Chapter Seventeen - The Truth About Tom Riddle
Harry's dreams were not of sugarplums.
He stood in front of a band of black-robed men wearing white masks. They followed him as he stalked purposefully toward the still-being-finished building. The very sight of it angered him, stirring bad memories. Tonight this place too would burn.
The door may have been open. He didn't bother to check before bursting it open with a silent spell. The crash caused a stirring, and a shout of warning raised the alarm. He distinctly heard the pop of Apparition, but the few who would get away did not concern him. The Ministry had so nicely gathered all of these filthy Mudbloods in one place. He would be happy to destroy them.
The Killing Curse was not allowed tonight. No, tonight was about terror, not war. Bone-Breakers, Bone-Dissolvers, Flesh-Dissolvers, and other Dark magic flew wild in every corner of the orphanage, not just the Cruciatus. The screams of the tortured mingled with the tears of the maimed. The smell of blood mingled with sweat, smoke, and fear to produce a stink that would have turned any normal wizard's stomach.
In addition to the children, none of whom was older than three, there were two adult wizards who hadn't been quick enough to Apparate out before the Disapparition Jinxes went up. The Curse of a Thousand Cuts taught these Mudblood-loving swine a lesson in propriety. When they had stopped shaking and sobbing, Harry summoned a wave of salt water with a casual wave of his wand. They shrieked so loud, their voices broke. They strained against their bonds, trying to escape from the awful pain.
Harry saw one of the older boys toddling towards him, a wand held backwards in two tiny hands. This one was a future Gryffindor, no doubt about it. He had to smile viciously.
The Flaying was brutal enough to a full-grown wizard, but on a child it was magnificent. Every inch of healthy pink skin was slowly peeled off. The boy's howls were music in his ears. Blood dripped down his limbs and pooled on the floor. He tried to take a step, but he fell down, splashing blood everywhere. He writhed and thrashed, shrieking to wake the dead.
Harry came awake and promptly vomited everywhere.
His skin was clammy. He couldn't stop shaking. He desperately tried to clear his mind, to empty himself of all emotion, but the sheer horror and disgust raised by the images burned into his brain made that impossible. His scar was throbbing so hard he felt like his skull would crack in half, and he was near blinded with whiteness from the pain. New images kept appearing, and Harry knew he was seeing into Voldemort's mind in real time. He fought off a stab of panic that he might be in way over his head - so to speak - and took a deep breath, ignoring the ripeness of his surroundings. He tried to detatch, to separate himself. He thought of nothing at all, as though he were fast asleep. Tears of frustration, anger, and sadness leaked from his clenched eyes to roll down his cheeks.
The visions began to slow, as the immediate killing stopped. Harry used the time to purge himself of feeling. He called on his mongoose, hoping that the animal nature of his mind would help break the connection. Sirius had used his dog form to lessen the influence of the dementors. What was Voldemort other than a soul-sucking, evil thing? His diary had tried to steal Ginny's soul, and his real one had found a new body.
Harry found a new body as well, and his mind cleared more. He filled his thoughts with the soothing darkness of the tunnels, the smell of the earth under his feet, and the sound of his mate sleeping. At last he felt calm and tranquil. He returned to his human form, keeping the simple thoughts at the forefront of his human brain.
The visions were gone, but Harry knew they were more than just a bad dream. Something awful was happening somewhere.
Harry pulled on his dressing gown and picked up his wand. He Vanished the vomit with a flourish and added a blast of cinnamon to cover the smell.
He knocked on Sirius' door. Light snoring could be heard through the thick oak.
Harry pushed open the door and peered inside. Sirius had thrown off the blankets and was curled in the foetal position. He appeared to be having a dog-dream, because his hands and feet were twitching, as though he were running.
"Sirius," Harry called.
There was no response.
"Sirius!" Harry said again.
"Urf!"
Harry couldn't help himself, and he snickered. The laughter helped to chase away a bit of the horror he'd seen tonight.
He turned into Chitter again and went to wake Sirius. Sitting in front of his face and poking him repeatedly with a paw did the trick.
Sirius flinched back as he opened his eyes. Harry changed back into a boy.
"Harry, what is it?"
"Bad dream. Nightmare, really."
"Tell me about it."
Harry shook his head. "I don't want to think about what I saw. The Death Eaters are killing tonight. Right now."
"Where?"
"I don't know. I saw a lot of kids being cut down."
"Kids?"
"Yeah." Harry felt bile rise in his throat. "What's he done?"
"We'll find out, Harry. We'll find out. Are you okay?" Sirius put his hand on Harry's forehead.
"I will be. My head hurts. Can I stay here with you?"
"Of course. Do you need anything to drink? Let me call Kreacher."
"A glass of water, please."
"Kreacher!"
The house elf appeared with a bang.
"Yes, Master?" He rose from his bow and noticed Harry. "Master Harry? You no sleepy at night?"
"Harry needs a glass of water, please, Kreacher. Also fetch a Pain-Relief Potion and some Dreamless Sleep."
"Kreacher obeys."
He was back in a handful of seconds. The potions helped tame the pain, and the water washed the taste out of his mouth.
"Thank you, Kreacher."
Sirius waved his wand and transfigured the armoire into a bed. Kreacher winked away without being asked and returned with pillows and bedding.
"Shall we try to get some shut-eye?"
Harry was already yawning.
"Good night, Sirius."
"Good night, Harry."
MUGGLEBORN MASSACRE! MAGICAL ORPHANAGE DESTROYED!
by Rita Skeeter
The Dark Mark hangs in the sky over the Home for Magical Children after the most unspeakably heinous act ever committed by the Death Eaters. Last night, the Home was attacked by seven followers of the so-called Dark Lord. The childrens' guardians were able to Apparate away with a few of the babes, but when they attempted to return for the others, found the Home inaccessible. They immediately contacted the Ministry to alert the Aurors, but there was little to be done. The Anti-Apparition spells were in place for blocks, and Aurors investigated the scene on foot.
"It were horrible," said Auror Ian Baldi. "I haven't thrown up since I were on my first field assignment fresh outta boot. I don't mind telling you what I saw in there made me wish I hadn't eaten such a big dinner."
Auror Baldi's further remarks are not fit for publication in a family newspaper. This reporter was nearly sick listening to his account. Seventeen children, all under the age of three, are dead. Four were in the process of being adopted into pureblood families under the Magical Child Protection Act.
"This monstrous act must only strengthen our resolve in these Dark times," said Minister Fudge this morning. "Here is your great and noble Dark Lord! Here is the proof of his character! We will not bow down and serve a barbarian with no sense of decency or morals. The murder of children is an act most heinous, and civilized wizards must condemn it. Do not let your politics get in the way of doing what is right! We need every wand to quell such madness."
A memorial service is being arranged by the Office of Muggle Relations, which has jurisdiction over the Magical Child Protection Agency. Those seeking to assist should contact Undersecretary Pettinato.
Survivors speak about narrow escape, see page 3
Investigation into inadequate protections, see page 3
Ministry to classify more Dark spells as Unforgiveable?, see page 4
Harry crumpled the rest of the morning Prophet heedlessly as he stared at the article with his nose nearly on the page. His eyes flashed from word to word, devouring the article in mere seconds. He read it again, grief wrenching at his spirit.
The Home for Magical Children was where Muggleborns were brought when taken away from their parents who couldn't understand them. There were only a few born in the whole United Kingdom every year. The Muggle world never missed them. Now the wizarding world would certainly miss them. That many "dirty" Muggleborns had made Voldemort a very tempting target, and he'd been unable to resist.
"A disgusting affair," Mrs. Malfoy said.
"A senseless tragedy," Mr. Malfoy agreed.
"There was no need for this at all," Sirius retorted. "There should never have been such a target for Voldemort to attack."
"Yes, cousin, we know you think that the orphanage should never have existed in the first place."
"Orphanage! That implies a certain condition. The parents are still alive and missing their babies."
"All those children," Mrs. Malfoy said softly. "What a monster Voldemort is."
Despite his anger, Harry was nonetheless impressed. He had never heard Mrs. Malfoy speak the verboten name.
"And his Death Eaters," Sirius reminded. "Don't forget them. Equally monstrous."
"Why was the Home not adequtely protected?" Mrs. Malfoy asked. "Surely someone must have predicted that it would be a target."
Mr. Malfoy looked incensed. "The Ministry did not understand the true depths of his depravity. They truly are incompetent."
"He tried to murder a child before!" Sirius sneered.
"Only one, and named in prophecy."
"Don't tell me you're defending this!"
"Never. This deliberate destruction of magic is self-defeating. I have studied wizarding geneology a great deal. I have come to a number of uncomfortable truths, namely that if Muggleborns are not allowed to join the gene pool, we will eventually be unable to bear children at all. Even now, our numbers are dwindling. I looked long and hard to find a suitable match for Draco who wasn't too closely related. I would argue that Muggleborns ought marry each other and bear children, to purify the magic in them. Then any further descendants would be completely free of Muggleness. It would nearly certainly mean that magic will be passed on. It's one of the old critera the families used to use. You needed a minimum of three generations of magic to even associate with us. The Davis family, for instance, can only trace their line back six generations. It was why I allowed Elan to court that floozy girl of theirs. She was pure enough that she wouldn't taint the Malfoy blood."
"Father!" Elan protested. "Must you continue to bring up Jamie? I've been seeing Bridget for a considerable time now."
"She's a very suitable match."
Mrs. Malfoy still looked very sad and lost in thought. "I worked very hard to make sure that the children would be treated well. To have it all come to this barbaric behaviour breaks my heart."
"It reminds me why I wanted to be quit of him."
"Delicate stomach, Lucius?" Sirius asked.
"I suppose so. We wizards are supposed to be above the senseless killing that characterizes the Muggles."
"You know he's not really a pureblood?" Harry added.
"What?" Mr. Malfoy was thunderstruck. "Lord Voldemort is not a pureblood?"
"His real name is Tom Riddle. His mother was a witch, but his father was a Muggle she entranced."
"How do you know this?"
Harry glanced at Draco. How much of this story did he want to tell right now?
"In my second year, we came across this old diary. Long story short, Riddle had put a piece of himself in the diary. Somehow Ginny Weasley got ahold of it, and Riddle tried to steal her soul."
Mr. Malfoy looked both disturbed and intrigued. "What happened?"
"Everyone thought I was the Heir of Slytherin, so I was out to clear my name. I followed them into the Chamber of Secrets and confronted Riddle. He told me that everything he'd done was to get face to face with me because I'd survived Voldemort's Killing Curse."
"A very curious thing, to be sure."
"His interest was more than idle. He wanted to know, because he himself was Voldemort."
"He was trying to find out how he'd been undone. I see."
"If you rearrange the letters of his full name, Tom Marvolo Riddle, it forms a declarative statement: I am Lord Voldemort."
"Amazing. What else do we know about this Riddle?"
"Not much. He was a Slytherin prefect, later Head Boy, but he disappeared after leaving school. He must have been on a quest for power, because when he returned, it was as Voldemort."
"Who else knows?"
"Dumbledore, for one. I'm sure a few people in the Order know."
"Why hasn't he used this information to discredit Voldemort? Half his followers or more would desert him instantly if they knew he wasn't a pureblood."
"I can't say. Maybe we ought to think about spreading the word. I know the perfect person for it, too."
Mr. Malfoy smiled. "Rita loves a scoop, but we'd need proof."
"Proof?" Sirius scoffed. "Since when has Rita Skeeter needed any sort of evidence before she starts writing?"
"A fair point." Mr. Malfoy shook his head again in disbelief. "A halfblood?"
"Gentlemen, please," Mrs. Malfoy said firmly. "No more talk of the war or politics today. It is Christmas. Let us enjoy our family, reunited once more. Those murdering knaves will pay for all their atrocities. Someday."
If Harry had never lent his support to that Act, it might not have passed, and those kids would still be safe at home with their natural parents. Harry knew it to be true, as much as he squirmed about it. It didn't change the fact that magical children belonged with magical parents. Muggles had no place raising a wizard or witch. Harry felt guilty, but he was undecided about if he ought to feel guilty.
Ultimately, Voldemort was to blame. The murder had been done by him or on his orders. Harry refused to pull more guilt on his own shoulders than was absolutely his. He renounced all deeds but his own. If Voldemort hadn't been a blood-obsessed hypocrite, those children would still be alive and on their way to adoption.
"So are we going to be able to have a New Year's party?" Harry asked, changing the subject.
"Doubtful," Sirius said. "We had to go through some major contortions just to have a few guests at your birthday party. I don't think we could pull off any sort of large gathering."
Harry wanted to see Laine and have a go around the dancefloor with her. The crowd wouldn't have to be large, just select.
"I guess."
"No grand celebration, I'm afraid. Just a few friends in a room with the wireless on and perhaps some classical instruments charmed to play themselves."
"It sounds perfectly civilized to me," Mr. Malfoy said.
"I'm sorry we can't do more, Harry."
"That's okay, Sirius. Draco and I will probably play cards all night."
"There isn't much else. Mind if I get in on that game? Remus is liable to be out with Tonks. Narcissa and Lucius will be in his bedroom, and hopefully they remember the Silencing Charms this time."
Mrs. Malfoy flashed a disbelieving glance at her husband. A slow flush began to creep up her neck.
"Oh dear," Mr. Malfoy murmured. "I do apologize, cousin. To everyone, of course. In my delight at being reunited with my good lady wife, I have most dreadfully embarassed her. Please forgive me."
"Quite all right, Lucius," Sirius said with a wave of his hand. "It's all family. It reminds me that you're really human after all. Your heart beats, and you breathe air."
Dear Harry,
Thank you SO much for the locket! It's perfect! I don't even care that it doesn't open. It's a wonderful bit of jewelry. I think gold is so very pretty. I love how it shines. I'll wear it every day.
The Everlasting Essences were very thoughtful as well. I knew you were good at Potions, but those smell absolutely fantastic. I'll put one in my dormitory as soon as we get back.
I hope you like the painting. It's my own work. Rubbish, I know, but I've only been doing it for five years. I've always liked Stonehenge's history, and I can picture the place perfectly in my mind. I wish I'd done a better job of transfering it to the canvas.
Holiday is enjoyable enough, but I so strongly desire to return to Hogwarts where I can be swept into your strong arms. I miss your tender kisses, and my heart cries out for you. I cannot wait to see you again.
All my love,
Laine
The memory of Laine's kisses made Harry break out into an excited sweat. When they'd last snogged, they'd left several marks on each other. Sirius had grinned knowingly when he'd seen them and casually offered to show Harry another Concealing Charm.
Laine made him feel silly, like he'd stayed up all night or been hit with a Cheering Charm. She made him happy, and he instinctively wanted to make her happy too. He wanted to crack stupid jokes to make her smile. He wanted to be the one who made her eyes light up. He hesitated to call it love, but he knew how he felt about Laine.
Harry'd had an abnormal childhood, and that was putting it mildly. He'd never really known what love was. He supposed Vernon and Petunia loved each other after a fashion, but the way they spoiled Dudley was certainly not healthy. On the whole, they were not good role models. Without any social interaction, he'd never had a positive example.
That had all changed once he'd met the Malfoy family. Even though he'd since learned about Mr. Malfoy being a former Death Eater, it was clear that he loved and doted on his wife. Whenever he spoke of her, his voice was filled with respect, and when he watched her, his eyes were gentle. Mrs. Malfoy was forever touching her husband on the shoulder, elbow, or face, not even needing words to communicate her love.
Harry wanted that for himself someday. He was still very young, and while it was still too far in the future to be thinking in terms of forever, he liked Laine a lot. He was interested to see what their relationship had in store. She certainly seemed to understand him very well. She was easy to talk to, but silence didn't bother her. She was talented, both magically and otherwise. The painting she'd given him for Christmas definitely didn't seem done by an amateur.
He was very relieved that she liked the locket. He'd been so anxious that the bit of jewelry might be too much, or that she'd think he was dumb for not being able to fix the mechanism. Laine's opinion was important to him, and he didn't want to look like a fool in front of her.
Dear Laine,
The painting is amazing. As the Hufflepuffs would say, galactic. Stellar. I had no idea you were so good! Why wouldn't you ever show me your work before? You've got talent, girl!
I miss you too. I'll never last until the train ride. Will you be arriving at the station early? Perhaps we could claim a compartment for ourselves for awhile. I long to hold you in my arms again.
Yours,
Harry
Amongst the many good things that being on holiday enabled was that Harry got a chance to visit with Elan. Ever since he'd finished school, the elder Malfoy brother had been quite the socialite. He stayed out all night carousing with high society, making connections with influential people, and generally acting as the heir to a noble family ought behave. He had, that is, until the outbreak of war. His father had gone out on the night of Voldemort's return, found him, and sent him to the safety of Hogwarts. When the security of the secret had been confirmed, he'd returned home to Malfoy Manor.
"I've spent every day for the past six months going out of my mind. All I do is lay about. My days are filled with books and music. I've read so much lately I think my eyes are about to dry up and fall out. I've listened to every music crystal I own a hundred times over. I can sing every song. I could probably play them all, and I only play the piano. Christmas has been wonderful. I'm so glad to have people around again. I've been so lonely."
Elan sounded frustrated and bitter. Harry didn't need any help picking up on the older boy's moodiness with the way he was throwing his dumbells around.
"You haven't been coming over here regularly?" Harry said. Today's visit was the first Elan had made during the holiday other than Christmas itself.
Elan put his weights down and wiped his sweaty brow. "No, it's not that. Sirius and I have been lifting weights several times a week, but I haven't seen anyone other than him, Mother, Father, and Lupin since September. I don't interact with the Order people. Mother has restricted them to the east wing of the manor. I don't see them much anyway. There's nothing any of them would have to say to me since I can't even go outside without risking my neck. I'm just glad to see Draco, and you, Harry. How come you haven't visited me?"
"I've just been glad to be home. School is being brutal. I've got prefect meetings, Quidditch, duelling club, and so on."
"How goes the OWL year?"
"It's hell. All the teachers seem to think the only test we're going to take is in their subject."
"My hand has nearly fallen off a couple of times," Draco chimed in.
"You say there's a new duelling club?" Elan sounded curious now. Harry couldn't remember Elan ever having much of a proclivity for defence.
"That's great fun. To be able to hex other students while the professors smile approvingly? It doesn't get any better."
"Are you improving your duelling skills?"
"Considerably. I can cast continuously for nearly twice as long now. My aim is better."
"Mine too. I can cast faster." Draco wasn't boasting too much.
"Lifting more weight yet? What are you up to now?"
"More than Draco," Harry said with a snicker.
"Only by ten pounds!"
"Are the ladies noticing?"
"You bet," Draco replied. "Harry hadn't been broken up with Padma for more than five minutes before Laine was catching his eye."
"Any luck on finding a new girl, Draco?"
"I'm not really trying. I'm far too busy with my obligations to worry about trying to make a girl happy. I've come to the conclusion that it's impossible to achieve anyway."
"Not if you've found the right one. I can always make Bridget happy."
"So is she the right one?"
"Maybe. Of course I'd have to spend some time with her to be able to tell for sure."
"I thought you two were pretty close?"
"We have been. I was starting to look at engagement rings when the war broke out. That's actually where I was when Father found me. Now, though, I wonder. I haven't been able to see her in person for months. She thinks I'm avoiding her, and the first two pages of every letter I write is spent telling her how much I miss her and want to be with her. It's true, but a fellow shouldn't have to say it so much."
"Parvati threw plenty of fits because I couldn't see her. I hope Bridget doesn't take a page from her book."
"Thanks. Me too. I think I would be considerably more upset over Bridget than you were about Parvati."
"I'm sure you would be. Isn't it nearly lunchtime?"
"I want a shower before anything else," Harry said. He'd worked up quite a sweat.
Freshly washed, the three boys made their way to the dining room, where Sirius, Remus, and Lucius were already sitting down. Kreacher was just serving sliced turkey sandwiches.
"I have given the matter of Voldemort's blood some thought," Mr. Malfoy said. "We must use this knowledge to our best effect. His message of pureblood superiority and dominance will be proven a lie if the truth becomes known. We will make the public see that all he seeks is power for himself and his own glory. He will use any ideology to achieve it. To expose him, we must use our friends in the media. I have working relationships with several reporters, but for something this important, I trust only Rita Skeeter."
"The woman has absolutely no scruples," Sirius observed.
"Which happens to be exactly what we need right now."
"Will she do it?"
"Yes. Rita is quite fond of Harry."
"A thought that scares the hell out of me."
"If he wants to put the information out there, she will publish his words."
"Then let us set a meeting."
"Father, I should also like to go out this weekend."
"Out of the question. You know it is far too dangerous for you to leave the house."
"You just said you were going to set up a meeting between Rita and Harry!"
"That's different. This is critical to the war effort. We will take every precaution, and it is only because Rita is such an old friend of mine that we're letting Harry take the risk."
"I'll be careful. I don't plan to go out in public, just to see a few friends in private."
"It could be a trap. You could be ambushed." Mr. Malfoy looked sick at the very thought.
Elan let out a slow breath. "I can take precautions. Father-"
"No, listen to me, Elan. There is no way to assure your safety."
"Wasn't Harry able to have a meeting? He went and met with his mates' dads."
"One of them tried to kill him at that meeting. If Sirius hadn't been ready for treachery, it could have ended very badly. Moreover, there were Aurors present that day, something you don't have access to."
"You could arrange it. Ask some of your friends in the Ministry."
"If the matter were important enough, I would. What is it you want to accomplish?"
"I haven't been able to go out for months, Father. I need to maintain my connections with the others."
"Has your quill lost its eloquence? Your very name means style."
"It is not my failing, but theirs. They require the periodic reassurance of my presence."
"I am not about to have the Ministry waste valuable manpower in order to babysit your social outings, Elan. You'll just have to spend more time in your correspondence."
"Father, I completely understand your wish to keep me safe. I just believe I am being wasted locked up here. People talk to me; they trust me and, with time, will confide in me. I would be of far more use gathering information," he said, in a calm and respectful voice. "It's not just that I want to see my friends. I want to contribute to the war effort in some way - in any way! I'm going mad being shut up. I need to do something!"
Mr. Malfoy's glare could have frozen Butterbeer. "Elan, trust that I have already considered and rejected such possibilities long ago. If there was a way you could be of use outside the manor, I would have already informed you of it," he said in a dangerously soft tone.
Elan must have recognized that his father would brook no further arguments along this line, so he changed his tact.
"I must be able to see Bridget, at least. I know you approve of her. I'm starting to forget what her voice sounds like. All I have to sustain me are my memories. I haven't seen her for nearly six months, and I'm really serious about her, Father. Do you know I'm thinking of asking her to marry me?"
"Finally!" Mr. Malfoy said with clear relief. "Your mother will be so pleased."
"If I keep neglecting her, she won't say yes. I must find a wife and carry on the family line. You've told me so many times.
"I have."
"So I may see her?"
"No. Your safety could not be assured."
"I can look after myself, Father."
"Not against Death Eaters."
"I can Apparate very quickly."
"If they set the anti-Apparation spells?"
"Then I run. When I get beyond the field, I Apparate. I fight my way free if I have to."
"You would not stand a chance against even the worst of the Death Eaters. If you're truly bored, you should take the opportunity to become a better spellcaster. Your OWL and NEWT grades were not perfect, after all."
"Have you so little faith in me, Father?"
"Elan, you are my son, and I love you. Please know that I say these things not out of a lack of faith in your abilities but out of a surety of the cruelty of the enemy."
"Can we not out-think them? There must be a way."
"Absolutely not, Elan. For the last time, no. Do not ask me again."
Elan broke his father's gaze. He took a large swallow of water. "May I be excused?"
"Yes," Mr. Malfoy said with a sigh.
"Me too?" Harry asked.
"Go on, then."
Harry followed as Elan stalked down the hall to the arsenal. Draco was just a step behind as they caught the swinging door.
Elan threw himself into a chair, scowling darkly. "Bloody war," he muttered. "Bloody Dark Lord. I hate this stupid war. I hate being cooped up in the house. I can't go anywhere, can't see anyone. I can't even join the bloody Order because I'm really of no use. I'm not particularly skilled with magic. All I am is a family name and a charming personality, and ruggedly handsome, of course. All I do is write letters to my friends."
"It'll be all right, Elan."
"Easy for you to say, Draco. You're not the one whose girlfriend is going to break up with him because she never sees him."
"No, but I had my girlfriend dump me because I wouldn't tell her what I knew about the war effort. Stop feeling sorry for yourself."
"I'm going to see Bridget anyway," Elan suddenly declared. "Father will never know."
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that."
"All I have to do is Apparate from home during an Order meeting. Mother will never miss me. As long as I'm quick, I think I should be fine. Even a few minutes are better than nothing."
"You're going to get caught."
"Not if you cover for me."
"Now you're dragging me into this?"
"What are brothers for?"
"A fair point. I suppose I could, but I'll most likely be at school. Unless there's a meeting set for this week?"
"I wouldn't know," Elan practically growled. "Damn, I feel useless! I don't even know anything! Every day, I send an owl to all of my friends, and I pray that I'll get a reply from them. I can't live with this worry. I can't stand not knowing if today will be the day that they die."
"Are you really prepared to deal with Father's wrath when you get caught?"
"He's already packed me off to Durmstrang. What else can he possibly do to me?"
"What about Mother? Her fury is even worse."
Harry had seen Mr. Malfoy angry before, but never Mrs. Malfoy. He didn't know how she could possibly be worse than her husband.
Harry and Draco did their best to talk Elan out of his ill-conceived plan for a couple of hours and finally appeared to have gotten through to him. When they got on brooms to practice the close-quarters manouvres, he took up his quill to once more exercise his eloquence.
The following day at around noontime, Harry sat in a private booth at the Leaky Cauldron. Sirius was with to him, with Remus a few seats away. In the event of emergency, Sirius had an illegal Portkey that would carry Harry to the park near Grimmauld Place, and Harry could Apparate himself to safety from there.
The blonde, curly-haired witch approaching the table was a few years older than Mr. Malfoy but didn't look a day over thirty. Her large blue eyes saw scandal everywhere, and a natural squareness to her jaw complemented her no-nonsense attitude and fierce tenacity. She was sharply dressed in a tight green sweater and had a white fur-lined cloak pulled up tight.
"Rita," Harry said warmly.
"Harry, my dear," the reporter replied, removing her cloak and hanging it up. "So good to see you."
"And you. All is well?"
"Very well. I've been busy with all of these Death Eater attacks. Nothing particularly scandalous, I'm afraid. Nothing until recently, anyway. Your friend Crabbe's father is finally ready to make a confession. There's a Wizengamot session scheduled for Monday morning."
"Confession? He finally broke?" Sirius interjected.
"Sirius Black, so good to finally meet you. You've been dodging me for the past year and a half." Rita smiled wickedly. "Yes, he broke. Those new cells they have at the Ministry are worlds better than the old prison. It took a little bit, but he's ready to sing like a canary."
"Good to hear," Harry replied. "I'm very curious as to why he thought it would be smart to try killing me in public."
"Myself as well. I'll be right there in the courtroom to get the full story."
"That's excellent, Rita. I know you'll give it all the sensation it deserves."
"Naturally, but that's Monday. What can I do for you today? The world's greatest journalist is always ready to help out a friend."
"Let's order drinks first."
Sirius ordered a hot tea with lemon. Harry got a hot chocolate with whipped cream. Rita's drink was a soda water with kiwi syrup.
"Thank you again for coming, Rita," Harry said. "There's nobody else we could possibly turn to in this matter. It's very exclusive, very dangerous."
Rita leaned in eagerly. "You've come to the right place, Harry. I live for exciting scoops."
"I know Voldemort's true name."
Rita spilled her drink.
"How?" she asked breathlessly.
Sirius tapped the puddle with his wand and Vanished the mess. He tapped her glass, and it refilled itself.
"Long story. Voldemort-" she flinched again "-came out of nowhere about thirty years ago. He preached about purity of blood, damned all Muggles and Muggleborns, and wanted to purify the world. Yet he himself is not a pureblood."
"What?!" Were it not for the Privacy Charm that Sirius had cast, the whole pub surely would have turned in their direction.
"It's true. His real name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. You won't find any record of a wizard with that name, because Tom Riddle Senior was a Muggle."
"A Muggle?!" Poor Rita was having quite a shocking day.
"Yes. Voldemort's father was a Muggle, and his mum was a witch. The vaunted Lord Voldemort is, as he would term it, a Mudblood. Even I, with a Muggleborn mother, have purer magical blood than the most feared Dark wizard in an age."
Rita was frantically scratching with her quill.
"His mother got involved with a local minor noble. They married, but when she told him she was magical, he ran off and left her pregnant and alone. She left her baby on the doorstep of a Muggle orphanage and went off to die. Tom Junior was a wizard, though, so he went to Hogwarts. He was a Slytherin, and-"
"Slytherin? A halfblood in Slytherin?"
"Yes. We're not all purebloods. Vis, me."
"Of course."
"He was a Slytherin and eventually became a prefect and Head Boy. This is all in the school records. In his fifth year, he discovered the location of the Chamber of Secrets-"
"The Chamber of Secrets?!"
"Yes. He had the gift of Parseltongue, Slytherin's own talent, which let him open the Chamber and release the basilisk inside. He used it to murder Myrtle Henderson. The school was about to be closed when he framed Rubeus Hagrid for it all. Hagrid was raising a baby Acromantula in a room in the dungeons, and-"
"Not surprising."
"No, not at all. Hagrid got blamed and expelled. Then Riddle just kept his head down and finished school. Then he went off on a search for power. Nobody really heard from him after that. Then this fellow calling himself Voldemort showed up and starting causing trouble."
"Fascinating," Rita mumbled, quill scratching away.
"He hates his father's name, so he made up a new one for himself. Then he started to hate people using his fake name, so all of this 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' rot started. He's got a lot of real problems."
"Apparently so. Oh, this is wonderful stuff, Harry."
"His whole Dark Lord schtick is nothing more than a charade. He's not interested in anything other than his own power. I urge the purebloods to reconsider their politics. Even if they sincerely believe they are right, don't follow a lie."
"I'm going to get an award for this. I'd better. If I publish this, my life will be in danger."
"Will you be safe, Rita?" Harry asked. "Do you need help?"
"Oh, this reporter knows a few things. I always need to be able to escape from a tight spot. Don't you worry yourself about me."
Rita finished her notes and rolled up the parchment. She tied a string around the scroll and tucked it into her black leather handbag. She put her quill to a fresh sheet.
"Now, Sirius," she said breathlessly. "Every unmarried witch under the age of forty-five, as well as a great many of the married ones, has been desperate to learn more about you. You were falsely imprisoned, a tragic victim of the war. You escaped at last, cleared your name, and sought to discharge your responsibilities as Harry's guardian. It is an astonishing tale, one that makes witches weepy with emotion. Such love, such devotion, and such devastating eyes make knees go weak. You are a wizard worth the having. What the world wants to know, Sirius, is what you are seeking in a witch. Stunning beauty? Magical talent? Homemaking skills? Are you looking for some good home cooking?"
"None of the above," Sirius said firmly.
"Is the famous Sirius Black no longer interested in witches?" Rita asked in an astonished voice. "Is he playing Quidditch for the other team now?"
Sirius scoffed. "No, Rita, nothing like that. I just don't have time to date. There's no sense in getting anyone's hopes up."
"What would it hurt to tell my readers what it is that might catch your eye? At least then, those who wouldn't make the cut can try to stop pining and find a more attainable husband."
"Nice try, Rita. More likely, the desperate ones would try to remake themselves into what I want."
"You're a clever enough wizard to winnow them out."
"Good sense of humour, must like flying, open-minded, and within three inches of my own height. Pet lovers only. Is that enough for you, Rita?"
"Certainly," she said with a purr. "You've just made me a very tidy sum. Thank you."
"Do I get a cut?"
Rita laughed merrily. "Whatever would you need it for?"
Following the revelation from Rita, Sirius went to the Ministry to poke around for information. He returned shortly before tea and found Harry in the drawing room with Remus and Mr. Malfoy.
"Rita was right. Crabbe finally made a confession."
"The new cells really did it," Harry marvelled.
"Yes. Voldemort put all sorts of spells in his mind to prevent us from using Veritaserum or any other coersive methods. Only his own will was enough to speak it, and Crabbe is not an imaginative man. He couldn't contemplate anything worse than his master's wrath. The new holding cell has been quite effective at breaking down his resistance. When they went to give him breakfast one morning, he was gibbering at the door, talking about the voices in the abyss. His wits had deserted him, but they took him to an interior cell. When he calmed down, he said he was ready to make a full confession. He's still a bit twitchy, but he signed his name to a dictated statement."
"Why did he try to kill me?"
"It was Voldemort's idea. Crabbe went right to him with your letter about a meeting. He was to keep you talking long enough to get his wand out and use the Killing Curse on you."
"I thought Voldemort wanted to kill me himself."
"He's gotten over it. He has his body back. The important thing now is that you die. If Crabbe was able to do it, think of the effect it would have on morale. He was a common grunt. Can you imagine a headline like 'Meathead Slays Boy-Who-Lived'? It'd be a coup. If it failed, if you were able to beat the curse a second time, then Voldemort would have gained knowledge."
"What about what actually happened? We caught Crabbe and put him in prison."
"No great loss. He's not important to Voldemort at all."
"He doesn't care any about his followers."
"No. There are a hundred others just like him who can be recruited. Younger, probably smarter, too."
"How many Death Eaters does he have, do we think?"
"Lucius?"
"I estimate somewhere in the vicinity of seventy or so. He had about a dozen answer the call that night, and there were a dozen he freed from their cells. The rest of the inmates were likely offered the choice of service or death."
"They were. Severus reports that nearly all of them accepted."
"More the fools, they," Mr. Malfoy said softly.
"Indeed." Sirius changed the subject. "How are you coming with your Apparition, Harry?"
"Not bad. I haven't had much of a chance to practice, but I went from floor to floor yesterday with Mister Malfoy calling numbers."
"I saw. How about longer distances?"
"I haven't had a chance to try for distance," Harry admitted.
"Perhaps we should arrange some further training in that regard. Draco managed to Appararate himself here from Wiltshire on Christmas. Do you think you could make it to the manor?"
"Maybe. I think I know it fairly well."
"The only safe place to Apparate is to the front foyer," Mr. Malfoy said. "Do you remember the family seal?"
The green and black shield with the silver 'M' popped vividly into Harry's mind.
"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper."
"Purity Always Conquers. Aside from the fountain in the courtyard, that is the only spot on the entire property where one may Apparate to. It is the only place inside the manor itself. Anywhere else will redirect you someplace very nasty."
"I'll remember."
"Sirius, you should be on the other end in case Harry Splinches himself."
"I haven't done that in months!" Harry protested.
"You haven't been doing it in months," Mr. Malfoy shot back. "Let's play it safe."
"I'd be glad to help, Harry," Sirius said. "Tomorrow morning?"
"Sounds good."
DARK LIAR! YOU-KNOW-WHO'S PAST REVEALED!
by Rita Skeeter
Purebloods everywhere will shudder to learn the full depth of deception by the so-called Dark Lord. Information has come to light revealing that the great advocate of pureblood superiority is himself nothing more than a filthy Mudblood.
Tom Riddle, a former Slytherin prefect and Hogwarts Head Boy, was the son of a pureblood witch and the Muggle she entranced. When the relationship imploded, she left the babe at a Muggle orphanage, where he lived until he received his Hogwarts letter. He distinguished himself in school, earning the praise of all his professors. Everyone thought this bright and rising star would have an amazing future. Yet he disappeared shortly after finishing his education, and no one ever heard from him again.
Or so we thought.
Thirty years ago, we first began hearing rumours of a pureblood fanatic whose name was only whispered with the darkest fear. Voldemort. Scourge of Muggles and Muggleborns. Little did we know that the promising student had spent his time away delving deep into the Darkness, becoming something twisted and evil.
He launched a war against our society, determined to remake it according to his own fantastical imagination. Many were duped into following him. Many were bewitched into doing his bidding. Hundreds died. All for a lie.
Voldemort's fall, see page 4
Voldemort's return, see page 5
Muggleborn Home memorial service, see page 8
Riddle's Special Award to be retracted?, see page 5
The next day, Harry scarfed down a small breakfast as he read the paper. He still wasn't capable of Apparating on a full stomach. There was no sense in wasting perfectly good food.
"It'll have to be a short session, I'm afraid," Sirius apologized. "Dumbledore's called a meeting."
"Oh good."
"I'm curious to hear if there have been any new developments."
"Keep me informed."
"Of course."
Sirius popped over to Malfoy Manor, leaving Harry and Mr. Malfoy in the drawing room.
Harry closed his eyes and thought about the seal, picturing every detail of it in his mind. He thought about Sirius standing there waiting for him and how much he wanted to be with Sirius, to stand next to him. He turned on the spot and Disapparated.
He stumbled heavily as he landed in the foyer. Sirius caught him and held him up.
"Easy, kiddo. You did it. No missing bits?"
"I feel fine," Harry said breathlessly. He couldn't stop grinning with exhilaration.
"Well done. Feel like going back?"
"In a minute. I think I might need a drink of water. Dobby!"
The house elf appeared with a soft bang.
"Mister Harry Potter, sir, how may Dobby serve you?"
"I'm very thirsty. Please get me a glass of water."
"Dobby is getting the water!"
The little elf was back in a flash, and the water was so cold that drops formed on the outside of the glass.
"Thanks," Harry said, taking a long swallow.
Dobby's eyes got very wide, and he bowed several times before disappearing.
"Okay," Harry said, summoning his resolve. "I'm ready."
Harry pictured the drawing room, with the fire crackling cheerfully. He thought about the family tree, and how happy he was to be included on it. He turned on the spot and Disapparated.
"Steady, Harry," Mr. Malfoy said, guiding him to a chair. "I didn't expect you back so quickly. Are you all right?"
"Ow, ow, ow!" Harry said, clutching at his left arm. He pulled up his sleeve and saw an ugly red gash.
"This was very close," Mr. Malfoy tutted, casting a Healing Charm. "You pushed yourself too hard."
"I need to learn this."
"Take a rest."
Sirius Apparated into the room. "All right, Harry?"
"I will be. I'm knackered, though."
"You should take a nap and get some rest. I'll be back later."
"Would you bring me back, actually? Draco and I were going to work on our Potions essay."
"Of course. Lucius, we'll see you later."
Harry quickly retrieved his bag and returned to the drawing room. Sirius held out his hand, and they were away with a flash. Remus appeared a second later.
"Have fun," Harry said.
Sirius chuckled. "You too." He headed for the ballroom.
Harry went upstairs and knocked on Draco's door.
"Ah, Harry, you're here. Good. Maybe you can convince Elan how dumb an idea it is to sneak out today."
"I thought we'd had this discussion."
"Apparently it didn't sink in."
"We talked for two hours."
"I know."
"Elan, it's way too dangerous."
"I need to do this, Harry. I've got to follow my heart. I love Bridget, and I want her to marry me."
"You're really serious, aren't you?"
"As much as I ever have been. I don't know how I'm going to be able to buy a ring, but when I do, I'll ask her that very night. In the meanwhile, I'll see her tonight. Naturally, you'll help Draco cover for me."
With all that Elan had done for Harry in the past, there was only one real answer. Friends and family stuck with each other, even if - especially if - one thought they were wrong
"I will. I think it's a bad idea, but I'll help if you're really determined."
"Thanks, Harry. I owe you one."
"I know you do."
The meeting began promptly at seven o'clock. Harry and Draco went in the secret passage to listen in while Elan Disapparated.
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice. I'm sure you all saw the headline of the Prophet this morning."
"Where did this report come from, Dumbledore?" asked Shacklebolt.
"I'm not sure where Rita got her information."
"Is it accurate?"
"So far as I know."
"This is a good thing, isn't it?" asked Tonks. "He'll have a harder time finding recruits if he can't pretend to be a pureblood anymore."
"It is good for the public to know," Dumbledore admitted. "My worry is how Voldemort will react to this revelation."
"That could be rather ugly," she said, her hair fading from pink to brown. "We'd better up the alert level, Kingsley."
"There is some good news," Dumbledore continued. "Lucius Malfoy managed to make contact with one of the Unspeakables and warn them about the potential theft of the prophecy. Even though they have no particular political agenda, the Unspeakables have no desire to see Voldemort win. While any person named in prophecy isnormally allowed to retrieve it, his monstrous crimes have put him outside the bounds of even their neutrality. They will be posting guards on the Hall of Prophecy."
"Does this mean we can stop finding excuses to hang around that door?"
"No. Our greatest efforts are not sufficient to protect the prophecy, and we dare not relax a bit."
"Harry!" hissed Draco suddenly. "Isn't that-"
"Percy!"
"When did he join the Order?"
"I have no idea."
"I wonder if Elan knows."
The meeting continued on. It was fairly boring, routine stuff. Shifts of guard duty were reorganized. Order recruitement efforts were on the rise. Kingsley reported that Auror recruits were doing well. While it wasn't quite as dull as a prefect meeting, Harry found his attention wandering. Even before an hour had passed, Draco was pulling Harry away from the peephole.
"We've got to go stand guard for Elan. He said he'd be back about now."
Harry and Draco took up positions on the opposite hallways. The coast was clear. They waited nearly ten minutes.
Elan returned with a slight pop. He quickly stepped off the seal and over to his brother.
"Thanks."
"You owe me. Huge."
"I know. Let's get upstairs."
"Did you have fun?"
"Rather. She was delighted to see me. It was minutes before we came up for air."
"So she doesn't think you want to break up with her."
"Not anymore. She wasn't pleased we had so little time, but she was thankful for what we did have. She's a good woman."
Harry hadn't spent the full moon with the Marauders since the beginning of October. Three months was a long time, and he couldn't wait to run again. Being able to take his father's place meant more to him than he could ever put into words. His only regret was that they could not run free. They were confined to a small room in the basement of the house using both magic and metal.
It was not just the werewolf and the Animagi who were keeping track of the lunar calendar. Mr. Malfoy raised the subject at dinner that night.
"You all certainly are ravenous. Then again, I suppose it's to be expected. It is the full moon, tonight, is it not?"
"Yes, Lucius, it is."
"Will you three be going down to the basement again?"
"That was the plan," Harry said. "It's been too long.
Mr. Malfoy shook his head. "I don't understand how three animals can be content in that cell."
"It's not easy," Sirius said, and a slow grin began on his face, "but fortunately, an alternative has been suggested."
"Oh yes? What is that?"
"Do you think you could give me some assistance with the Extension Charms? I can't get it to stabilize for some reason."
"Yes, that would most certainly solve your space requirements. I shall see to it after dinner."
"Good. Thank you, Lucius."
"You are welcome. Sirius."
Harry couldn't believe the adults were being so friendly. He'd worked very hard to get them to this point and thought he might burst from sheer satisfaction.
After they'd all finished dessert, everyone headed for the basement kitchen.
Sirius opened the door to the reinforced room and stepped inside. Mr. Malfoy followed him. Harry leaned in to watch. Sirius pointed at the corners.
"You see how the spellform has collapsed?"
"Yes, that's quite strange. Let me try casting the spell myself."
As Mr. Malfoy lifted his wand, Sirius stepped back and out of the way. Then he ducked out of the door entirely and slammed it shut. He activated the locks with a single word of magic.
"Sirius!"
His godfather was laughing uproariously as Mr. Malfoy started shouting from inside the cell.
"Black! This has been very funny. Now open the door and let me out."
"Sorry, Lucius, but this is my house, and I want the free run of it tonight. Call it a moon party, and you can't meet the dress code. Hence, you're going to spend the night in here. You've got your wand. Feel free to conjure yourself anything you need to make yourself comfortable. Send for Kreacher if you get hungry or thirsty."
"Black!"
"Let's go, Harry."
"I can't believe you did that!"
"It was your idea."
"I still don't believe you actually did it."
"It's a great prank. He'll be fine for the night, and we'll get to run around the house like we did before he got here."
After a night of dashing at top speed from one end of the mansion to the other, Chitter, Padfoot, and Moony collapsed in a pile in the middle of the hall on the ground floor. The wolf finally fell asleep once the moon set. His breathing became regular and calm. Chitter and Padfoot stayed awake only long enough to insure that Moony was not going to jump up again. It would have been fine if he did; the wolf could not escape from the house, but there were many breakable things in most rooms. It was nearly noon when Chitter finally opened his eyes again. He was still exhausted, but he felt like he might be able to stand and make his way up to his bedroom.
He changed back into a boy and shook Sirius by the shoulder. "Hey, Padfoot. Wake up. It's time to go to bed."
Sirius' eyes opened slowly. He yawned hugely. "Good morning, Chitter. Give me a moment."
"Sure. I'll go let Mister Malfoy out."
"That might be for the best. I'm sure it will take him a few days to calm down at me."
Harry went down to the locked room in the basement. He tapped his wand against the latch, and the door creaked open.
Mr. Malfoy was inside, sitting at a dark wooden table. He was sipping delicately from a cup of tea, and a half-eaten plate of scones was before him.
"Good morning, Harry. So good to see you."
"Mister Malfoy. Not too worse for wear, I hope?"
"Certainly not."
Mr. Malfoy exited the room and took a seat at the long kitchen table.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"No, sir."
"Would you join me?"
"Thank you, sir. How was your night?"
"Once I was through shouting and cursing your godfather's name, I did my best to try to escape. Whomever designed this cell was quite thorough. That made me start swearing all over again, and when I finally calmed down, I decided I may as well be comfortable. I called for a padded chair and a bottle of Superior Red from the family apothecary. I paid some attention to the accounts and wrote several letters to my suppliers. My business taken care of, I read several hundred pages for pleasure. When I grew tired, I Transfigured the chair into a fine bed and sought my rest. I've slept better, believe me."
"Have you been waiting long?"
"A short time. I turned the bed into this table and chair, called for breakfast, and have been anticipating my release."
"I'm sorry about that, sir. Sirius thought it would be funny."
"I'm sure he did. I am slowly becoming accustomed to his particular brand of humour."
Mr. Malfoy seemed quite bothered by the small prank.
"I really hope you're not mad. Sirius meant it in good fun."
"I've never much been one for pranks. Father had little use for them. He was a very stern man."
Harry still felt very tired. The combination of little sleep and running around all night left him feeling very wrung out. He did his best to keep up intelligent conversation.
"There wasn't any harm. You didn't lack for anything."
"This is true. I suppose he could have done much worse."
"I asked him not to."
"Then I owe you my thanks."