Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Painful Dark Magic ( Chapter 3 )

Part 3

Halfway during the night, Severus woke Draco to shove a vile concoction down his throat and then sternly command him to both keep it down and get back to sleep. Used to the man's bedside manners, though, Draco just nodded once and went back to sleep, ignoring Pomfrey's voice as she lectured Severus about rough handling the students and his refusal to tell her what was in that potion. Draco didn't care as long as it didn't nauseate him too much, and even better, it saved him from his nightmares. Usually he dreamed of running from muggles only every few months. Two dreams in one night unnerved him.

He woke again later with sunlight glaring in his eyes and someone's rough hand shaking him. With a mumbled curse he shooed them away and sat up, blinking a few times. "This better be damned important,"

he growled.

"Just as charming as your father in the morning," Snape said, standing straight. "Get up. You're wanted in the headmaster's office."

"What? Already?" Draco glared at him and didn't move. "I flew across the country to get here, you think he could let me sleep in a bit."

"You've been asleep for almost two days." Snape picked up the robes on the table and tossed them onto Draco's lap. "Get up. The sooner we're done there, the sooner we can get you settled back in Slytherin."

"Two days?" Draco threw on his robes and turned to sit at the edge of the bed. "Has there been any--?"

"No word yet," Severus said. "But remember, both your father and Pansy have large groups to move without being detected. They don't have the luxury of simply flying to Hogwarts."

"Didn't feel like a luxury to me," Draco muttered. By the time he was dressed and ran a comb through his hair, he noticed that his right hand curled easily now, although it still hurt to move. Whatever mix of potions and spells Pomfrey and Snape had laid on him had apparently worked.

"Here," Severus said, handing Draco his wand. "Pomfrey doesn't know I stole this off her desk yet, so keep quiet."

His hand closed satisfyingly over his wand, the familiar twists and indentations in the wood fitting his hand like an extension of his arm. Even the short time without it left him feeling empty and unprotected, and he tucked it into his robes with relief. It had saved his life twice now and he resolved not to let it out of his reach again. After his escape and the Death Eater attack, even the Hogwarts hallways did not feel safe.

Despite the war, classes continued as usual, although from what Draco heard as they walked through the school, the material had taken a more militaristic bent. Defending against dark magic and finding weaknesses in hexes and jinxes became more important than simply turning teacups into mice. Looking in the occasional open door, he spotted students practicing shield charms and counter curses. He glanced at his mentor's face and found a similar scowl.

"Has anyone told them that Death Eaters know more than just curses?" he whispered.

"I've brought it up several times," Snape said. "But they think they know best."

Draco didn't answer except to rub the sleep from his eyes. Two days of sleep and he still felt exhausted. Probably had dark circles under his eyes, come to think of it, and every movement felt like he was fighting the cramped position he'd flown in for so long. He wondered how many people knew he was back and if Voldemort knew he was safe in Hogwarts. Well, as safe as anyone could be here. For all the wards Dumbledore and the staff had set throughout the grounds, undoubtedly there were ways to bypass them.

They stopped at the gargoyle and Severus told it "cherry bombs." As the door opened, he noticed Draco's nonplussed look. "Some ridiculous new candy from the Weasley shop. Whatever you do, don't take any from the dish on his desk."

As they went up, Draco heard voices and quickly realized that this would not be a private meeting. He expected Potter's voice but scowled even further when he heard the mudblood and the Weasel loudly protesting something the headmaster had just said. At least he had Severus with him. As noble as Gryffindors were supposed to behave, he didn't trust any of them to have his interests at heart. Dumbledore would probably give him a stern lecture about how he would monitored at all times to make sure he didn't cast any evil magic or try to slip out unnoticed with information about their defensive spells.

When they entered the office, Dumbledore nodded once at them and gestured toward a fourth chair. Draco had to steel himself to walk inside and take the empty seat. The office hummed with the old wizard's magic and although his father could enter without quailing, Draco did not like being inside. He felt like a deer walking into a gryphon's den.

"Good morning Professor Snape, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore said. "I'm happy to see you recovered so quickly."

"He is not entirely recovered," Snape answered before Draco could. "He should have a few more days' rest."

"Quite understandable," Dumbledore said, looking at Draco and not mentioning how the blonde refused to meet his eyes again. "I'm sorry to have woken you, but there are a few things that I still need to ask."

"I thought you saw everything you needed last time," Draco said, glancing at the other students. They all looked upset at having to spend time near him, but Potter seemed absolutely murderous. Draco looked away to hide his confusion. He hadn't even done anything wrong yet.

"Your memories reassured me that your family no longer serves the dark lord," Dumbledore said. Ron snorted but the Slytherins only glared at him as the headmaster continued. "And I am confident that you will not harm any of the students here. However, you have brought something dangerous into the school and I am reluctant to allow it to remain."

"You mean the book?" Draco asked.

"I assure you, sir," Snape said, "the book is not dangerous in the right hands. And regardless of the war, Malfoy must complete his apprenticeship."

"Besides, it's safe in the bag right now," Draco said. "If we just keep it there--"

"I have every confidence that you both can manage your grimoire's magic," Dumbledore said. "But it's the bag itself I was actually referring to. A devil's sack, if I'm not mistaken?"

"Well, yes," Draco said slowly. "But the devil's been securely bound. There's no way it could get free."

"Normally I would agree." Dumbledore took a long silver key from on top of his desk and unlocked a drawer, then pulled out a wooden box and unlocked it with the same key. Gingerly he lifted out the same bag Draco had carried during his long flight and set it before him. "But I'm afraid there has been a complication."

As if something inside was alive, the bag squirmed and pushed out in all directions. All of them startled and Ron scrambled for his wand, but the headmaster waved him down.

"I don't think the devil has gotten loose," Dumbledore said. "I examined it as best I could without opening it and the confinement charms seem to be intact."

"Then..." Snape watched the bag twist and turn on the desk. "It's leaking," he realized.

"Oh hell," Draco said, forgetting about headmaster as he understood the problem. "The destruction spell I used to destroy the manor. It must have interfered with the magic on the bag."

"Not just your family's destruction spell," Dumbledore said. "But the collapse of all your family's charms, the shattering of several dark artifacts the ministry had not previously discovered, and your mother was a great collector of rare potions ingredients, yes? No doubt those ingredients scattered in the midst of such a sweeping spell."

"Not to mention the ancient magic on that broom," Snape said, "and then that enchanted blizzard that followed you."

"Serves you right," Ron muttered.

Dumbledore shot him a stern look but didn't scold him. "In any case, such large amounts of wild and destructive magic affected the seals on your devil's sack. I doubt it affected the binding on the devil, but since spells of this nature are chaotic at best, I am tempted to merely destroy it entirely."

"No," both Severus and Draco said at once. Draco fell silent as Snape clamped a hand on his shoulder to still him, but he didn't have to argue.

"Only tempted," Dumbledore said, his smug smile firmly in place. "But with young Malfoy's help, we should be able to safely retrieve the contents."

From the other side of the office, Hermione shook her head. "I don't understand, sir. How can Draco do something that you can't?"

"Blood," Ron said, staring at the bag as if it was a loathsome creature Hagrid might like. "Dark wizards like tying their property to their family."

"All purebloods link their estate to their lineage," Draco snapped back. "If they have anything of worth." He quieted again as Snape tightened his grip on his shoulder. This was neither the time nor the place for a squabble, but more importantly he didn't want to upset his mentor.

"Take the knife," Snape said softly.

Draco blinked. On the desk the headmaster had conjured a simple knife with a black handle. Risking a glance into Dumbledore's eyes, Draco looked up to see if he really wanted a demonstration of dark magic. When Dumbledore nodded once, Draco sighed and gingerly took the knife with his injured hand. To his right, Hermione and Harry stiffened in their seats while Ron merely looked away as he pressed the blade against his left palm, grasped it, and jerked it upwards. Blood trickled along the edge but the cut was not deep enough to bleed freely. He set the knife down and used his bloodied hand to reach into the bag.

As if by some unseen hand, he felt a book pressed into his fingers. He grasped it and gently drew out his father's journal. He reached in again and felt another, heavier book placed in his hand, and as he pulled it free, he heard the three Gryffindors gasp in unison. Even Dumbledore seemed put off by its presence. Draco looked at it for a moment as he set it down. The Malfoy grimoire, handed down through countless generations, wore a cover of human skin with stained brown ink showing along the uneven pages. A thick leather belt with a lock held it shut but even with that restraint, the book seemed to breathe, restlessly rustling its pages.

While they stared at his heirloom, he reached in a third time for the galleons he'd stashed. Instead he felt a smooth glass bottle pushed into his hand. Frowning, he drew it out and stared at it. On the label he read in his mother's swirling script 99% tincture base.

"It's from her potion store," he said, mostly to himself.

Snape reached down and took the bottle, examining the clear liquid inside. "Definitely one of Narcissa's supplies. Handy, but I take it you did not expect to find this?"

"No, I only took the two books and several galleons." Draco reached in again but recoiled as another hand touched his, rough and scaly with sharp nails that scratched his skin. As soon as he'd pulled free, Dumbledore drew the strings shut, tossed the bag back in the box and locked it up tight.

"The seals have definitely broken on this," Dumbledore said. "I trust there is nothing else you'd care to retrieve?"

Not with a devil grasping for him. Draco shook his head. Without any other questions, Dumbledore placed his wand on top of the box, said something very quickly, and then smoke poured out from the small lock. Although Draco despised losing the sack as they were rare and difficult to come by, he took solace in the fact that he'd retained the two books and picked up a tincture base that would probably have cost triple the amount of galleons he'd saved. A sparkle from his father's diary caught his eye and he spotted the edge of a coin stuck within the pages. He tugged a single galleon free and stared at it, the last remnant of his home and all the wealth saved from the now decimated manor. He didn't look away from it as Severus quickly healed his small cut, used to the potions master mending his minor wounds.

"Now that we've taken care of that," Dumbledore said, setting the box aside, "we may discuss more important matters. Your father and the remainder of his knights have vanished entirely. I'm sure they can take care of themselves. However, the whereabouts of Pansy Parkinson and several youngsters, many of them our own students, are also currently unknown. Do you have any idea where they might be? If we could get a team of aurors to help them--"

"She'll never let you get near," Draco said, shaking his head. "I told her not to trust anyone except herself until she got back here. We just have to wait until she brings them close enough to safely send for help."

Dumbledore looked up at Snape as if imploring him to convince Draco otherwise. To the wizard's dismay, Snape shook his head. "If we send help, they will see it as a threat and scatter," he said. "Doing anything at this point would only hurt them."

"But they're all alone," Hermione said, intruding again. "How can they possibly make it across the entire country?"

"Dark magic," Ron said as he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. "How about it, Malfoy? Are they slaughtering muggles to keep hidden?"

Both Harry and Hermione stared at him in surprise, but no one else seemed taken aback. Draco leaned towards him with a nasty smile, certain that he wouldn't try anything with the headmaster and Snape there. "Don't be silly, Weasley, you know that purebloods make the best sacrifices."

"That will be enough from both of you," Dumbledore said as Ron started to stand. "If you are to work together, I expect some degree of civility."

Feeling as if he'd been punched in the chest, Draco stared at the headmaster with wide eyes. Help them? After everything they'd done to him? He quickly noticed he was the only one surprised and realized that this must have been decided earlier and with his mentor's consent, as reluctant as that might have been. And he was safely beyond the Ministry only due to the old man's kindness. He slumped in his seat and glared at Potter.

"Well, no wonder Potter looks like he wants to hex me into the ground," he mumbled. "What do you want me to do, join the golden trio on some merry adventure risking life and limb to save the school and win Gryffindor another thousand house points?"

"Not quite so dramatic as all that," Dumbledore smiled. "My request is two fold. Professor Snape's potions have been our side's salvation on many an occasion. I request that you assist him in this. You will have free rein of the school's resources and the forbidden forest insofar as you can avoid the centaurs. Our side is always in need more potions."

"What, healing droughts and antidotes?" Draco asked. "Hardly worth the effort."

"Not from you," Dumbledore said, "the younger students are mass producing those. I had in mind more offensive mixtures."

"They're all offensive," Potter muttered.

Malfoy ignored him for the moment as he considered what the headmaster meant. Poisons, acids, vapors? He glanced up at Severus but didn't have to ask the question.

"Precisely. Our normal fare." Severus did not offer anymore information and with the others present, Draco did not ask.

"All right, that's easy enough," Draco said, looking back at Dumbledore. "What's the other thing?"

If it was possible, Harry's look darkened even further and he sunk into his chair. Ron put his hand comfortingly on his friend's shoulder and Hermione looked sympathetic but offered no help.

"We have fought enough battles," Dumbledore started, "to know that the Death Eaters have changed tactics. They used to rely mainly on unforgivable curses. Now, however, we have seen more and more dark magic being thrown against us, spells that we have either forgotten or put out of mind as simply beyond the pale."

"In other words," Severus said, his voice more righteous than usual, "pretending that dark magic is evil and shoving it out of sight has finally come around to bite the ministry."

"Quite," Dumbledore said. "And Hogwarts now houses the only two known dark wizards on our side. We would be foolish to let your knowledge go to waste. We probably do not have enough time to disseminate your information throughout the school, but..." he glanced at Harry. "I would like you to teach Mister Potter as many spells as time permits."

Draco's shock went unnoticed as Dumbledore continued to explain why the Boy Who Lived needed to be exposed to as much dark magic and their various counter spells as possible. Draco glanced at Ron and Hermione, who both looked put out and glared at him as if daring him to hurt their friend, and then he glanced at Severus, who looked like his mother did when forced to attend Quidditch games among wizards that looked down on her kind. And he was about to protest when a wonderful thought occurred to him.

He could throw dark spells at Potter. Draco Malfoy had Dumbledore's permission to fling countless curses and spells of the darkest nature at Harry Potter. He started to smile. Even if he didn't try to kill him, accidents always happened when jinxes and hexes were involved. Potter would be in the hospital wing every day and he didn't have to do anything but what Dumbledore wanted. He glanced at Severus whose scowl slowly turned into a small smile as the potions master saw the positive side of the arrangement.

The headmaster noticed their building glee and waved his hands quickly. "No no no, not like that. I'm sure there are more ways to teach dark magic than treat the apprentice like a target."

At that, Draco bitterly scoffed. "If there are, I haven't seen them."

"We prefer more direct methods than you do," Severus said, "but I'm sure we can alter them if Mister Potter feels that he needs protection."

Crepara, bubonia, crawenen, rotianan, haetus heorte, a multitude of spells rushed into Draco's mind. All of them were nasty, but some were more vicious than others. He wondered what the Gryffindors would think when Potter learned to cast them. Would they accept him still? Or did their natural hatred of dark magic run deep enough to cast even the hero of the wizarding world out of society?

"And finally," Dumbledore said, breaking his train of thought, "the question remains about your role here at Hogwarts. The laws of sanctuary are quite old and don't make allowances for a school providing shelter. Sanctuary was a private affair conducted by small groups of families."

"Yes," Draco nodded once. "Generally frowned upon by the rest of society because it let innocents escape vicious mobs and political enemies. I know its history quite well." Many of his dreams involved desperate flights toward sanctuary, most of which ended in failure.

"Then you know that you cannot remain here as a student. You are a guest, and thus not allowed to take up the work expected of students." The headmaster sighed. "Indeed, if you were to do so, your actions would probably be cursed and rebound upon you until you stopped."

"I admit," Draco said, "I don't particularly mind missing classes."

"Of course not," Dumbledore smiled. "However, I encourage you to sit in on classes you would have taken regardless. You will not be held to the assignments but you can at least participate and perhaps take your NEWTS later on, if circumstances allow."

"I've already drawn up your schedule," Severus told him. "I'll go over it with you later. If there is anything else, headmaster?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Merely my thanks to both of you for agreeing to help us."

As if Voldemort winning would serve any of them, Draco thought. He stood to go but Dumbledore abruptly raised his hand again.

"Forgive me, Professor Snape, I suddenly recall something that I do need to discuss with you. Mister Malfoy, if you would be so kind to show Mister Potter where the Slytherin common room is. The dungeons can be labyrinthine and I would hate for him to get lost." Over both Draco's and Snape's startled protests, he continued. "It will be best if you instruct him in your dungeons where other students will not see, and your common room seems the safest choice. In fact, I must impress upon all of you the utmost secrecy required about this. I'm afraid dark wizards have always suffered most when sorely outnumbered by the rest of society, and with Slytherin empty at the moment, Mister Malfoy undertakes this at some risk to himself."

Hermione nodded dutifully but Ron hesitated a moment, nodding only after she looked sharply at him. Harry merely stood and sullenly waited by the door, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the floor. Draco thought he looked remarkably like a scolded child and wondered if he and Dumbledore had argued about this. With one last look at Snape that only told him there was no way out of this, he stood up, leaving his books and tincture for Severus to examine. He idly twirled his gold coin between his fingers.

"Down to your last galleon, Malfoy?" Ron asked, ignoring the look Dumbledore shot him. "They've frozen your family's account at Gringott's, you know. How's it feel to be poor?"

Golden trio was right, Draco realized, if they were bold enough to act up in front of the headmaster. Had they saved the school again over the summer? He'd been so busy freeing his father that he'd left the dark lord's machinations against Hogwarts entirely to his mother's scrutiny. Mimicking the disaffected look his father preferred, Draco glanced at the redhead and tossed the coin through the air to land in Ron's lap. "Don't worry for my sake. Malfoy's are never so poor," he drawled, "that we cannot give to charity."

Hermione grasped Ron's arm, holding him still before he could stand. With all three of them glaring at him, Draco swept out of the room and down the stairs, trusting that Potter was at his heels. Fortunately classes were still in progress so he didn't have to worry about running into students in the halls. Painful twinges ran through his hand and shoulders and his legs shook as he walked. Even his long rest couldn't fix everything, and he tentatively flexed his hand. Pomfrey and Snape had done their best, but his fingers wouldn't curl completely and his smallest finger felt nearly numb.

"Have you always been a complete bastard?" Harry snapped, catching up to him.

"I give your friend gold and this is how you thank me?" Draco asked. "My family's always given to the less fortunate wizards among us."

"You arrogant little monster." Harry wheeled around in front of him, putting his hand on the wall to block his way. "But you're all alone now, no Crabbe or Goyle to back you up. How are you going to handle it, on your own with no mommy or daddy to help you?"

Draco flinched as Potter stood over him. Over the past two years Harry had steadily grown several inches while Draco remained even slighter than his mother, and he keenly felt the absence of his two burly friends. "I don't know," he snapped, "how've you handled it so far without yours?"

If it was possible, Harry's face looked like it might turn redder than Weasley's. His fist clenched and Draco remembered just how hard the boy could throw a punch.

"Hit me and you'll get to explain to Dumbledore why you hurt a guest under his protection," he hissed.

For several seconds Harry visibly struggled with himself but ultimately lowered his fist. "Just once, Malfoy," he growled. "Step out of line just once and I swear I'll send you back to your dark lord in pieces."

"If he was still my lord," Draco said, "I wouldn't be here, that's kind of the point. Or were you so busy sulking that you didn't hear the whole 'switched sides' part of the discussion?" He sidestepped Harry and continued walking towards the dungeons.

Beside him, Harry kept pace. "You only left Voldemort because your family was in danger. You're still dark wizards and nothing will ever change that."

Until they passed most of the classes and stepped into the shadowy hallways that led to the dungeons, Draco didn't answer. Instead he kept his head low and welcomed the cool, damp air, familiar and reassuring as his footsteps echoed around him. He resisted the urge to rub at the soreness building in every muscle. He could take a long hot bath when Potter finally left--

A second pain in his chest, much like the one he'd felt in Dumbledore's office but stronger, sent him to his knees. He put his hand over his heart and felt it racing, beating harder with each pulse. At the same time he realized that even if Pomfrey had cast a cleaning charm on him, he had not had a bath in four days.

"Malfoy?" Potter stared down at him suspiciously. "What the hell are you doing? If this is a trick--"

Ignoring him, Draco stood up again, leaning against the wall for support as he raced towards the common room. His own dark magic, he mentally tallied, along with Malfoy Manor's destruction and all the old dark magics crashing down on him, along with Voldemort's magic chasing him back to Hogwarts...

"What's wrong with you?" Harry asked, catching up. "You're gasping."

"Stupid Potter," Draco hissed, closing his eyes as muscle cramps tore through his body. "Stupid, stupid..." A coughing spasm took him and he fell again, wracked with pain as he tried to breathe.

To his surprise, he felt an arm snake around him and force him back to his feet, and despite himself he leaned against Harry for support. When Harry tried to turn him around, though, he nearly pulled free.

"What are you doing?" Harry berated him. "You've got to see Pomfrey--"

"No," Draco said, pulling him forward. "Slytherin. It's faster."

"But--"

"Dammit, you wanted a lesson in the dark arts," he whispered hoarsely, "here it is. It fucking hurts. Now get me to Slytherin or you'll be taking your lessons from a dead dark wizard."

This time Harry didn't argue. Following Draco's directions through the twisting corridors, he brought them to the entrance within a few minutes. He opened his mouth to ask what the password was but Draco beat him to it, coughing out "Ilmauzer" and stumbling inside before the doors fully opened.

The only light in the room, the crackling fire in the hearth fought a losing battle against the cold. Their breath misted in the air as Draco pointed vaguely at the side arch where the dorms lay. Harry looked around as he half-carried, half-followed Malfoy through the dungeons. Bricks and mortar gave way to hewn rock and stone so that Slytherin was nearly entirely comprised of a natural cave. By the time they reached the showers, Harry expected to see stalactites.

There were no cavernous formations, just a low ceiling and shower fixtures set directly into the rock wall. Draco stumbled into the first stall, loosening his robes and throwing them off before turning the hot water on full. He kicked off his shoes but another bolt through his heart made him start the ritual, not caring that his pants and top shirt were soaking through. Aware that Harry was still standing behind him, he clapped his hands together.

"Sithenes sceandu kasta..." he whispered, "an niht ic dragan, heonon ren an cleonsian min sawol."

At first the pain did not stop and he feared he had not made it in time. He repeated the spell, his hands clenched so tight that blood trickled from his palm as he reopened his wound. Leaning against the stall, he groaned as another spasm rocked through his back. He closed his eyes and said the spell one more time.

Harry's gasp told him he was saved. He looked down and saw thick strands of darkness sloughing off of his body like mud, splattering the green tiles and slowly slipping down the drain. The cramps disappeared and he swayed with the sudden lack of pain, nearly falling backwards. Instead he was caught and helped to the floor as the water continued to wash away all the accumulated magic.

"What on earth is that?" Harry asked, staring at the dark steaks down Draco's face.

"Residual magic," Draco answered, breathing deep. Exhausted, he turned over his hand and showed the other boy the black mud sliding off his clothes as if they weren't there. "I nearly didn't get it off in time."

Harry grasped his hand to see it closer, but he yelped and drew back instantly. "Ow! You're scalding yourself!" He reached forward and violently twisted the cold water faucet, bringing the temperature down to something bearable.

Draco didn't bother to mention that he couldn't feel the heat for all the dark magic still pouring off him, or that he was so tired he could have boiled to death and not cared. He merely relaxed, his comfort outweighing the fact that it was Potter holding him upright, especially since Pansy wasn't here to take care of him.

"What was that spell you said?" Harry asked. "That sithens kast thing."

"I'll explain it to you," Draco said between clenched teeth, "when I'm not half-dead. Give me a few minutes."

For a moment neither of them said anything as Harry contemplated what he'd just seen and Draco mourned the absence of his Slytherin friends who would have known what was going on. And Draco mourned Pansy's absence most of all, especially her intuition about when to shut up as Potter started on again.

"Dumbledore wanted me to see this," Harry realized, looking back down at the residue on the wet tiles. "The pain, the ritual, the darkness...he knew this was going to happen. He wanted me to see the drawback of dark magic."

"'Drawback'?" Draco hissed. "You think this is a drawback?" He angrily shoved Potter back and stood up, wobbling as he leaned against the wall and shook off the last black drops. "Stupid Potter, you really don't know a damn thing about us, do you?"

"I know you're evil," Harry shot back, getting to his own feet but sliding a little on the wet floor. "Dark wizards are nothing but bad. You don't care about anything or anyone once you turn from the light."

"Do you know anything about us yourself or can you only repeat the usual lies that everyone's told you?" Pushing by him, Draco gathered his robes and shoes and walked unsteadily back into the dungeon. He shivered in the dungeon air and hurried back to the common room where he sat down by the hearth and tugged off his shirt.

"If they're lies," Potter continued, "I never seen anything to make me think otherwise."

"Says the boy with glasses," Draco said. On the warm stones in front of the fireplace, he set out all of his wet clothes except his pants. "If dark magic's so evil, why are you going to learn it?"

"So I defend against it," Harry said naturally. "Unless you expect me to negotiate with it like Umbridge wanted."

A nasty smirk spread over Draco's face. "There's a fast way to lose your head." Feeling warmer now and painfree, his mood improved and he smiled. "Fine, then I'll teach you every dark and evil spell that I know, every way to hurt someone and curse them and kill them. And when I'm done, you'll be lucky if even that mudblood stays with you, because friend or not, every insufferably good pureblood hates the dark ones among them. Now then..." He nodded towards the main door. "Dumbledore only wanted me to lead the little Gryffindor by the hand so he wouldn't get lost coming to Slytherin. You know where it is now, so push off."

For several seconds, Harry stared at him without speaking. The only sound came from the fire and the echoes from the lake. After awhile, Draco grew uncomfortable and looked away, staring at the floor so he didn't have to see Harry's piercing green eyes or the assured tilt oof his head. When Potter started speaking again, it was almost a relief.

"I'm not like you," Harry said slowly. "I don't enjoy hurting people. But if I ever hear you call anyone a 'mudblood' ever again, I will hurt you, guest or not."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the common room. Draco silently glared at him until the wall closed up behind him. There was no doubt in his mind that Harry meant that, and as much as he despised being threatened, he had no friends to stand behind him and look menacing. It just wasn't fair, he could manipulate the entire Ministry of Magic into paroxysms of fear and confusion, but Potter usually managed to ignore every slight and insinuation. Only his anger ever got away with him, it seemed, and Draco was not that desperate to see Potter infuriated.

His pants were nearly dry so he stood up and walked across the room, stopping at the glass wall. The lake did not move as usual, its surface frozen and its deep waters calm. Its light turned pale gray in the constant snowfall so that he could see his reflection clearly in the glass.

When had his hair grown so long? It wasn't like his father's yet, but the ends nearly touched his shoulders. He hadn't noticed that he needed it cut, too busy freeing his father and then betraying the dark lord. He hadn't eaten much either, he noticed, his torso and arms too defined, his whole body too thin to be called whipcord. But his face...he sighed and tilted his head. Dark circles made his eyes look hollow, his skin was still an unhealthy pale, and he noticed several scratches that he hadn't felt before. Probably from sleeping as he flew between trees, he thought.

Hogwart's house elves seemed to have done a good job dusting the furniture so he pulled out a chair and sat down, resting his head on the table he used to do his homework on. Not so long ago he would have thrown everything he had into helping Slytherin's heir and wiping out every muggle and mudblood from the country, the planet even. And now...?

"Why did the dark lord have to be insane?" he whispered. Rallied together, the dark wizards and witches of the world would have stood against the light, putting their petty jealousies and rivalries aside as they took their chance at evening the scales long tipped in favor of the followers of Merlin, ever since the great battle between light and dark. He stared into the frozen waters of the lake for a long time, wistfully imagining what could have been if Mordred had not lost, if Voldemort had been worth following.

TBC...

Authors Notes:

1. I'll explain those dark spells Draco thought of during the meeting when he gets around to casting them. I'll also explain what ilmauzer is.

2. The spell Draco uses to dispel magic is rendered in mostly Old English, with some Old Norse tossed in. I make no apologies for the horrendous grammar.
sithenes sceandu kasta en niht ic dragan
since shadows cast and night I draw
heonon ren an cleonsian min sawol
hence rain and cleanse my soul

Sounds better in old English, huh?

3. If you don't know who Mordred is, I suggest you take a cursory glance over the Arthurian legends.