Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Oath Breaker ❯ Speaking with Ravens ( Chapter 7 )

Part 7

In the back of his runes class, doing his best to ignore Granger noisily scribbling notes, Draco stared out the window for the entire class, paying no attention to the lesson but remembering his conversation with Harry several nights before. He hadn't expected Potter to declare him a friend and spill his heart out to him, but he hadn't expected such a slap in the face either. In hindsight, he should have, but still...he scowled.

Stupid scar faced son of a mudblood ignorant bastard thinks he knows everything...

Worst of all, he didn't know why Potter's dismissal stung so badly. Why Potter's stare always made him look away when he could easily stare down Ministry officials who were comfortable in their authority. He sighed. Why on earth did he get angry at Potter merely for showing as much ignorance about dark wizards as anyone else?

An icicle smashing against the windowsill startled him and the rest of the class from their thoughts. The sound of breaking ice was starting to become routine now that the blizzard was over and the sun was slowly melting all the snow. Voldemort's weather manipulation created a strange time between winter and summer, uncomfortably cold but glaringly bright. The in-between feeling reminded him of dusk, the odd space between day and night, and like dusk it made him feel antsy and impatient, waiting for something unknown to happen. Classes blurred into each other during the day while the potions ran together at night. And every day without word from his parents or his friends whittled at his hope.

His father's journal helped ease the feeling of distance. In his spare moments after classes and before Snape's work, he'd stretch out on one of the couches in his common room and quietly read. Page by page, his family's life slowly unfolded in front of him. After the poisoning incident, his father's childish whining stopped and an eagerness to learn new spells and secrets grew. A fascination with curses developed. Even the messy handwriting became more practiced and elegant.

To his satisfaction, Draco noticed that his father was nowhere near as good with potions as he was. Young Lucius struggled with the potions that a fifth year should have been capable of and even his grandfather gave up trying to teach him the more advanced concoctions. He simply did not have the patience for long brewing times and never found the various ingredients interesting. During his years at Hogwarts, Draco had come to understand that in order to excel at potions, he actually had to fall in love with the subject. Under Snape's mentoring, it was inevitable that he did so, sometimes losing himself in the huge store of ingredients that Severus had to drag him back to work. Of course he felt his father's inevitable influence in his own inability to create love potions.

On the other hand, he seemed to be following in his father's footsteps as far as curses went. Hexes and jinxes came naturally to him, but although he found the effects of his dark spells immensely satisfying, his father seemed to find them absolutely enthralling. Lucius devoted long passages in his diary to the smallest details of a curse's effect on a victim, going so far as to cast impedimentia so he could watch skin slowly dry and crack, watch the eyes turn into fonts of blood. He showed an almost obsessive pleasure in tracing out complex incantations that sounded like songs, each of them powerful enough to affect nature itself but too long to use in a fight. Each one that Draco found tucked in the margins, with words scratched out and lines rewritten, he longed to try, and he always found himself mouthing them as he read.

He could not read the diary in class, however. The gold edging along the yellowed pages and the leather cover made it stand out from everyone else's textbooks, and he did not want the rest of Hogwarts too curious. After news of the potions class disaster circulated around the school, there were few places he could read without being watched, turning the castle into a prison. Even the Slytherin common room felt confining.

The bell rang, and he stood and left the class without looking at anyone. Instead of heading to the great hall where Hagrid would hold his classes until the snow completely melted, Draco headed for the library. Severus did not mind if he skipped that particular class and knowing that Ron was forced to sit in a class he didn't want to attend in the first place made skipping that much more enjoyable.

As usual, Madam Pince glared at him when he entered, but she didn't say anything. Snape had made it clear to the entire faculty that Draco had his permission as both the Slytherin head and his guardian to access any part of the castle at any time. Severus had also told Draco that if he did anything that reflected badly on himself or his master, he'd serve as a guinea pig for their more experimental poisons, but no one else knew that Draco had to be on his best behavior and he was determined to keep that a secret.

Rather than speak to her, Draco walked past her and into the Restricted Section. Being a guest meant he could not enjoy some of the privileges that the students did, but it also gave him a few perks, and free access to this section was one of them. He had no doubt that Pince had ranted and shrieked at Severus when he told her and she still openly treated him like a monster, but she had to allow it. Even Dumbledore had given his permission, although the headmaster was so accommodating that Draco wondered if the old wizard wasn't up to something. Draco found Dumbledore's constant cheerfulness disturbing.

Skimming over the shelves, he settled on the section reserved for research into trickery and tricksters. Coyote, Loki and Kurent: Mastering Trickery, Parsing Grammar to Cast Lies Within Truths, Bargain a Star To Win the Moon, and on the titles went, dozens of texts before him. Most he recognized from his father's once extensive library, now nothing but ash and cinders, but some of the titles were unfamiliar. Lingering over them, he found his choice difficult but finally settled on Deceiving the Will o' the Wisp, a guide promising to teach him techniques for capturing the most elusive creatures, successfully lying to the wiliest tricksters and overcoming the most sinuous spells.

He didn't believe a word of it, but the book's introduction was worded so confidently that he wanted to study exactly how the author had written such a convincing con job that it ended up in Hogwarts. He checked it out under Madam Pince's disapproving gaze, but as he turned to sit down at one of the tables, he noticed a certain redhead looking around the shelves for him. Draco ducked back into the Restricted Section and watched Ron from between the books.

Draco winced. Should have known the weasel would eventually come looking for him. He waited until Ron disappeared around a corner and then snuck out the main door, turning a corner down another hall before breaking into a run. He didn't know when Ron would give up searching the library and come down to the dungeons and he wanted to be long gone by then. When he reached the common room, he grabbed his broom and the cloak he'd left draped over a couch and ran back out again.

A few minutes later he was outside in the courtyard. Gray icicles hung off of every surface and the snow was dirty and muddy. His breath misted in the cool air and he whirled his cloak over his shoulders before he could feel the chill. With his book tucked safely away, he straddled his broom and gently kicked off.

The wind whipped around him as he flew up past the castle spires and circled high among the clouds. He knew coming outside like this was risky, but he desperately needed time out of the cramped dungeons and crowded halls. From up here, the castle looked like a dollhouse and the quidditch pitch looked like a toy added on to the side.

While he was looking down, a red dot appeared in the courtyard. Draco hissed in surprise and flew up above the nearest cloud, hiding even though he was sure Ron couldn't spot him this high up. No wonder Potter walked around at night, he thought. If Ron was this tenacious looking for someone he didn't like, Draco could only guess how he dogged his friends.

But he couldn't hide up here forever. If nothing else, his legs were starting to hurt as the broom handle aggravated fading bruises. Hoping Ron wouldn't spot him, he angled down towards one of the battlements out of sight from the rest of the castle. But because his shoes were not made for ice he slipped sideways as he landed, slamming his shoulder into the masonry.

Groaning, he slowly sat up and heaved a sigh. It wasn't fair! Voldemort's evil blizzard couldn't finish him off so the damned ice was trying to break his neck. He kicked the broom away and smacked the ice with his hand, but that only hurt his knuckles. And now the bruise on his shoulder started to throb painfully.

"It's not fair," he muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest. He lost his house, his parents, his friends, his wonderful Nimbus 2000 that had proper charms on it, and for what? To hole up by himself like a scared little snake in a burrow fiercely hissing at the passing animals, trying to trick them into thinking he was venomous. He put his hand on his shoulder but it only made it hurt more and made his eyes tear up. Furiously he wiped them dry and looked around out of habit. If Severus heard that his nearly of age apprentice was carrying on like this, the potions master would promise to give him something to really cry about.

The wind picked up and blew his cloak back, and he hurriedly wrapped it around himself tighter. How stupid to think he could read up here. It was cold enough that he was surprised it didn't start snowing again. From the look of the forbidden forest, it was hard to believe that they were at the tail end of summer. The trees were nearly all barren and covered with ice, and even in the sunshine the forest looked dark. Dozens of crows perched on the cold branches, huddled together and cawing loud enough to drown out the wind.

"So here you are."

Draco jumped in surprise. Behind him on his firebolt, Harry flew up and settled on the battlement, stepping off his broom without slipping. Draco frowned and looked away.

"I don't need protecting up here," he snapped, "and I'm in no mood for company."

"That's kind of obvious," Harry said. He sat down beside him anyway.

How the hell did he find me? Draco thought. He did his best not to look at Harry or even acknowledge his presence. Why were they so dead set on following him all day?

"Here," Harry said, shoving a bag in front of him.

Draco leaned back and didn't touch it. Anything could have been inside and he knew that Harry was friendly with Ron's twins. "What? If you think I'm going to fall for a bloody trick--"

"Get off it, Malfoy," Harry said, shoving the bag into his hands. "I'm not like you, there's no tricks inside."

Scowling even harder, Draco silently untied the knot holding the straps together and looked inside. Instantly his scowl faded and he laughed in delight. Two dead hydras lay curled together at the bottom.

"They died this morning," Harry said. "The big one killed them and Hagrid was going to give them to you, but you didn't show up to class."

"'Give them to me'?" Draco echoed. "He wasn't sobbing about me or Severus killing them?"

"He was crying," Harry admitted, "and don't you dare throw that in his face. But he's not stupid, either."

"That's debatable," Draco said softly, but he didn't say it loud enough for Harry to hear. Still smiling, he tied the bag back up again and set it aside.

"That's your broom?" Harry suddenly asked, and he leaned back and stared at it.

Draco hesitated. He wasn't ashamed of it, really, but it wasn't a modern broom and after all the bragging he'd ever done about his Nimbus, his present broom seemed like a poor comparison. "A besom, actually," he said, not mentioning that he rarely thought of it as such. "A family heirloom."

"I didn't get a good look at it that night," Harry said. "It looks like it's still alive."

Just lifting the broom told Draco that. Heavier than before, the wood looked newly hewn and the twigs looked like they were developing the tiny nubs that would become leaves. It even smelled fresh, like green wood. He ran his fingers over the handle and pulled it a little closer to himself.

"How did you not fall off?" Harry asked. "Cross country in the middle of a blizzard and with a broken hand."

Why does he keep asking me things? Draco thought. Either Potter was trying pump him for information or someone had told him to play nice after finding out about their little argument in the kitchen, since upsetting their assistant potions master -- well, he wasn't a master yet, but he'd settle for being an adept -- was not good for the war effort. Regardless, it set him on edge. He didn't answer but kept his eyes focused on the quidditch pitch. And a thought he'd been trying to push back rose up fully formed in his mind.

Stupid, he knew he was stupid to dwell on the fact that Slytherin would have to forfeit every single game this year. Stupid to dwell on that when the team itself might not survive the trip to Hogwarts, that their parents could be dead, that Voldemort could destroy the ministry.

He glanced back at his besom. Stupid when he didn't even have a proper broom. Then again, it had carried him across the countryside and through one skirmish. Who knew what else it was capable of?

"When's your first game?" he asked.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Quidditch," Draco sighed as if Harry was dense. "Who are you playing first?"

"Oh...um, Hufflepuff I think. Next month. And then...oh." Harry's tone turned sorrowful as he realized what Draco was thinking of. Not that he hadn't thought of it before or that the gryffindors hadn't been cheering over the upcoming forfeits, but seeing Draco's resigned face made the loss seem like a little casualty of war.

He was saved from having to reply. Neither of them heard the lunch bell but they saw the students coming out into the courtyard, milling around and tossing the last bits of white snow at each other. Draco grumbled as he watched them. He didn't want to attract attention, which meant that he'd have to stay up on the battlements until lunch was over. Then again, if he could find an open window nearby...

Luck was with him. The astronomy tower window was wide open. He stood and picked up his broom, tying the bag containing the hydras to the handle. Beside him, Harry scrambled to his feet and grabbed his own broom.

Draco felt a little silly flying inside the tower, but it was better than landing in a courtyard full of staring students. The classroom was empty and he landed on his feet. To his irritation, Harry landed behind him and showed every intention of following him through the castle.

"Don't you have anything better to do than chase after me?" he snapped. "Go practice bloody quidditch or something. Go show off your new dark spell to your friends--"

"I wanted to talk to you about that," Harry interrupted. "Hermione and me have that risana spell down pretty well. She figures it's time we got another one."

Already? Lunch forgotten, Draco turned to hide his wince and started walking down the tower to buy himself time. He hadn't expected them to learn that spell so quickly and did not have the next spell picked out yet. As he walked, keeping ahead of Harry so he didn't have to look at him, he figured that he'd have to pick out several spells for the next few months.

Start easy, he thought to himself. He could always teach him a couple spells offhand and spend the night going through the grimoire to select more for the coming weeks. And hopefully they wouldn't notice that the next spell didn't need the target spell they'd spent so much time learning.

"Crawenen," he said softly to himself. He turned around and looked at Potter. "Fine," he said. "Meet me by Hagrid's little hovel in ten minutes. I'll teach you a new one."

Without waiting to see if Harry agreed, Draco continued his walk to the dungeons and to his relief, Potter did not follow him.

Once inside his common room, Draco tossed his library book aside and fished out a wooden box from inside one of the many cabinets. A quick caldea spell, and the inside of the box froze with a thick layer of ice suitable for keeping the hydra bodies from decomposing. He left a note on top in case Severus returned down here before he did and then went back upstairs, taking his usual route away from most of the students and slipping away through one of the side doors.

He spotted Hermione's bushy hair before he spotted Hagrid's shack, and he sneered. "Oh wonderful," he muttered under his breath as he walked towards them, "just had to call his filthy little mudblood. Can't do a thing without that damn know it all."

She was already frowning at him when he reached them. No doubt she'd seen him complaining to himself and even though she hadn't heard the words, she could probably guess what he'd been saying. "You're late," she said.

Ignoring her, Draco looked at Harry, who was sitting on a frozen pumpkin. "Not here," he said simply. "Follow me."

With them in step behind him, he followed the edge of the forbidden forest, keeping an eye on the trees. Crows filled each one, but always in distinctly numbered groups. He glanced at Harry who followed at his right shoulder. "This spell works on magpies, crows," he said, "any bird as long as its black. But you want to find the right number. Different numbers will change what you hear. There's a rhyme for it to help remember."

"Oh, I know this," Hermione said. "It's the magpie poem, isn't it? One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy--"

"No," Draco said, smiling as her mouth clicked shut in surprise. "Muggle poems are worthless pieces of garbage, twisted from our spells and as useless as the people who use them. Now listen carefully. 'One for sorrow, two for mirth'," he began to recite, slowly and deliberately. "'Three for death, four for birth, five for heaven, six for hell, seven for a witch's spell'."

He stopped at a small gray sapling nearly breaking from the weight of seven heavy crows perched on its branches. The crows stared back.

"You're not divining anything from them," Draco said to Harry, making sure Hermione knew she was being ignored. "You're just trying to hear them accurately. Less than seven and their words will twist according to their number."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

Hermione stood beside him and glared at Draco. "That if you ask two crows about the weather, they'll just laugh at you."

Draco fumed but didn't reply except to raise his wand and softly say "crawenen." Harry and Hermione both did the same. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, but gradually the harsh cawing turned into whispers that echoed around them.

"...children aren't going away..."

"...they might throw stones at us..."

"...then we'll peck out their eyes, rotten humans, all of them..."

"...fine feast they'll make, when they stop thrashing..."

"...so hard to tell when they're dead sometimes..."

"...chase you off just as you get a mouthful..."

Shuddering, Hermione turned to Draco. "When does this spell wear off?"

He shrugged. "For you, five minutes. For me, half an hour."

Harry was going to ask why that was but the crows drowned him out.

"...insolent children to talk over us..."

"...wasn't going to talk to them anyway..."

"...supper's nearly ready in the forest besides..."

"...owl's still thrashing, not ready yet..."

"...worth the wait, though, worth the wait..."

Draco blinked. "An owl?"

"...it wants our owl?..."

"...it wants our feast?..."

"...can't join the feast!" One of the crows flapped its wings furiously. "...our feast, our feast!"

"...we waited, it's ours, it's ours..."

"...insolent children wanting our owl..."

And as one, the seven crows flew up into the air and turned a broad circle before flying into the forest. To Harry and Hermione's surprise, Draco ran after them, cursing that he hadn't brought his broom. As the gryffindors struggled to keep up, the slytherin leaped over fallen tree trunks and forced his way through brambles, immediately unclasping his cloak when it caught on a thorn bush. Fortunately the dense trees kept the birds from flying too fast and he managed to keep them in sight until they swooped to the ground in a circle around a large gray owl.

"Get away from him!" Draco yelled as he stumbled into them, nearly hitting one as he swung clumsily at it. Cawing angrily, they nonetheless flew out of reach into the branches and stared at him as he knelt beside the owl. His eagle owl lay prone on a patch of dirt and wet leaves, and scratches in the dirt showed where it had both crashed and tried to get up again.

"Ilmauzer..." he whispered, touching its outstretched wing. Mistaking his touch for a crow's, it gave a loud screech and flapped its wings but couldn't move from its position. He cast a sleep spell and then gently folded its wings and cradled it in his arms.

"Ilmauzer's your owl?" Harry asked, suddenly understanding the slytherin password. "Why is it out here?"

"Pansy must have sent him back," Draco said, and sure enough he spotted a tiny slip of paper attached to the owl's leg. Shivering, he started walking back to the edge of the forest, ignoring the crows who called him "thief," "evil child" and other epithets. The crows followed him all the way to the edge of the forest, and a couple even tried to fly close and peck at his face, but they were scorched by Harry's incendio spells before they reached him.

Every student stared at him as he walked through the courtyard and into the castle. Whispers started flying and it was impossible not to hear them.

"...look how he's holding that poor owl..."

"...a real dark wizard wouldn't care..."

"...you think he's a dark wizard?..."

"...got to be, you read the Prophet yourself..."

"...and you know who his father is..."

"...but his father was cleared of all charges again..."

"...Dumbledore wouldn't let him stay if he was dark..."

Let them suspect, he thought. They wouldn't try anything if they only suspected. Too many falsely accused wizards and witches still burned in their collective memory. No one would try anything until they were sure of what he was, and he was determined not to prove it to them. He was mean, yes, petty, spiteful, cruel and sometimes scary. But dark? They weren't sure. Yet.

Madam Pomfrey was alone in her office when he walked in and set Ilmauzer on the nearest bed. Startled at seeing an owl in her hospital, she rushed over and looked down at both it and Draco. "You should've taken it to Hagrid," she scolded. "I treat people, not--"

"I don't trust him with Ilmauzer," Draco said, not budging an inch. "There's got to be something you can do."

Staring at him for a moment, she hesitated before snapping out "Malfoys!" and went digging around in the cabinet behind her desk.

Something soft was pushed into his hands, and he looked up at Harry, then back down at his cloak. "You picked it up," he said, a little surprised.

"On the way back," Harry said. "You didn't look like you'd remember."

After shaking it free of leaves and ice, Draco draped it over his cold owl and spread it evenly so it wouldn't ruffle the feathers. Ilmauzer visibly relaxed as he warmed up.

"You really care about it, don't you?" Harry said.

"He was a gift from my father," Draco said in a tight voice. His owl was more than just a gift, though. After all, he wheedled gifts from his parents often. But his father had given him this owl as a surprise, almost like a coming of age present. Those types of gifts were far and few between, and he treasured each sign of his father's pride. Absently he twisted the silver ring on his right hand. Emblazoned with the serpent of his family crest, it was his father's gift to him for his thirteenth birthday.

Despite her repeated protests that Hagrid should be treating the owl, after a few minutes ministering to it Pomfrey stood back and sighed. "Aside from some mice and some rest, it should be fine. I wouldn't move it for awhile, though, let it get some sleep for now." She stared Harry and Hermione. "And you two should get ready for your next class. The bell's going to ring any minute now."

"Already?" Hermione gasped, looking around for the nearest clock. "Oh no, my assignments are all up in the common room."

"You'd better hurry," Pomfrey said.

Hermione dashed out, but Harry hesitated by the bed. "How did you know it was your owl?" he asked Draco. "How'd you even know you should teach us that crow spell today? It doesn't have anything to do with the target spell you taught us."

Draco shrugged, and he winced as the motion felt stiff and sore. "I didn't. It was just lucky." He glared at Potter but he didn't have the energy to put any real emotion behind it. "Go on, you've got classes. Push off already."

"You've got a class, too," Harry insisted.

"No, he doesn't," Pomfrey said, giving Draco a disapproving look for his attitude. "Go on. He's safe here and you don't want to be late."

Looking at Draco with narrowed eyes, Harry left the hospital with one last glance over his shoulder at him. When they were finally alone, Draco heaved and sigh and sat back. "Is it really that obvious?"

"If you know what to look for," Pomfrey said. She found the bottle full of his particular medicine and brought it over to him. "Here. Remember, one sip. And then you'd better lie down and take a nap. What were you doing outside, honestly?"

"Running through the forest without a cloak," he answered. He swallowed without gagging, which after years of swallowing Snape's potions wasn't that difficult.

"Yes, I suppose that would cause an attack," she said, taking the bottle back.

"Do you know what brought my owl down?" Draco asked.

"Probably just flew too far in the cold," she said, but she didn't sound sure. "It might have been jinxed down, though. There's no way to tell now. Come on, lay down. I'll wake you after the last bell."

Not the way he'd wanted to skip charms and potions, but it was better than being miserable in his classes. While she went back to her desk, he finally turned his attention back to his owl and the note around his leg. He slipped it free and took it with him to the bed directly across, and as he lay down, he unrolled the scrap of parchment and read.

Can't say much. Afraid of wolves. Went warren. Will hop out when the wolf eats. P.

Their familiar code made a small smile creep over his face, and he clutched Pansy's message protectively under his pillow. His friends were not safe yet but they were still alive and weeks of worrying slipped from his mind. When he fell asleep, for the first time in several days he did not dream.

A few hours later, a rough hand shook him awake. "Get up, you lazy child."

Despite Pomfrey's annoyed chastising going on in the background, there was no mistaking his master's voice. Blinking away sleep, Draco wordlessly offered Severus the slip of paper in his hand as he sat up. If Snape was really upset, then Pansy's note might calm him down a little.

"How long was I asleep?" Draco asked, noticing how far the sun had set.

"Enough to miss two classes," Severus snapped.

"Not long enough," Pomfrey answered, glaring at Snape. She put a hand on Draco's forehead. "No fever or shaking...all right, you can go now. No more running around in the forest, hear me?"

He nodded once and swung his legs over the side of the bed, waiting for Snape's scolding. It didn't come, and as he looked up he was surprised to see his master smiling just a little. "Sever--?"

"Get up," Snape said, already walking towards the door. "And get your owl."

Hurrying like a good apprentice, Draco rushed over to Ilmauzer and pulled off his cloak. To his relief, his owl hooted and stood, stretching its wings out before hopping onto his outstretched arm. When he reached the door, however, he spotted Severus walking not towards the dungeons but towards the front of the school. He hurried and caught up, grimacing slightly as he kept his arm up under his heavy owl.

"Where are we going?"

"To the headmaster," Snape said. "To deliver this message personally."

Draco's eyes widened and he walked faster so that he could see Severus' face. "But...she wrote that so no one but us would understand it!"

"Exactly."

They came to a stop in front of the headmaster's office and the old password of "cherry bombs" opened the door again. As they went up, Draco heard voices in the office and sighed. Harry and Granger were already there. The Slytherins came in quietly and so heard the tail end of their conversation.

"--sure I saw a message with his owl," Hermione said.

"But then we noticed Draco was shaking," Harry said. "So I forgot all about it."

"'Shaking'?" Hermione asked. "Are you sure? I didn't--"

"Why don't we ask them," Dumbledore said, smiling behind his desk as he waved in the pair. "You've caused quite a stir today, Mr. Malfoy."

"There was indeed a message, sir," Severus said before Draco could reply. He handed the slip of paper to Dumbledore, who scanned it quickly with a furrowed brow.

"Can't say much. Afraid of wolves. Went warren. Will hop when the wolf eats. P." Dumbledore looked up, somewhat baffled. "I can surmise that Miss Parkinson was worried about someone catching the owl, and I assume that the wolf eating refers to the new moon...but went warren? I'm afraid I've never heard that phrase before."

"You wouldn't," Severus said. "It's a phrase peculiar to dark wizards' children, somewhat like nursery rhymes or made up languages. We usually forget them after a few years."

"Ah..." Dumbledore said, as if suddenly understanding something. "This has to do with the way the children are brought up, hidden from the world."

"Specifically, they are treated like animals," Snape said, sneering at Hermione's gasp of revulsion. "Until they are capable of defending themselves, they must be camouflaged like fawns and hidden like rabbits in a warren. It is only very recently that we have begun to let them out to attend school. That is what she meant. They will come out when they feel safe, when the new moon rises and the night is dark enough for them to move."

"But why didn't she just say that?" Harry asked. "Any other dark wizard would have understood it, so what's the point?"

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "That we would not have understood it," he said, staring at the message. "Miss Parkinson is telling us that she does not trust anyone except Mr. Malfoy. Not even me."

"I warned you that the war will not end with the dark lord's death," Snape pressed on. "Even if Lucius leads his knights side by side with your aurors, the moment the death eaters fall, the two sides will turn on each other just the same as the last thousand years."

"No," Dumbledore said. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. "Worse. The forces of light will be emboldened by victory and the forces of dark will think to strike immediately while we're off balance. The result..." his voice trailed off.

"A butcher's bill I imagine you don't want to pay," Severus said. "Even Hogwarts would not be spared. I guarantee the dark children will turn just as quickly. Their memories are kept fresh by their nightmares."

No one spoke for several seconds. Draco glanced at Hermione, who's face was drawn up as if she was trying to solve a puzzle and realizing she didn't have all the pieces. When he looked at Harry, he blinked. Potter was looking straight at him. For a moment he held his stare, but Draco soon turned away. Harry's damn eyes were so vivid they seemed to look right through him.

"And you?" Dumbledore asked, catching Draco's attention. "You've been a student here for a little over six years now, met the children on the other side, so to speak. Could you kill those who were once your classmates?"

Although he was facing the most powerful wizard of that side, Draco didn't hesitate. Lying to Dumbledore was useless anyway. "I wouldn't be their classmate anymore," he said. "I'd just be another dark wizard." His voice lowered to a hiss as he thought of the old war flaring up again. "And I'd show them exactly why they're so afraid of us."

Dumbledore nodded as if he'd expected that answer. "Severus, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I would like to speak with you further about this, but not tonight. It's been a long day for all of us."

With a clipped nod, Snape turned to leave. Draco kept his eyes on his master's back so he wouldn't have to look at Potter again. As they left the office, neither of them spoke. Draco had a hundred questions -- how will Pansy get here? why hasn't my father sent a message? do you think my mother's still alive? do you really think we'll go to war again so quickly? -- but he knew his master had no answers and would only be irritated if he asked.

When they reached the stairs, though, Draco walked a little nearer to Severus and held Ilmauzer closer. Classes had not let out too long ago and students still filled the hallways. When everyone saw the pair of Slytherins walking amongst them, conversations stopped and people stared out of the corner of their eyes, watching them go by. Behind their backs, whispers followed.

"...heard he got sick saving his owl..."

"...but he's still a Malfoy..."

"...but they're against You-Know-Who..."

"...maybe..."

"...maybe..."

By the time they reached the dungeons, the silence felt like a tangible relief. Draco shifted Ilmauzer to his other arm and gently stroked its feathers. He knew he should send it up to the owlry but he wanted to keep it close for awhile.

"Well," Snape said, eyeing the bird, "at least your foolishness should subdue the more persistent rumors in the school."

Draco didn't argue. Running into the forbidden forest after a murder of crows was foolish, no matter what his reason. He was lucky that the crows hadn't been lying, or that death eaters weren't lying in wait for him, or simply that he hadn't run into any centaurs.

"What rumors?" he asked.

"You haven't heard them whispering?"

"I hear them, but they stop when they see me."

"They suspect what we are," Severus said. "But because your family is so damn flashy--"

"We're not flashy!" Draco argued.

"Blowing up the manor was low-key, then?" Severus scoffed. "You're as bad as your father. Whenever a Malfoy gets into trouble, it's always spectacular. I'm amazed Lucius managed to keep your family's allegiances a secret for so long. Money can pay people to look the other way but considering the way you two act, you'd have to pay them to be blind."

It was an old argument that Draco had heard Snape have with his father, so he simply kept his mouth shut and let him vent. Once inside the common room, Draco set Ilmauzer to perch on the back of a chair. "Potter gave me two of Hagrid's hydras earlier today," he said, nodding at the box.

"I saw them," Severus said. "We'll dissect them tomorrow morning. For now, stay inside Slytherin. I'll have your dinner sent here since I know you haven't eaten today."

Stay inside? Draco looked up with wide eyes. "I...I haven't done anything wrong, have I? I know I shouldn't have run into the forest like that but--"

"It's not that," Severus said, pausing near the fireplace. He considered his words carefully before he spoke again. "Today I examined Slughorn's stockroom. Very few of his ingredients have been compromised, but the items tampered with were all earmarked for your potions class."

Several seconds went by before Draco understood the full implication. "You think I'm being targeted...or is someone trying to frame me for an accident?"

"Either would serve the dark lord's purposes," Snape said. "If you were not killed in an accident, you could still be accused of causing it. The rumors against you are already strong, especially outside Hogwarts."

Draco sunk into the nearest chair and rested his head against his hand. "And an incident could bring the good wizards of the world storming into Hogwarts screaming for my head."

"Quite possibly." Severus stared sternly at him. "So in the future, do not try to escape your escorts during the day. If nothing else, they serve as witnesses that you're not jinxing students."

"Wonderful," Draco muttered. He watched his master leave but didn't move until dinner popped onto the table in front of him several minutes later. He didn't even taste it and finally pushed it aside for Ilmauzer to finish.

The library book he'd checked out earlier lay on the table, so he grabbed it and crossed over to the fireplace where he flopped down on the longest couch, propping himself up on his elbows as he opened Deceiving the Will o' the Wisp to the first page. Eventually he grabbed his cloak and threw it over himself as the night grew cold.

Chapter One

A complete understanding of the nature of deception in both animals and wizards is vital to casting deceits and overcoming them. Much like magical camouflage, such as a will o' the wisp's distant flicker, nature's deceptions depend on the intended victim never discovering that an illusion is being perpetrated. If the illusion is even suspected, clues become obvious and the illusion fails. The slightest mistake destroys the whole charade.

Similarly, illusory spells must be carefully balanced between hiding too well or betraying their true nature. A wisp must appear close enough to an unwary traveller as to seem like a friendly lantern but remain at a distance so the traveller never sees its vaprous form. In this manner a wizard conceals his own illusion within his victim's own false perception.

Mere illusion is surpassed by true trickery, however, when the two worlds come together, creating subtle disguises that defy detection and that, even when guessed, do not allow their true nature to be revealed except through the most extraordinary circumstances.

TBC...

Authors notes

1. caldea -- from the Old English ceald, cold

2. crawenen -- from Old English crawe, crow