa agreed. "It's Lucius' punishment."
So I assumed correctly, Severus thought, feeling even worse for being right about it. Draco had the choice of denying – and being killed by the Dark Lord or, more realistic, his mad aunt – or die trying something far beyond his abilities. He's a dead man walking already.
"We'll find a way to prevent this from happening, I'm certain," Albus stated calmly, his voice nonchalant like speaking about the weather. However, his eyes told a different story. Severus saw something in his mentor's eyes he didn't like. He had seen this expression years ago when another young man had entered the Headmaster's office searching protection and absolution, finding only more hurt and pain.
"I want to protect Draco from this. He can't take the mark," Narcissa pleaded, struggling to compose herself. "I've seen what it did to Lucius. I won't watch Draco take the same slide into darkness."
Slide into Darkness; that sounded far too much like something Cullen would say, Albus groaned. "It won't happen, Narcissa," he said with a supportive smile. "However, the Order is far-stretched as it is. We can't protect anybody simply out of our good heart," he explained with a regretful sigh. Both Cullen and Severus listened with narrowed eyes. They didn't like one bit where this conversation was heading. "To openly defy Voldemort right now would be too dangerous for young Mister Malfoy. Perhaps it would be better to play for time. He could agree for now…"
Two hands smashing on the table interrupted him. For a moment Cullen and Severus locked eyes, seeing only determination to stop this from happening. "You can't seriously demand from Draco to accept the mark. It would be like branding him as cattle for the slaughterhouse. It's a step he would never be able to undo. It would taint his life forever."
"Severus," Albus tried to placate him. Didn't he understand that this was needed? Albus wondered. "This is wartime. I would love to simply offer protection, but this is a chance to…"
"To turn him into a tool, like you did to me years ago? Do you actually intend to… what? Use him as a spy?" Severus gestured towards Draco: "he wouldn't stand a chance. He would be dead before the first conversation with the Dark Lord is over. Completely disregarding what this would do to his mind. The Dark mark isn't a simple tattoo, Albus. He would be forced to maim, rape and kill. "
"Yes, Severus, I understand this. I really…"
"No, you don't," Cullen calmly stopped him. "You have absolutely no idea what we're speaking about. Perhaps it's time that you do."
Before either man had a chance to slink back, Cullen grabbed Albus' right hand and Severus' left. He forced them together, open palm against open palm.
Does he know Legilimency? Albus wondered with no small amount of fear. The young man had never shown signs of that rare ability. Severus wondered the same but was calmer about it. If showing his mind to Albus would save Draco from taking this dark path, it would be worth the embarrassment. Narcissa had always been kind to him. Supporting her now was more important than his own feelings.
However, it wasn't their mind Cullen was targeting at. Thoughts weren't his specialty but souls instead. Similar to what he had done with Andromeda Tonks at Harry's former home, he used his abilities to show Albus what the past had done to Severus' heart and soul. Albus raised his Occlumency shields to the fullest while Severus dropped his. Neither act was of any importance as Cullen's powers didn't target the mind. Instead, putting their hands together, with his hands around them, allowed their auras to mesh.
The feeling was seriously disturbing and instantly broke through any barrier Albus had put around his mind. He felt something crack in his heart, as raw emotions battered him. Albus staggered, only not losing his stance because Cullen didn't allow it to happen. With decades' worth of experience in controlling his own mind and heart, Albus tried to shield himself from wave after wave of dark emotions. They shattered any barrier, fragile or strong, flooded his heart with pictures of what Severus had endured in the past, how events and deeds had changed him, tainted him and darkened that part of him that Cullen called his soul.
It was dark everywhere. Albus felt like a little boy lost in a deep well. There was no way to leave it, no rescue possible and the water was rising around him. Albus didn't realize that the only water right now were the tears streaming from his eyes. Narcissa and Draco stared at them with wide eyes, not really understanding what they were watching. Narcissa had at least a guess and actually felt worse that Severus had to endure this to help her son. Albus staggered anew, his last restraint falling apart. This time Cullen let his hand go, allowed Albus to sink back. With a loud crashing sound Albus went to the floor with his seat, looking like he was completely groggy from whatever he just experienced.
"This is your work, Headmaster," Cullen his, his voice far darker than any time before. "Severus made a grave error in his youth, an error he regretted ever since. But instead of helping him, instead of assisting him on his way back to light and hope, you heaved darkness after darkness onto his soul. I can't imagine what he had to do in the past, to promote your 'Greater Good'." Cullen spat the last words. "In any case it was far more than any General had the right to demand. If this is the price of seeing the Light win, then it isn't worth it."
Cullen breathed deeply, struggling to calm down again. He glanced towards Draco, who looked like fainting. He watched Narcissa who now returned the favour and hugged Severus who looked like a broken doll.
"Severus may be a prat, a caustic cynic full of hate and prejudices, unable to control his temper or simply show a modicum of polite and fair behaviour. But you certainly did your part in promoting this. You did your part in breaking him. He is a human being who deserves more than this. How can you even stand the sight of him, knowing what you did to him, knowing what you demanded him to do and endure?"
Cullen stepped at Draco's side. "You won't repeat what you did to him. You won't force Draco to ruin his life as your tool in this war." Nodding towards Narcissa who stared at him with thankful eyes, he calmly stated: "I promised you the protection of Hogwarts, Lady Malfoy, for you and your son. Hogwarts stands to this promise."
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Hogwarts – Albus private rooms
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The past days had been hard and the nights even more so. Since his 'conversation' with Cullen, Severus and the Malfoys, nightmares had disturbed his sleep. Past conversation had made reappearance in his mind, conversations he had with a younger Severus, with a boy looking for help and getting cold orders instead.
You did your part in breaking him.
Cullen had been right. Severus needed a friend, a confessor and someone caring about him. Instead he got a second harsh master, one who only saw his worth as a pawn in this game of chess. Had it been worth it? Using Severus had saved countless lives but he wasn't certain anymore that the sheer number counted more than the pain he had caused.
Albus looked down on the table. A single piece of jewellery was resting there: the Gaunt family ring. Like expected it turned out to be one of Tom's Horcruxes. It contained a sliver of his soul and needed to be destroyed before Harry could confront him. However, the ring had unveiled another secret, a secret far more disturbing and able to tug at Albus' heart in a way he hadn't expected. The ring was built around one of the three Deathly Hallows: the so-called resurrection stone. Naturally the name was deceptive. The stone wouldn't raise someone from death, wouldn't restore life. However, according to his knowledge, it would call back a soul from beyond. It would allow him to speak with her, with his dead sister Ariana.
It was a risk and he wasn't certain to want to take, but her death, the circumstances of how she died, had always been the one big grief in his life. It had estranged him from his brother and forbidden him from finding true happiness. Ariana had always been on his mind, from a small corner in his head watching his every action. He would never be able to rectify his errors of the past, but perhaps by seeing her, speaking with her and apologizing to her, he could find closure.
He would destroy the ring afterwards, but didn't he deserve this at least?
With new-found determination Albus put the ring on his finger.
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Hogwarts – near the ROR
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"Why are we here, Mathilda?"
Cullen asked the tiny house-elf with a smile on his lips. She had only told him that she wanted to show him something, wanted him to meet someone.
"Patience is a virtue."
Cullen raised a single eyebrow. One day I have to ask her if she had been Templar-Commander in another life. Or drill-sergeant perhaps, he silently snickered. Exercising patience as demanded, he waited at her side for whomever she expected. In his honour it should be said that he only jumped a little when suddenly the 'guest' appeared – right through the wall. It was a… a ghostly appearance, so to say. Remembering his manners, Cullen bowed deeply. "Greetings, Grey Lady."
Naturally he had met her before, had heard that she rarely if ever spoke to others, ghost or living inhabitants of Hogwarts. Someone once mentioned that she mostly ignored the headmaster, a detail only improving his opinion about her character.
"Greetings, Steward Cullen," she responded to his surprise. "Matron Mathilda told me much about you."
"I hope only the nice stories," Cullen asked.
"Are there really nice stories about you?" Mathilda mock wondered.
"Old hag," Cullen growled.
"Big oaf," Mathilda responded in kind.
"I see, the stories are true," the Grey Lady mocked.
Cullen got serious again. "I'm a tad surprised, I admit. I heard that you're a bit… reclusive."
"I mostly am," the Grey Lady admitted. "However, Mathilda told me about your plans regarding this room," she gestured towards the room of requirement. "Don't fear: your secret is safe with me," she soothed his fears, feeling his troubles. "However, I want to help."
Cullen accepted the offer with a bow. "Your help is certainly appreciated. How exactly would you like to assist?"
"First, you should perhaps know my real name. In life I was known as Helena Ravenclaw, the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw." Cullen's eyes widened. Even he had heard about Rowena Ravenclaw, one of the four founders of Hogwarts. "I want to tell you a little story, young Cullen. It's a story of a ghost, an error made and a mother's diadem."
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A/N
I'm not completely content with the Albus/Severus/Cullen scene. I hope it's still readable and understandable how Cullen tried to show Albus that Severus Snape isn't simply a pawn in this game, a tool to be used, but a human being.
Mother Rosalia isn't an original DA char, but a NPC I invented for my DA roleplaying group.
From now on I'll continue this story at a slower pace. It's really time to start with part three of my Harry Potter trilogy. I nonetheless hope to publish another chapter of this story every 1-2 weeks.