Thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Speaking of reviews, the average per chapter is 40 now. I wonder if I'll actually manage to get over 1k by the end…
So I didn't wait a whole week between updates this time. Consider it a consequence of my good mood from finishing writing Part Three. I'm starting to work on Part Four now, so hopefully that will go well!
Now, on to the chapter!
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Harry smiled to himself as he worked on his potion. He was in class now, it being Monday, and, though he hadn't really understood why Mrs. Jerome had asked him the questions that she had, all had gone well. Severus had told him that she had asked the things she did so as to ensure that he was not only capable of taking care of himself, but also so that she could ensure he wasn't trying to become emancipated because of some problem at home; though the questions had seemed too simple to Harry to actually accomplish this. She had asked the potion master much more detailed questions regarding the same subjects, along with Harry's performance in school, and, while Harry didn't know what the man had said to her, his answers had left her satisfied enough to sign off on his request.
Now, the papers were being filed with other departments in the Ministry, and when that was done, if he was fully approved, they would send confirmation to the goblins, who would, in turn, contact Harry. Then he would need to go to Gringotts, and meet with Grimrok, and he would have to sign a few more papers before they would present him with his Lordship ring. After that, he would be free. He was nervous of course, worried that something would happen before the process was complete; that Dumbledore would catch wind of it, or even the Minister, and try and stop things.
Even if they did, he would still be free after he turned seventeen, he would just rather have his freedom before that; since it would give him more time to prepare. His plans had, thus far, only extended into completing this year at Hogwarts, getting emancipated, and moving to the castle in Russia; but he was still at a loss for what to do beyond that. Where would he go to school? What would he study? How would he learn to fight? How would he face Voldemort? Would he even survive that confrontation?
He pushed those thoughts aside and tried to firmly keep smiling. No matter what else happened, this was a victory; a small one, but still a victory. He wanted to enjoy it, even if things all fell apart later.
"Excellent work! You're doing very well, Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter." Slughorn smiled brightly at them and moved on, and Harry felt proud of himself. It was true that Draco was better than him at potions, but he had done his fair share of work, and their calming drought was the exact color and consistency that the book stated it was meant to be at this stage. He grinned at the blonde, but the pureblood didn't even glance up from his work, and that brought another problem to Harry's attention.
Something was wrong with Draco; something was truly wrong. He looked terrible for one, and though he attempted to act as though nothing was out of the ordinary, he failed, and Harry knew he was not the only one to notice. It wasn't an act either, since the grey kneazle that represented the fair teen usually walked around at his side tall and proud, and lately simply slunk around behind him occasionally giving out pitiful mewls.
They worked on their potion the rest of class in silence, and when the bell rang and everyone began gathering their things, Harry made his decision. Blaise and Draco tended to walk together, and the dark teen was always ready to go very quickly. When he made to wait, Harry waved him off behind Draco's back. The other looked from him to the blonde and then nodded, and left with the other snakes. When Draco looked up, he seemed almost startled at the fact that he was the only Slytherin left in the room, and then his eyes met Harry's.
"We need to talk." The Malfoy heir swallowed thickly, and nodded, and Harry led him out of the room with a hand on his arm; prepared to grab onto him if the other tried to get away. Draco was not known for willingly speaking of his problems. He led the other into an empty hallway, and then into a larger alcove he had found last year by accident that was behind a large patterned tapestry. Draco slumped against the stone wall, the darkened alcove serving to make the shadows beneath his eyes more pronounced. He was not even trying anymore to pretend he was alright, and Harry took it as a relatively good sign. "What's going on?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." Draco's voice was careful and measured, but unconvincing, and Harry knew he wouldn't need much to get the other to spill.
"Bollocks. You look like hell. You have since the year started. Something is wrong, and I want to know what it is."
"Why? What the hell do you care for?" He snapped, his eyes sharp as blades, and Harry glared at him.
"Maybe because you're my friend, and I don't care to see you like this. You're worrying me, Draco." His voice softened near the end, and he watched the other teen slump his shoulders as all the breath seemed to go out of him.
"I... I can't tell you."
"Why not?" Grey eyes looked up at him, and he could see the desperation in them.
"Harry. I. CAN'T. Tell you." Harry stared at him, and thought, and then something occurred to him. Not being able to talk about something wasn't the same as not being willing to talk about it.
"Did someone put a spell on you? To keep you from talking?" Draco said nothing, but looked down again, and Harry nodded. That was answer enough for him. "Come on, we need to talk to Severus." The other teen looked up in a panic.
"NO! I can't! He's a death eater! He-"
"Draco." The blonde teen stopped, and Harry knew he could risk this. "I trust him." They stared at each other, and grey eyes widened. The bell rang again, and they both jumped. Harry chuckled nervously, and the Malfoy heir seemed to calm.
"Alright." Draco's voice was raspy, and he shook, but he nodded, and Harry led him away, into the dungeons.
Harry knew that Severus would be teaching right now, and the man would not be happy with him for interrupting, but this was important, and Harry was of the mind that it could not wait. So they walked quickly, and without speaking, until they stopped before the door to Severus' classroom; only a few doors down from the old potions class. He could hear the deep baritone of the man's voice muffled from the other side as he lectured, and he swallowed. He and Draco looked at each other one last time, and nodded simultaneously. Then Harry knocked, and the voice on the other side stopped. Sharp footsteps sounded out, and then the door slammed open, both of them taking several steps back so as not to be hit, and Severus stood before them. The man glared down at them with dark eyes and great anger that was tempered only slightly when he realized who, exactly, the two students were.
"What, precisely, is the meaning of this?" His voice was low, and carefully controlled, and Harry winced. The man was so close to losing his temper.
"We need to speak with you." He was proud of himself; his voice wasn't shaking. "It's urgent."
"Urgent enough that it could not possibly wait?" Harry nodded, and the professor's dark glare faltered slightly. He stared them down, looming over them in a way that made both teens feel very very small; and which only Severus seemed able to do. "Very well." He slammed the door shut, and they heard his voice ring out sharply in the room beyond. Then the door opened again and he came out, immediately heading in the direction of his office, and the two of them scrambled to follow him; both having to take many more steps than their elder in order to keep up; even Draco, who was noticeably taller than Harry. The man stopped only to whisper the password and then enter the room. They followed after him, the door closing behind them of its' own accord, and Harry relaxed some in the familiar environment despite Severus' foul temper. "Now then, which of you would like to explain to me, exactly, what is so important that it required you to interrupt my teachings?" His glare wasn't so foul as it had been at first, and Draco looked at the floor while Harry came forward.
"I... I'd been noticing lately that something was wrong with Draco, so I tried to question him."
"And?"
"He couldn't tell me anything, sir. I think someone's spelled him quiet. But it seems to be important, and..." He paused, looking over at the grey-eyed teen. "I think it may have something to do with Voldemort. The way the other teen flinched violently attested to that, since he was generally one of the few that seemed unfazed when hearing Harry say that name. Severus watched them both, and then sighed, his anger seeming to dissipate some.
"Draco, come here." The blonde did so hesitantly, and looked afraid when Severus pulled out his wand. He jerked and closed his eyes when the man cast a spell Harry had never heard before, but seemed unharmed afterwards, though he lit up like a Christmas tree. Glowing bands of green, blue, and a sickly yellow twisted around his neck and chest, almost like several nooses with the extra rope tied around his torso. Severus' eyed the bands distastefully, and scowled, and though Harry felt very little when looking at the green and blue, the yellow bands made him feel ill. He didn't need to be told to understand that something was very wrong with those. Draco was shaking slightly, though he was still calmer than before, now that he seemed to understand the spell the potion master cast was not to harm him.
Severus' loyalty to Voldemort was not something Harry and he had ever discussed outright, but Harry knew the man was the epitome of all that was Slytherin. He doubted that he held any true loyalty to the Dark Lord, especially considering all that the man had done to help him. That said, it was better to have a hand in every game of cards, because you could never be sure which hand would win. If Harry had learned nothing else from Blaise, he had learned that all Slytherins thought of themselves and their loved ones above all else, and if protecting them and theirs meant siding with a madman, then they would do what they had to. Harry didn't know if Severus had any family, but the concern he looked at Draco with was proof there were those he cared for.
The man in question began waving his wand about in complicated patterns and muttering. Harry leaned against the wall and watched. His sensitive ears picked up every third word or so, none of which were in English, and he contented himself with the thought that Severus clearly knew what he was doing.
Unbidden, thoughts of his third year creeped back into his mind. Severus had despised him then, fully and truly, and yet, the man had he and Hermione behind him and faced down a werewolf to protect them; made even more impressive when Harry knew the man feared nothing more. He had risked his life to defend two students he didn't care for, and Harry suspected the man's near-cruel demeanor in class had more to do with getting them to listen in order to prevent accidents, which, in subjects like Potions or Defence, could be fatal. If the man would do so much for people that meant nothing to him, just how far was he willing to go for those he loved?
Harry watched the sour man more closely, more than the wild casting of his spells. Determination was etched into his face as though it had been carved there, and there was a fire in his dark eyes that Harry was startled to realize he recognized. Startled because, it was something he had seen in himself once; all the way back in first year. He recalled it from looking in the mirror of Erised, and getting the stone. He remembered thinking then, that more than anything, he wanted the stone, so that Voldemort couldn't have it. He remembered being willing to do anything to protect his friends, and to keep the Dark Lord who killed his parents from winning. Thoughtlessly, a small smile came to his face then.
No. There was no way in the darkest, flaming pits of hell that Severus was loyal to Voldemort.
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They ended up spending the rest of the day in Severus' office; the man casting spells on Draco in close succession nearly all that time. He had stopped only twice. Once to send off three letters that would mark the cancellation of Defense class for the rest of the day, as well as excuse Harry and Draco from their own classes. Harry had nearly expected the headmaster to show up after that, but he hadn't. The second time had been to get some water, and though there were no windows in the dungeons, Harry suspected it had grown dark outside.
The man was tiring now, sweat dripping from his brow, and Harry knew he would have to stop soon. He had done well, besides. Draco still glowed, sitting in a chair now, but not as he had before. The Blue ropes had been the first to go. They had snapped and shattered apart like broken glass. Then the green had unraveled, like torn rope, little by little until it had unwound entirely. Now, only the sickly yellow remained, though it had begun to flicker some time ago, as though it was dying out and using every last bit of its' energy to fight its' demise. Draco had stopped shaking long ago, and now his eyes drooped, as though it were taking all he had to stay awake. Harry himself had stopped standing hours ago, and though he still leaned against the wall, it was now from his position of sitting on the stone floor.
All of a sudden, the yellow ropes glowed brightly, brighter than they had at the beginning, and Harry sat straighter. Draco opened his eyes widely and watched it, fear now on his face, as he didn't know what was happening. Harry looked to Severus, and his own worry calmed when he saw the slight smile and victorious expression there. The yellow ropes seemed to explode, though it caused no harm to the blonde, and fell to the ground like sand; vanishing before they even touched the floor. Draco slumped over, his eyes rolling back in his head, and Severus stopped him before he fell to the floor, and gathered him up into his arms with ease.
He carried the blonde through the door at the side of the office that lead into his quarters, and Harry followed them. The blonde teen looked so small, like a sleeping child, in Severus' arms. The man took Draco through the door to his room, and Harry settled onto the familiar couch, watching through the open doorway as the professor put the unconscious teen in his bed and covered him. The professor sighed once he had come out, and closed the door behind him, leaning against it with a weary sigh.
"Is he gonna be alright?"
"Going to, Harry, and yes, he needs only to rest now. He should be well enough, come morning." Harry nodded, and the man moved from sight, into the kitchen. Harry expected him to return with tea, but the man came back carrying a bottle and two glasses. He was surprised at that, recognizing alcohol when he saw it. He might have expected the man to need a drink himself, but the second glass implied that some was for Harry too. This proved a correct assumption, when the man poured some liquid into both glasses and handed one to Harry. It was a light color, a pale green or cream maybe, rather than the auburn of firewhisky, or the clear water-like countenance of the Rumple Minze Harry had shared with Moody. Harry took it carefully, and sniffed it. His nose wrinkled, and he took a sip, hoping it didn't taste as bitter as its' smell suggested. The actual taste was something like a cross between bitter and sweet that Harry wasn't all too sure what to think of, and he decided that, while he might finish the glass, he wouldn't ask for more.
What was with older men giving him drinks these days?
"What is this?"
"Moscato. White wine. It takes getting used to, I suppose. Lily was fond of it."
"Was she?"
"Indeed. She wasn't particularly a fan of alcohol, and I recall it was one of those few such beverages she would drink." Harry hummed and continued to sip at it, opting to give it more of a chance.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, Harry. Though, I feel it is I who should be thanking you." Harry looked up, surprised.
"Why?" Severus looked carefully at him, his face relaxed and calm, though without that neutral mask the man tended to put on. The bicorn lay by the side of the couch, looking tired, but not unhappy.
"Because you have been listening to me." The teen's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "I asked you, to come to me when something important arose, so that I could help you, and you have done so. First with your need to go to the Ministry, and now with this. You have not come to me with petty issues, and when you do come, you are honest. I am glad, especially, for your bringing Draco to me. I knew that something was wrong, though I thought it was not so serious, and I have been too busy to think much on it before now."
"Was I right then? Do you think it has to do with Voldemort?" Severus nodded.
"The Dark Lord's magic is tainted by all that he has done, and very unique as a result. I could feel it when I dismantled his spells. It is likely that he has tasked Draco with something, and cursed him to ensure his secrecy. Now that I am aware of it, and have removed the binds, I shall be able to question Draco on the matter."
"That will help us, won't it?" Severus sighed.
"I do not know. If the Dark Lord has given some secret mission to Draco, knowing it may help, but not in the way you believe. It is possible that whatever has been set in motion cannot be stopped, and our only course of action will be to help Draco, and ensure that he, and anyone else involved, simply come out as unscathed as possible."
"So we might not be able to stop whatever his plan is?" Severus nodded.
"Sometimes, the best path is not to fight evil, but simply do what we can to prevent loss of life by its' hands." Harry looked down, and drank some of his wine. "Where do you sleep, Harry?" Harry looked up, startled, and nearly dropped his glass.
"I- Wha-"
"Do not bother lying to me. For all that we pit ourselves against one another in our mutual desires for the House Cup, Minerva and I are friends behind closed doors. Did you not consider there might be spells and wards on the dormitories to ensure their occupants remain dwelling there?" Harry paled, and swallowed guiltily.
"But, if she knew..." He hesitated.
"Why did she not say anything to you?" Harry nodded. "Because you appeared well. The wards said nothing of you leaving the grounds, so she knew you were in the castle, and you appear well-rested each morning. You eat your meals, and you are doing better than usual in your classes this year. She is worried, yes, but you are doing fine, so there has been little cause for any great concern. She decided she would leave you be on the matter unless you started to show that something was wrong. I however, am not so keen to sit back and allow this behavior." Harry fidgeted and set his glass on the table.
"I... You know I leave the castle sometimes. To go to the lake, and sometimes the forest." Severus' eyes narrowed.
"The forest? I was aware of your trips to the lake, but not the forest. For what purpose would you go there?" His face grew stern.
"To hunt."
"Hunt?" Harry nodded.
"Yes. Deer, and rabbits, and the like. Sometimes I need to. It... It's calming. Not the same way as the lake. It sort of..." He bit his lip, trying to think of a way to explain. His eyes fell on the wine. "Like alcohol! You drink some to take the edge off when you're stressed, don't you?" The man nodded slowly. "That's sort of what hunting does for me, in my animagus form." Severus sighed, and nodded, seeming to accept the answer, at least for the time being.
"And what, precisely, does this have to do with where you sleep? Unless you are sleeping in the forest?" Harry shook his head.
"No. The twins showed me a room, on the seventh floor. They found it by accident. It's a secret. There's a living room there, and a bedroom attached. It has a trapdoor in the back that leads into a tunnel that goes all the way out to the forest, near the lake. It's safe, because no one can use the tunnel unless they've slept in the room, and I think it wears off after a while, like if you haven't slept there in a few months, or it resets every year. I couldn't go through this year until after I had stayed in the room again, and since the twins have been gone for so long, I'm the only one who can use it right now. It just makes it easier to get in and out, and this way I don't have to wear the glamours while I sleep." Severus stared at him for several minutes, and then nodded.
"Very well. I will allow this, but in the future, I will expect you to inform me of these things. Is that clear?" Harry nodded. "Is there anything else you feel I should know, while we're at it?" The man's gaze was sharp, and Harry considered it. He thought of the other tunnels, the heart of the castle, and the Keeper's library, but decided against sharing that. Something in him told him that no one else should know of that place, and it would be filled entirely with water in a few years besides. Then he thought of the castle in Russia.
"I'm leaving at the end of the year." He looked down, not meeting the other man's eyes. "It's part of why I needed the emancipation, so that I can leave, legally. I'm tired of being a pawn on the headmaster's chessboard. I want to fight Voldemort, but I want to do it on my own terms, and in my own way, and on my own time; if I'm able." He looked back up then, green eyes blazing, daring the professor with his gaze to speak against his wishes, but the man only nodded.
"I had figured as much. Will I be able to contact you, where you are going?" Harry blinked.
"You don't want to know where?" He shook his head.
"It would be safer for you if you told no one. No matter how great I am at occlusion, there are still ways to pry information from a person. Without having taken an antidote, there is no way around veritaserum, and everyone breaks eventually when under torture. Have you told anyone?" Harry shook his head.
"You're the only one besides Fred and George who even knows that I'm leaving." Severus nodded.
"Keep it that way if you can." Harry nodded.
"Yes sir."
"Now, as to my original question...?"
"I... I'm not sure. I'll need to look into it. Most likely, I'll contact you first, and let you know how to reach me if you need to."
"Very well. The place you are going is safe? Secure?" Harry recalled the extensive list of wards he had been given when asking Grimrok for more information regarding the unplottable castle. Some of them were quite nasty, passed down from paranoid Black Lord to even more paranoid Black Lord and there were more offensive based ones than defensive.
"It's armed to the teeth." Severus smirked, amused.
"Did you intend to bring anyone with you?" Harry blinked.
"Why would I?"
"If the place you are going is truly secure, and large enough, there are those who could benefit from going with you. Some of my snakes even. Those whose parents cannot escape servitude to the Dark Lord, yet do not wish their children to be bound under the same fate, or even those who you simply wish to protect. The Dark Lord is on the move, Harry, and it is only a matter of time before there is very little left outside his reach." Harry nodded, and leaned back in the couch.
"I... I'll consider it." Severus nodded.
"That's all I ask."
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Harry found himself sleeping on the couch in Severus' quarters that night, the man doing the same, though on a transfigured sofa in his office. He curled up beneath the familiar blue blanket, warm, if slightly uncomfortable wearing the glamour band while sleeping. He stared at the fireplace while on his way to dreaming, and, for the first time, wondered why the potion master had a fireplace in his office and here. Wouldn't just one suffice? He knew the one in the office was connected to the floo, so was this one just for comfort? He found himself dozing to these thoughts, and then lost them all to his dreams, none of which he recalled once he had awoken.
When he did wake, feeling rested, he wondered how Severus kept track of the hours. The only windows in the dungeons were the ones in the Slytherin common room that looked into the lake; far enough near the bottom that little light reached them there. Thus, there was no sunlight, or way to distinguish day from night, and Severus kept no clocks in his rooms. Did he just cast tempus all the time? The thought seemed so tiring. He pushed his considerations aside with a sigh, sitting up and making a note to just ask the man all his inane questions one of these days, even though it would be likely to irritate him.
He mumbled to himself indecipherably, too tired to even know what he was saying himself, and stood up. He stretched, and headed for the kitchen, hoping that Severus had cold water stashed somewhere to calm his thirst, and that he wouldn't mind Harry digging about in his kitchen too much. He froze in the doorway however, once he realized the room was already occupied.
Draco sat at the table, a glass of what looked like juice clasped between both hands on the tabletop, and staring into it with tired, stressed eyes that made him look so very old in comparison to how Harry had perceived him the night before when the professor was carrying him to bed. He didn't look up at Harry, though the Gryffindor knew somehow that the other was aware of his presence. The jug of juice was still on the counter, and Harry put things off to walk over and pour himself a glass; his footsteps seeming louder on the stone floor than they actually were.
It was not the first time Harry had noticed the dead silence of the dungeons, so different from anywhere else night or day, even the rest of the castle. In Surrey, there was always noise. Typical neighborhood sounds like various animals, some stray and some not, the cars a couple streets over, where the main road was, and the snores of the various members of the Dursley family as they slept. In the daytime, the noise was even worse, including now the various neighbors going about their days and talking to one another, and the children who played in the cul de sac. At the Burrow, or even Grimmauld, the very buildings moaned and groaned and creaked almost constantly, daytime or night. The Burrow, on top of it, was always filled with people, none of whom, save maybe Percy, were known for being quiet. At Grimmauld, the people at least tried to be quiet, because if they didn't then they would have to deal with Mrs. Black's shrieking. The rest of Hogwarts had its' own noises. Even at night, there were still the portraits, and the suits of armor, the house-elves, the weather, those on patrol, and any students who happened to sneak out. The forest, and the lake, too, had their own sounds.
Yet here, in the dungeon, it was silent. Harry daydreamed a moment, wondering if the lower levels of the castle had ever been used as actual dungeons for the keeping of prisoners, and determined that it was likely, given the age of the place. Had the dungeons been as deathly quiet then, too? He imagined that the silence would have driven any prisoner out of his right mind long before any true punishment or torture were enacted upon them.
He sipped at his juice, considering his morbid thoughts in further detail as he joined the Malfoy heir at the table without a word from either of them. Would he have lost his mind, trapped, day after day in utter silence? With nothing but his own thoughts and the noise of his own breath and beating heart to keep him company? He thought he might. He liked the silence, true enough, and solitude was no stranger to him, but he would never wish for such a state in consistency. He needed other people, and sound, at least some of the time, or he would go mad.
What was it like, he thought, to lose your mind? The muggles spoke of how a crazy man didn't know he was crazy, so would he even notice as his sanity fled him? Or would he know every second that it slipped away in crucial agony until it was finally gone? Would it hurt, to go mad? Or would it feel pleasant, like all your troubles were leaving you alongside your mind? His thoughts came to a stuttering halt as Draco coughed, and they were interrupted. He watched the blonde, waiting, and, after a few seconds, the teen's grey eyes lifted to meet his own.
"I've been ordered to kill Dumbledore." The words seemed to fall out of the teens mouth almost without his permission, slamming down upon the air between them like every word was a heavy stone, and he looked nearly as startled at having spoke as Harry did at the actual words. He felt his good mood slip away without so much as a by-your-leave, and groaned.
Why did his life just have to get more and more complicated?
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The rest of the week passed on in relative ease, though with no word from the goblins. Severus, Harry, and Draco had discussed the blonde's orders in more detail. They had learned, that, on top of being given the task of being the headmaster's executioner, Draco had also been ordered to find a way to get the death eaters into the castle by the end of the year, and the teen believed he had already found a way with which to do so.
Harry may greatly dislike the meddling old goat, but not so much that he wished for his death. Still, giving the task of killing a powerful (possibly the most powerful in all of Europe) wizard with over a hundred years of experience beneath his belt to a (by comparison) unskilled teenager seemed entirely too unreasonable to Harry, even when coming from Voldemort. When questioning this aloud to Draco, the Malfoy heir effectively threw a wrench in any half-formed plans in the Gryffindor's head once he had revealed why.
He had been given the order, that even Voldemort realized was nigh-impossible, as a punishment for his father's failure to bring Harry and the prophecy to the Dark Lord. The Lord Malfoy was currently a guest in one of the (apparently numerous) cells the man had, and would be killed if Draco failed at either of his tasks. Harry found himself willing to kill the headmaster himself before he allowed that to happen.
He had told no one of what Lucius Malfoy had done for he and the others that night at the Ministry of Magic, and only those who had been present at the time (and bound to silence) were at all aware of it. If not for his help, they may all well have died, and now, as a result for what he'd done for them, the man sat rotting in a cell and possibly, likely even, under torture. Harry felt sick at the thought. He owed a debt to Lucius Malfoy, no matter how unpleasant he had always found him to be beforehand, and he would pay it, no matter what it cost.
Voldemort would not be satisfied that Draco had succeeded until he could see Dumbledore's cold corpse at his feet. Having the man simply disappear, or making him drink the draught of living death, would not work, as the Dark Lord would see through both easily. They couldn't even go to the headmaster himself for advice, as it may mean contacting the Ministry, and they wouldn't listen to anything beyond being told that Draco was in the service of the Dark Lord. He would be locked away in Azkaban, and there would be no help for him or his father then. If the Ministry wasn't contacted, then the old man might try to tempt Draco into a life of spying, and if Severus' dark look when the matter came up was any indication, he would carve out the old man's heart with a muggle knife before he would ever allow it.
So they couldn't tell Dumbledore, which also left out the Order, especially not the Ministry, and they couldn't tell anyone associated with the Death Eaters, since they had no way to know where anyone's true loyalties lay, and, regarding those they knew were not loyal, the information could still get out; whether by human error, potions, legilimency, or torture. They had no one they could properly turn to, to keep Draco, and his family, safe. Harry considered the thought of spiriting the Malfoys away to Russia with him, but then there was still the problem of getting Lucius free first. Harry could give them a place to hide, yes, but they would have to get to them first.
He found his head aching by the time they had chosen to push the topic aside for more thought, and he hated how much he had come to learn. There was a time, when nothing beyond the surface seemed to matter, and he would have rushed in at the problem head-on like a true, and foolish, Gryffindor. If he had learned Draco was working for Voldemort back then, and meant to kill the headmaster, he would have contacted the Aurors immediately, and Draco would have gone to jail, Lucius would have been killed, and Merlin only knows what would have become of the Lady Malfoy. Now though, forced to look beyond the surface, the world was not so cut and dry; black and white. He almost longed for the days when everything appeared simpler to him, yet at the same moment he was glad to have them long gone. Ignorance might be bliss, but you lost more than you realized that way, and it was only the fact you didn't know about it that kept you sane and not hating yourself.
He tried his best to shove such thoughts aside, and focus on the books; back to packing them up and listing them as he was this weekend. He held back a smile, not nearly so surprised as he should be, when a voice rang out through the slightly musty air.
"You look particularly more troubled than is usual for you." He looked up, finding the same set of bookshelves pushed apart from one another, and Frode, looking down kindly from his frame and stroking his pointed beard.
"I guess that's because this is more troubling than my usual problems."
"Oh?" Harry nodded, setting the book he had been holding, an old red thing on the subject of Alchemy, down on top of one of the closed trunks sitting near him in his place on the floor.
"My friend, has been ordered to kill a man, and his failure will mean the death of his father, whom I owe a debt to, and no one 'sides me, him, and Severus knows, or can be told." Frode blinked.
"Yes, I suppose that is more troubling than usual." Harry barked out a bitter laugh. "Might I ask, who is Severus? I can't recall if you have mentioned him previously."
"He's one of my professors, and someone I trust with my life." Frode hummed.
"A mentor, then?"
"Something like that."
"I see, and why can you tell no other?"
"If we tell the Ministry, they'll lock him up, if we tell Dumbledore, he'll tell the Ministry or turn Draco into a spy, the Order works for Dumbledore, the Death Eaters work for the man who gave the order, and there's no one left who we trust." The portrait looked downwards, deep in thought.
"Hmm... Quite the predicament, it sounds like."Harry watched the man think for a while, and lost himself in his own thoughts on the subject until the portrait spoke again. "This man, he is the same one you call Voldemort, yes?" The teen nodded. "He holds your friend's father hostage?"
"Yes."
"Are you certain?"
"Well, yes. Draco hasn't heard from his father since summer, and Voldemort told him-"
"This man, has he, until now, been valuable to Voldemort?" Harry blinked, somewhat annoyed by the interruption.
"Yes..." Frode nodded.
"And this man, your friend's father, he angered Voldemort in some way?"
"Yes."
"How so?"
"He... failed, at a mission Voldemort gave him." Frode nodded.
"It is, in my experience, rather uncommon for a commander, no matter his nature, to cast aside a good soldier for angering him, or making some solitary mistake. Aside from that, it was this Dark wizard, whom, I would imagine, is not known for his trustworthiness, who shared his plan to kill the young man's father, and the keeping hostage of him, is it not?" Harry felt a light bulb flicker in his head, but not quite light up.
"Do you mean to say, you don't believe that Voldemort would Kill Malfoy? Or that he has him?" Frode shrugged.
"I could not rightly tell you. Still, it seems a fine tactic to me, to send the man off on some task, where he cannot be reached, and lie to the son about his whereabouts, in order to ensure some other task is done, or some goal is met. Are you certain your friend had tried every way he can to contact his father?"
"I... He's tried owling him, lots of times, and whenever he contacts his home through the floo they say he isn't home. I think he's owled other people too, but no one appears to have heard from the man."
"I see... Has he tried a house-elf?" Harry stared.
"A house-elf?"
"Yes. Homely creatures they are, with their own strange brand of magic. A house-elf can, no matter the circumstance, find anyone, anywhere, no matter the state or location. There are wards to keep them out, of course, but such things were hardly ever used in my own time, and likely not at all in today's world. People rarely think twice of the little creatures." Harry stared open-mouthed. "They can apparate people, as well, though not over very long distances. I imagine, if there are no wards to stop such a creature wherein the man is, it might not be too difficult at all to retrieve him."
"Frode..." Harry breathed. "You're a genius." This time, it was the boy who disappeared first, running off at inhuman pace, with great need to find Draco, and the portrait watched him go with amusement, and triumph.
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Harry rushed through the castle, heading towards the dungeons with single-mindedness. It was night now, but not yet past curfew, so he hoped that Draco would be in the Slytherin common room, or at least awake. Then, he paused, hesitating, and nearly fell down the steps he was currently on as his steps faltered. He reconsidered going to Draco. What if it didn't work? Then he would only be getting the blonde's hopes up, and, if it failed, crushing them.
He stood there on the stairs, suddenly uncertain what to do, and considered his options. The Malfoys kept house-elves, he knew that, so getting one of them would be easiest, but that would require going to Draco. The Hogwarts elves belonged to Dumbledore, not him, so he couldn't ask anything of them without risking that they might tell the headmaster. But, Ah! He had been the sole inheritor of all the Black property, hadn't he? Should that not include house-elves as well? He grinned ferally, and moved back up the steps, going up now rather than down.
He continued up, now at a more human pace than before. He was excited yes, about the possibilities, which he had, before now, never considered, but he tried to hold his emotions in check. There was no real rush, and he didn't want to fool himself into thinking it was foolproof and then have it not work. He found Mrs. Norris along the way to the seventh floor, unworried, since it wasn't curfew yet, and he stopped, kneeling down to pet her.
She purred at him, and he smiled, remembering Mrs. Figg's many felines, and left her be to continue on. He had always liked the cats, and kneazles, if not the smell of her home, and wondered for a minute if that may have influenced his animagus form; the Mishipeshu being a feline, if a scaled, snaky, aquatic one.
He made it to the Keeper's tower after that with no fuss, and sighed to himself as he entered. He thought for a moment, about how to go about calling the elf, and if he should do so right away. Severus called his elf by calling her name, or snapping his fingers, so doing the same should work. He could try both at once, even. But he needed a way to go about this. Kreacher was tricky, and was the kind to find any loophole he could within an order when Sirius had given it; he was likely to react the same to any order from Harry.
So he needed to work out what to tell the creature first, and consider his options. What if this worked, but Lucius was very far away? Could he even get away with bringing the man here if he was closer? Should he have Kreacher pop in out of nowhere? Or just observe unseen? And if it didn't work? What would he do then?
In the end, he went to the room first, and prepared a letter. He was careful in his phrasing, just in case, and thought for a moment before signing it. He wrote 'the one who steals your houselves' just in case, knowing that, while Malfoy would know who it was immediately, it was unlikely that anyone else would. He nodded, satisfied with the note, and blew on it gently until the ink was dry. Once it was, he folded it carefully, though he didn't put it in an envelope, and sat down on the bed. He took a breath, and then snapped his fingers.
"Kreacher!" A pop sounded almost immediately, and the withered, grumpy elf stood glaring at him and mumbling to itself. He grinned. So he was Kreacher's master, then.
"Filthy blood-traitor son, leaving poor Kreacher to half-blood scum, oh if Mistress could see-"
"Silence." The elf's mouth snapped shut as though by magic, and Harry guessed that it might be. "I have a task for you." He held out the letter. "You are to find Lord Lucius Malfoy, and watch him. If he is alone, you will give this to him, and bring me his reply, whether it is verbal or written. If his reply is with words, you will repeat them to me exactly and without leaving anything out. If it is a letter, then you will not tamper with it, and are to bring it to me as soon as it is given to you. If Malfoy is not alone, you will wait, and watch, and will do your task once he is. If he is unconscious, you will wait until he is awake. When you return, I will ask you questions about the state of the man, and where he is, and who you saw with him, and you will answer me truthfully. You will tell no one of this task, and will only bring me his reply, and your report, if I am alone when you return, is that clear?" The elf nodded with hate in his eyes. "Then here. Thank you, Kreacher." He kept his tone polite, if cold, and the elf looked shocked and confused at the thanks, before scowling and snatching away Harry's letter with a snarl. Then, with a pop of displaced air, he was gone.
Harry waited, hoping the elf would return quickly, but when minutes passed, he gathered up a book to read. Several hours later, the elf still had not returned, so he went to his bed. The creature was vindictive enough to wake him whenever he would return, so Harry decided he may as well get some rest while he could.
He hoped things turned out well.
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The morning dawned without Kreacher having come back, and Harry went off to breakfast with a worried sigh. He took his time in that halls, hoping that the elf would pop in, but once he caught sight of other people, he pushed the thoughts aside. Oddball cooed from atop his head, sensing his worries, and he scratched the creature's chin; earning several 'aws' from a gaggle of girls nearby. He ignored them.
Harry was, usually, able to convince Oddball to remain behind when he went to classes, so long as the little puff got to cling to him the rest of the time, though it was growing harder to do so. More and more he found himself showing up to a class or two with the red ball of fluff atop his head. His professors didn't seem to mind overly much, though he had yet to try it in Severus' or Professor Vector's classes. He imagined that, eventually, the thing would just go everywhere with him.
Metis, by comparison, seemed to want to accompany him only occasionally. The rest of the time, she was content to sleep in his rooms, and speak with him once he had returned. She was such a strange snake. True that she slept often like they normally did, but when she awoke, it was quite different than the few other serpents he had encountered. She bounced from happy to sad to irritable rather quickly when awake, and was prone to unusual behavior; like curling into a spring and jumping around, writhing in a dance that made her look like she was dying somehow, and climbing to as high a position as she was able (usually one of the bed posts) and then leaping upon him with a war-cry, only to curl up and fall back asleep on him afterwards. He had come to the conclusion, that she was not entirely sane, but he was fond of her regardless.
She was also growing. Where, when he first got her, she could just barely wrap herself about his wrist, she could now do the same around his upper arm twice. Her thickness had gone from that of a thin quill to a thumb, and, considering her obviously magical origins, he was starting to worry about how he would keep her hidden. He still didn't know what manner of serpent she was, even after looking through a couple books on the subject.
There were more in the secret library, but he had put off looking through them, having packed them up with everything else. There would be time for such studies next year, but for now he wanted to focus on runes and defense. The D.A. had started up again this year, though they met only every other week rather than every week, all agreeing (some grudgingly) that Severus was an excellent teacher in the subject; a fact which made the man very smug from his place behind the mirrors, his presence there still unknown to anyone but Harry.
He settled in at the Gryffindor table, sharing smiles and greetings with some of his fellow lions. Hermione smiled at him and waved from her place next to Ron a few seats down, and he waved back; their relationship still amicable even if they were no longer close enough to really be friends. The redhead didn't even look up from his breakfast, but Harry felt little animosity when looking at him. The other teen clearly regretted what he had said at Grimmauld, and, while he hadn't attempted to apologize again, he had left Harry alone since then; giving the green-eyed teen's temper a chance to cool. Seamus and Neville still talked with Harry often enough, and he considered them to be friends, delving into discussion with them now.
"I've seen those things all over lately." Seamus pointed to Oddball. "Lots of the girls 'ave got 'em. Theirs 'er pink and purple and the like though, not like yours. How'd you get it?"
"Fred and George gave it to me. They breed them. They're breeding the colors so they don't get ones like him often, and they weren't gonna sell him, so I asked if I could have him."
"How'd you get them to give him to you?" Neville looked almost fearful, and it occurred to Harry that most people only knew the twins through their pranking reputation; which is to say, almost not at all.
"I gave them some money to help them start up their shop."
"Oh? I figured the Potters must've had money, being purebloods and all, but I didn't think they were rich." Seamus looked at him, and Harry shook his head.
"I gave them the money I won at the Tournament." He didn't need them to know that the Potters did, in fact, have money, and the mention of fourth year sobered them all a little.
"Ah. That's explains it then." Seamus nodded. "I had wondered what you did with all that. Didn't seem to me that you would spend it."
"I couldn't bring myself to." They quieted, and those around them that had been listening looked down at their plates, no one wanting to remember the way that year had ended. Harry glanced over at the Hufflepuff table without meaning to, at Cho Chang, who still looked depressed. He hadn't spoken to her since she had left with the others last year after learning that they were going to have Slytherins in D.A. His vision was obscured suddenly by brown feathers, and a brown owl dropped a letter into his eggs. It flew away right after, and he watched it go with annoyance.
"Bloody bird." At least his Hedwig was intelligent. The others around him chuckled at his misfortune as he pulled the envelope with his name on it out of his eggs and flicked it to get the liquid off. He opened it with a shake of his head and a sigh, and opened the paper within to read. The single sentence there made his stomach flop and his skin pale, anger and fear curling inside him all at once.
You are to report to the headmaster's office after breakfast.
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I may have updated early, but I still ended the chapter this way! Now you all have to wait till next time to find out what the old goat wants. Muahahahaha!
Ahem. Anyways, this was a pretty simple chapter wasn't it? Most of Part Two is just build up for all the chap going on in Part Three, since that's when we really start to deviate from things and move into a more unique plot. Also, you won't see the rest of the Avengers until Part Four, but Bruce definitely pops up in Part Three. Maybe not as much as I would have liked, or with as huge a roll, but he's there, and Harry meets him, and… Stuff…
Well, I don't really have anything else to say right now, so see you next chapter!
Sincerely,
Mr. Hate