Chapter 32 - His Struggle
Harry knew it was his fault.
Sirius was dead, and it was his fault.
His fault.
Harry didn't want to be here anymore. He didn't want to be in Hogwarts… But he didn't want to be anywhere else in magical Britain either... And going back to the muggle world, going home to the Dursley's, that wasn't much appealing either… He didn't want to be… on earth. Really, he just didn't… want to be, anymore.
XOXOXOX
Severus's wand had snapped in three places from his fall, while The Brat stood frozen, head bowed over the dead man… Naive fool.
Severus heard something slithering near the end of the hall, and blasted it with a wordless, wandless Explosion Charm, aimed a few inches above the ground. He heard the crash of exploding mortar, a hiss, and the rubbing of winding scales on smooth brick. He had missed. Hardly surprising when he couldn't use his vision to ascertain the location of the basilisk, but it was unavoidable. Meeting the enemy's eyes-
'Lily's eyes.'
Black had sacri-
Why had he?
Because he was a fool. Obviou-
The basilisk lunged.
Severus snarled, and exploded the ceiling with a simple utterance of, "bombarda." Debris crashed down. A hiss, and the serpent fled.
Why had The Dark Lord asked them to come to him, to steal The Stone for him, and then attacked them immediately? A lesser mind would think it illogical.
Severus was no half-wit, he knew the answer. The Dark Lord no longer saw him as an ally. Instead, he was another obstacle to be eliminated. His cover was blown. And with that, Severus no longer held value to The Order. His last hope of providing something of value to the world, of contributing to The Dark Lord's demise, had seeped out of his cauldron like liquid helium cooled to absolute zero…
To give your life for a spy with a blown cover. A fitting end to such a pitiable life. Perhaps Black had done it out of spite. He had taken away Severus's hatred. Just one more thing lost in the blight of his mistaken existence.
Severus did still maintain a modicum of cunning however, and much experience. The Dark Lord could not steal the stone himself. Therefore, The Dark Lord required someone to steal it for him. Granger.
Could she do it? Perhaps.
Should she? Yes.
Would she be murdered? Yes.
Did Severus wish her dead? Yes.
Did that matter? No.
Would Lily have wished her dead? No.
Did that matter? Yes.
He needed to warn Granger of The Dark Lord's little known streak of ill-natured trickery. He needed to get back to The Slytherin Common Room. He turned. And was greeted by the open fangs of a lunging reticulated python.
"Diffindo," Severus snapped, feeling somewhat numb.
The python- had it just swatted his cutting curse into the ceiling? But that should have been impossible. Serpents didn't have that kind of control over magic. She glanced at The Brat, hissed, and disappeared down the hallway. A maledictus?
"It's calling for the other one sir," said Potter.
Indeed. At the very least it had humanlike intelligence. The python was far more dangerous than the basilisk.
"Potter," Severus spat. He swallowed his pride. "I will hold off The Dark Lord's snakes. You must find Granger. Tell her that The Dark Lord will try to…"
Negotiate in bad faith. He would not allow a threat to his power to remain. She had to be aware of his tricks. The Dark Lord often told the truth, truths others feared, which made his lies all the more insidious. And tonight he would not be telling the half-truths that so fascinated those that thought themselves clever, he would be outright lying. As soon as she provided him the philosopher's stone he would simply murder her in cold blood, and then he would inevitably reignite the war. It had run cold in The Dark Lord's absence, but The Dark Lord had never stopped maneuvering. His forces were already in place. Dumbledore, through no fault of his own, was ignorant in ways that would lead to the light's defeat. Perhaps The Brat would stop The Dark Lord in a few years, as was prophesied, but by then everything Lily had held dear would be destroyed. Granger was the only one with the combination of skill, will, and knowledge necessary to thwart The Dark Lord's plan. She had to negotiate for her life cautiously, meticulously, and wisely. She must pay attention-to-detail, do the busy, tedious work of securing her own safety. She must not purposely leave a loophole to make things more interesting. She had to be cautious, restrained, and paranoid. Otherwise, she must negotiate with careful wisdom.
Granger would not listen. Severus knew her type well, as he dealt with it daily. He could not simply tell her what The Dark Lord was planning. Direct insight into the enemy ruined the challenge of her game, ruined her fun, which would be truly such a shame. Why if only there was a charm that could undo such an unforgivable spoiler… No, to just tell them in a straight-forward manner would be unproductive. Hints, intimations, that was their way.
"Tell her that The Dark Lord desires to be known as a man who steals," Severus said, carefully. "Whether it be a certain stone, an entire government, or something much, much more dangerous. Indeed, it is perhaps his defining trait, if of course, you disregard the 'a'. And perhaps ask her if she's been reading The Quibbler recently… They've been reporting something, somewhere very, very… precious."
That ought to be pointlessly vague enough to pique her interests and seem a fair challenge. "Now, repeat my message back to me. Even a single word out of place might compromise the entire world."
"With respect," said The Brat. "Tell her yourself."
"Listen… Boy," Severus said softly, grabbing The Boy by the collar. "There are more important things than one worthless life. You will find Granger-"
"No sir," said the silly, foolish Boy. "I'm not abandoning you."
Severus's anger ran cold.
"I was a death eater. I know Lord Voldemort's true purpose. I've done things unforgivable," Severus whispered softly. "I am responsible for Lily's- for your mother's- death... Now… Go to Granger and deliver the message. It will save Her world."
The Boy trembled, but held firm. "No sir. I'm not leaving you to die."
Severus took a step back.
Lily's son's green eyes were resolute. Those beautiful eyes… so caring… so full of love… Of which Severus had deserved not even a planck length.
Severus slapped all that was left of Lily. "GO! NOW! DON'T MAKE ME REPEAT MYSELF BOY!"
"I…" Lily's son said quietly, trembling, tucked away in the corner… "Yessir."
Had Lily's son always… Been so skinny? So pathetic? So terrified? … So snivelling?
And several memories came rushing back to Severus. Memories that had always served to anger Severus, which had allowed him to loathe Lily's son even more than James.
Their first meeting.
'Potter!' Severus had said. 'What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?'
'I don't know sir,' Lily's son had said.
'Tut, tut - clearly fame isn't everything.'
Lily's son curled in on himself and said… nothing. Nothing? Not a word to defend himself? Impossible.
Severus had seethed.
A detention.
'Too clean Potter. Only a fool would want his class completely sterile. Five points from Gryffindor. I should give you another detention for such shoddy work, but alas, I find my patience wearing thin... Well, what are you waiting for? Get out.'
And Lily's son hadn't exploded in anger, he hadn't turned one of Severus's curses back on him, he'd… He'd simply… left. It defied reason.
Severus had smoldered.
A punishment.
'Gossiping about schoolgirls,' Severus has said. 'No doubt pressured into it by Potter… You're not the sort to do things yourself, Longbottom. Only what you're told. So stop trembling, I won't take any points from you. Ten points from Gryffindor Potter, and a week's detention.'
Lily's son had said. 'I'm sorry my dad bullied you sir, but I'm really not like-'
'Two weeks detention,' Severus had said.
And finally… finally… Still nothing…
Potter had not even protested under his breath. Severus had left, barely able to contain his rage.
Potter… Potter had just taken it?
Why? Why, why, why? WHY!?
James Potter would have never stood for Severus's abuse. He was above the rules. But in Severus's darker moments he could admit that Lily would have never stood for it either. He had been being terribly unfair afterall.
But Lily's son had never stood up to Severus's abuse. Severus could feel the hatred Lily's son had felt for him, simmering underneath his eyes. And yet… Just now…
Severus had slapped the boy, and he'd… He'd…
Lily's son scurried to the corner of the hall, and curled inwards. Hunched over and small. A…
A practiced reaction.
The realization hit Severus harder than any of Tobias's blows: This wasn't the first time Harry had been struck.
The boy had Severus's fear, and yet he had Lily's eyes.
Lily's beautiful, caring eyes.
Something in Severus broke away, and… he… he…
The basilisk had not targeted Sirius or Minerva or even Harry or Ronald. It had gone after Severus first. The Dark Lord had realized his deceit, and was trying to dispose of him. He was frightened. Terrified.
Sev wanted to survive.
Hermione Granger would be fine, even without his warning. She was easily the cleverest girl he'd ever met afterall.
"Harry," said Severus hesitantly, the name unfamiliar. "What is she saying? Where is the other one?"
"He's in the walls sir," said Harry. "They're talking to each other. He's telling her that The Blood Traitor is… dead."
The Blood Traitor? Who…
Oh… Severus had given him a warning-
Right. A warning… Even if Ronald had heeded the warning, even if he'd been wise and cautious, if The Dark Lord wanted a first year dead then…
Severus paused. He didn't, however, patronize Harry with a hug. "Remember that they are Voldemort's servants. They seek to weaken you. Be especially careful of the female: It is a human in all but forme, and will destroy you with words if you let it. The other is merely a basilisk.
"We will kill them both," Severus said, giving him purpose rather than pity. "And then we will save your friends." He turned and met Harry's green eyes. "I guarantee it."
XOXOXOX
Professor Quirrell was waiting for her in the Room of Requirement. He smiled at her pleasantly. Ginny bled by his side, staining the bottom of his all-white robes in red. Beside his chair was a giant veil. It was made of stone, and in… She… Err… Avada Kedavra?
Hermione shook, she couldn't breathe. No, she was breathing too much. Hyper-ventialation, and why… Professor Quirrell's appearance had degraded. Violet slits for eyes, skin half-melted and pale as a perfect set of teeth. He was more a demon, like something that had crawled straight out of hell itself, some primal evile force…
It was just an attempt to frighten her! Um… Just an attempt to frighten her! But… All that talk of bravery? Foolishness. Was it too late to go back to Eton? Hermione very much wanted to run away. Unfortunately her legs refused to work. She could still feel them though, she felt a trickle of urine crawling down her thigh.
Avada Kedavra? Not a chance, she couldn't even move her tongue! How could such a creature exist? Why would the universe allow such a thing to be possible?
"You've come. Good. Hermione Granger, allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Lord Voldemort, and I would like to acquire your services," Professor Quirrell said matter-of-factly. "Albus Dumbledore has hidden The Philosopher's Stone inside the Veil of Klyeaezrf. Much as it pains me to admit it, I cannot retrieve it myself. The solution to his puzzle eludes me, so I've come to you, a witch of generational intellect, for help."
His words did not match his nightmare of a face. And yet…
"Klyeaezrf means humility," Hermione blurted. "The Veil of Humility. Such an intriguing-"
The thing that had once been Professor Quirrell arranged its features into a facsimile of a thin smile.
Hermione managed to keep her knees from buckling. She was rambling. That had been foolish hadn't it? She ought not blurt out the only leverage she had? Did it even matter? The rules of occlumency and legilimency ought to matter, but she could not hide anything from this thing, for lies were his domain. She could feel The Eyes of Voldemort upon her, like a knife to her back.
"You need not worry Miss Granger," said Professor Quirrell's voice. "It was a difficult puzzle, but not for one such as me. I am a genius as well, but The Stone's defenses were designed specifically to thwart me. Unfortunately, Albus has used my own genius against me. A riddle I cannot solve will be too challenging for the rest of the rabble. Of course, Severus proved capable of retrieving The Stone, so surely you can solve The Veil as well. Are you agreeable to negotiations?"
"Y-Yes," Hermione said softly, reciting her lines from memory, looking at her feet, running from the demon's gaze. But no matter what she did she could feel his attention. "What are y-your terms? What are…" Hermione took a deep breath, trying to slow her heart… She felt light-headed, like consciousness might slip from her at any moment. "What are you offering me?"
"Your best friend's life," said Professor Quirrell. "I will use The Philosopher's Stone to heal the wounds inflicted upon her by Nagini."
"Only to murder her yourself two seconds later," snapped Hermione. "And then me a moment later. If I'm to get you the philosopher's stone, I need a guarantee of safety."
Even at her most frightened, did he take her for a fool?
Professor Quirrell's laugh was high and cold. Fit for a villain straight out of Hollywood's central casting. Or perhaps, the utterances of a malevolent entity, given consciousness through the perversion of the most powerful and ancients of magic. Hermione couldn't stop herself from trembling.
"An intelligent adversary at last," said Professor Quirrell, his violet gaze overwhelming. "A fair consideration. I, Lord Voldemort, will do no harm to you or yours so long as you make no move against me."
…Huh… Exactly as she'd predicted… The evil before her was… She ought to have known… Evil was not some separate entity from humanity, it was ingrained in every human soul… Lord Voldemort was not an alien, he was very, very human.
Unfortunately, realizing he was simply a murderous, genius psychopath with more magical power than anyone who had ever lived was hardly a comfort.
"For how long?" Hermione whispered. "How long will this…"
Should she act like she hadn't noticed… Should she act like she was ignorant of his plans, of his inspirations and goals? No… No it would just be insulting. Lies, manipulations, and threats would only be counterproductive, the best way to come to an agreement was to be straightforward.
"How long will this vow of… Neutrality… how long will it last?"
Professor Quirrell twitched, and she could feel his attention wander, but for only a moment. It almost made it worse when she felt those murderous violet eyes reattach themselves back onto her. Her legs gave out. She fell to her knees, staining herself in Ginny's blood, her own urine. She struggled back to her feet, barely managing to stand, her knees knocking into each other.
"Do not try to play games with me, little girl!" Professor Quirrell hissed. "Do you think you can hide things from me? I have erased entire families for less. Remember to whom you speak, Lord Voldemort, the greatest wizard of all time."
"I'm sorry sir," Hermione squeaked.
She felt his glare, and her bladder emptied itself once more.
"You thought that if you distanced yourself from your dearest Ronald it would keep him safe? Did you think your little spat in the tournament could fool me? Lord Voldemort!" Professor Quirrell's laugh was high and cold and filled her with dread. "You're clever Miss Granger. Perhaps even cleverer than me. But you're inexperienced, and your love makes you weak. I know where your heart lies, and it isn't with Ginevra. I've assigned my most trusted servant to murder poor, mediocre Ronald Weasley for me. And your best friend Harry is being dealt with as we speak. Poor Ginny is dying in front of us, a visual aid, but the true fear lies in what you cannot see. I know full well that if you want to hurt someone, if you want to truly control them, you don't seek to harm them directly. You go after their heart."
Professor Quirrell drew closer. "Tick tock. Time draws short, Miss Granger. Do we have a deal?"
XOXOXOX
Tom's eyes stung.
Sirens were blaring. The sky was on fire. His manor was ash. A squadron of Heinkel He-177 bombers vanished like nightmares.
Father laid on the ground.
"Father," said Tom. "Father? What are we to do now? Adjourn to America?"
A retreat was hardly a defeat. Hitler. Grindelwald. They would suffer a thousand times over for what they had done to him. To his people.
The only man who Tom had ever respected stayed silent. He stayed on the ground, surrounded by ash.
Yes. Wait. Over aggression. Over ambition. That was the mark of the National Socialist Party. They had attacked France. They had attacked Denmark. They had attacked Norway. They had attacked Poland. They had attacked God's Chosen Kingdom. And they had signed their own death warrant, they had attacked the USSR, a country with double their population. Adolf Hitler had made the entire world his enemy. Soon, he would be forgotten, his empire reduced to rubble, his detestable ideology forcibly cleansed from the world.
"Everything is going to plan?" Asked Tom. "Isn't that right Father?"
Father was silent. Almost as if he was…
But the sirens had been more than enough warning. The Nazi's clumsy lufwaffe was nothing compared to the speed of one of Abraxas's curses, let alone his own. To put up a Shielding Charm was elementary.
Unless…
Unless you were a muggle.
Unless you were magicless.
Father was dead. Tom could have stopped it. He could have saved him. He should have saved him, even if he was powerless, because Father was the only… Father was the only one who allowed Tom to feel… Without Father… Without Father…
He wouldn't allow such foolishness! Tom was a wizard, and he'd read works that most would consider unnatural. Herpo the Foul had theorized the possibility of a soul tether. Although several had tried to make Herpo's vision a reality, none had succeeded. Tom had tried for years, he'd looked so deeply into the art that his classmates had started calling him Lord Voldemort.
But things were different now. He could feel something stirring, beyond intellect. His tether would not be for him, but for Father.
And Tom began to chant a spell. He broke apart his own soul, willingly, tears running down his cheeks.
He would not allow Father to die.
He channeled all his magic, all his worth, into Father's dark family ring. "Immola Me Pro Patre Meo." He entered a state, a state beyond… Beyond even brilliance, beyond thought, deeper even than consciousness itself. The oldest, most powerful magic, reacted to his words filled with a once-in-a-lifetime sorrow.
Tom Riddle shattered into pieces. As he put his humanity into The Weakling's Ring, a thought occurred to Lord Voldemort.
Why did Father abhor magic if he had bred Tom specifically to acquire it?
What if it had not been Father who had seduced his worthless witch mother, but his mother who enchanted Father with a love potion? What if his mother had taken Father forcefully?
What if Father was a weakling?
What if Father had betrayed him?
Because Father was dead, killed like vermin, while Lord Voldemort remained because of a Shielding Charm he had learned when he was thirteen. There was nothing to be gained from the pathetic man before him. He wasn't worth saving. Let him die.
But what of the man who killed him? How was he to learn his teachings? He could hardly trust the propaganda in the papers.
And so, a few months later Lord Voldemort continued his education, not in Hogwarts, but on the beaches of Normandy.
XOXOXOX
Draco felt his life draining out of him with each drop of blood.
You-Know-Who would be back by the end of the night. He would return, more powerful than ever before. All while Draco bled to death.
A potion weighed heavily in Draco's cloak. Father… Father had known? Father had agreed to this?
Why Father?
Why had Father betrayed him? It was… It was You-Know-Who's fault! He'd tricked Father! No… No…
Father was no fool. And… And he would never sacrifice Draco. Not for You-Know-Who, not for the world, he just wouldn't! Father wouldn't! But… The wind was so cold… Above Britain… How far until they reached… Saint Mungo's?
Draco felt cold…
Draco was dying.
Father had known.
Father had agreed to let Draco die... Not an opinion… A fact.
Why had Father? It was… Why?
"You do so resemble him," Dumbledore said. "Your grandfather, Abraxas. He too, became disillusioned with blood supremacy through witnessing the acts of a certain infamous Slytherin muggleborn. This fear drove him to study the muggles we shared land with: The British Empire."
Father had warned him that Dumbledore tricked many great wizards with his lies. Father had warned him against arrogance. Dumbledore would be convincing, even to a Malfoy.
But…
Dumbledore was only restating what Father had always told him.
The muggles were barbarians, and every year they grew stronger. Their influence, their horrid culture infecting places it didn't belong. Wizardkind had been great once, and then came The Ministry, all the dreadful bureaucracy, azkaban replaced the cruciatus, and jobs! Abominations from the muggle world! What kind of fool willingly forced themselves to sit behind a desk for half their life? It was torture to one's magic. The magical world was slowly becoming a society of shared misery, already a shadow of its former greatness. And yet the muggle way was simply more productive. If nobody did anything about it, The Old Ways would be eradicated by The New. That was why they needed to keep muggleborns, and their muggle ways, out of Hogwarts.
Wizardkind had gone on for thousands of years, they didn't need all that muggle rubbish.
Was that really what he was sacrificing his life for? To… To expunge the muggleborns?
Was that really why Father had subordinated himself to You-Know-Who. Because You-Know-Who knew the muggle ways? So they could fight the muggle ways with other muggle ways? That didn't make any sense…
Draco felt cold.
So if the enemy wasn't the muggleborns, if the enemy wasn't the muggle lovers, then who?
The British Empire.
Grandfather Abraxas had studied The British Empire. Not the muggleborns of The British Empire, but the millions… the billions of muggles. The largest empire in the history of the world. Father told him that there was a myth that muggles told themselves, that The British Empire had been ruled by a king and queen, that it had broken, that it hadn't already taken over the world. But… If an enemy were to suddenly appear, all those illusions would fade, and the muggle world would unite.
It couldn't be.
Muggles had automatic rifles, supersonic jets, nuclear weapons, and outnumbered wizards a thousand-fold. A war with muggles was madness. Futile. They had to hide… Like rats… But eventually even rats were discovered. When muggles had known of them, they'd tried to burn magical kind at stake.
If one accepted four premises, there could only be conclusion. Premise one - mugglekind gained strength every year. Premise two - magicalkind's strength remained static. Premise three - mugglekind would try to eradicate magicalkind when they discovered them. Premise four - mugglekind would eventually discover magicalkind. Then the conclusion followed that if magicalkind wanted to survive they had to attack mugglekind as soon as possible, as hard as possible.
Father wanted war with the muggles…
Draco didn't. Because Grandfather Abraxas had only investigated the peasants. Justin had explained it to him. Just like with wizards, the muggle world had the right sort, and the wrong sort. Nobility, and the peasantry dragging them down. The muggles were to be forgiven for having uppity bints like Granger, but Finch-Fletcherly had assured him that the nouveau-riche held no real power. They were simply loud, like the masses, but ultimately powerless.
Judging mugglekind on people like Hermione Granger would be like Justin judging magicalkind on The Weasleys. All of which would of course be forgiven if magicalkind could actually win a war with the muggles. But they couldn't. And even if they could, the cost would be far too great. He knew this to be true, because while he could stomach sacrificing some classless wizard, sacrificing a wizard of Draco Malfoy's caliber would surely be a crime. The argument for war was very nearly a good one, which made it all the more dangerous.
Most concerning of all, it had been proposed by a muggleborn. So why exactly did You-Know-Who want war with the muggles? Or better, why did he claim to want war? Draco swallowed.
Lord Voldemort had to be stopped. And… And why were they flying? Why hadn't Dumbledore just apparated them to Saint Mungo's as soon as they'd escaped Hogwarts protective wards? Flying was so slow… Even if he wasn't dead by the time they got there, every moment they wasted gave You-Know-Who more time…
Everything would be lost. So why?
Dark Lord Dumbledore looked down at him, his blue eyes twinkling. "You know why."
Draco reached into his robe, and downed the potion. His wound closed.
"Dumbledore," said Draco. "We've got to go back. You-Know-Who is going to try to use Granger to get The Resurrection Stone. She'll manage it, and then he'll kill her. We… We can't afford to lose her."
The Dark Lord was immortal. Hermione was Dark Lord Dumbledore's only spare, even if she was the wrong sort. Because frankly, against Lord Voldemort they needed the wrong sort. It was unsavory, but a Malfoy had to choose his company wisely. Not for his own comfort, nor friendship or love, but to ensure the continued health of Magical Britain.
"A prudent decision," said Dumbledore, turning around and flying back to Hogwarts. He reached into his pocket and offered Draco a yellow rock. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"
No he wouldn't. He hadn't the faintest clue what a lemon drop was, but he was quite sure that it wasn't the time for lemon drops.
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter, and may go back and change some things, but I wanted to release it this weekend and I'm to lazy to do any major edits right now. I hope you liked it despite some of the imperfections. In the next chapter a deal is made, and Harry's story concludes. And now onto the reviews!
merendinoemiliano - Thanks! I know this is nothing groundbreaking, but I feel tension is one of the most important elements in a story!
Alexel - And thank you for taking the time to read it!
ViviTheFolle - Let me revise my opinion, Hermione certainly values bravery, but she struggles to act under pressure. But she's more than willing to risk her reputation, and act in brave ways in terms of collaborating with Rita Skeeter, forming the DA, etc. But she is a schemer, not a soldier, which isn't a bad thing. I think that limitation makes her far more engaging of a character when she's forced to do something she's bad at… Like confronting Voldemort, for example.
As for Voldemort's plan. He sought to use Ginny as a hostage to give Hermione plausible deniability. He thinks that she has already made up her mind to help him, and he just needs to give her an excuse to rationalize doing something that she might know rationally is stupid, and yet for some reason want to do it anyway… And he's absolutely right about that… Thanks for the review!
Bigdawgstatus - Delusion is probably my favorite thing to write about, so I'm glad you appreciated it! I've got to shout out Rowling, writing the fanfic really made me appreciate the chemistry between characters. Especially Ron and Hermione, which was what inspired me to write this fanfic. I'm pleased that you mentioned pairs of characters, as I've really focused more on how characters interact in this fic.
Berooooo - No need for that, haha. This fic is already finished, although I do want to make a few minor tweaks to make things more believable. In any case, the ending of this story should be posted before the end of summer.