Triple Deception

Chapter Five; In which discoveries are made and plans are laid.

Harry stepped out of the fire and into a staring match between Dumbledore and Hermione. His thoughts of conversation with the Headmaster were abruptly pushed aside in favor of this new situation. When neither of the pair acknowledged his presence he tapped on the back of a chair and cleared his throat. Dumbledore sat back with… was that a growl? And gestured harshly toward the woman who promptly fell over Harry with half formed sentences and abstract ideas.

Harry, quite taken aback, grabbed his friend by the shoulders and sat her down in the chair again.

“Hermione!” She jerked and that sharp look of ‘don’t interrupt me when I’m studying’ came into her eyes. Harry thought she looked quite like she had taken too many pepper-up potions at once. “Start at the beginning… and stay in your seat!” He pointed at her with a stern look as he took an empty one; accepting tea from the Headmaster with a nod of thanks. Hermione wrung her hands and all but quivered in her excitement.

“I’ve figured it out. The elf magic I’d told you about a few weeks ago is accessible to non-elves.”

“That means Voldemort can get to-“

“Wrong!” Her smile was brilliantly large. “Remember the seven bloodlines I told you about? Riddle is one of them and the chosen bloodlines can’t use the magic; they just…” She gestured, “can’t get to it.”
Dumbledore sat forward here; “But he is no longer in his original body and therefore, the rule doesn’t apply.”

“Wrong again!” Unable to contain her so-far-unexplained glee, she jumped from the chair despite Harry’s impression of Snape’s glare. She began pacing the length of the room as she talked, Dumbledore followed her every move closely. “I use the term bloodlines loosely. The restriction is tied in with his essence, his…” She gestured again.

“Magical signature?” Harry supplied.

“Yes, exactly! Even if he knew how to get to it, the spell would recognize his signature and cancel it all out! I don’t know how they went about it but they did it and we can use it. Watch!” She paused in her back and forth and looked about at the random baubles among Dumbledore’s office. Pulling her wand she levitated a small blue sphere so that it hovered just over the Headmaster’s desk. Her eyes narrowed in concentration and her wand-free hand traced something in the air that hissed a strange blue-teal before dripping away. She replaced her wand inside her robe sleeve but the sphere remained hovering. She grinned. “Try and move it.”

Harry shared a glance with Dumbledore before they both looked again at the sphere. He reached out first; intending to refamiliarize himself with Hermione’s magic before dismantling whatever wandless spell she had preformed. What he discovered was something entirely familiar, yet drastically different. His brow furrowed as he tried to figure out the conflicting thought. He could feel Hermionie’s magic, like a pattern of speech one eventually became familiar with after years of listening, moving underneath another familiar, yet alien, signature he couldn’t identify.

“Very well done…” Dumbledore stared at the ball, apparently casting his own tests. Harry shifted, a thought coming to him.

“Headmaster; you know this already… don’t you?”
Both Hermione and Albus looked at him. Harry looked back at the Headmaster. Hermione followed. He shook his head. “Not casting the magic specifically, but the thinking process, yes. The castle is brimming with it, after all. How could I not know?”

“That’s why you gave me that book!”

Harry’s brows drew together in confusion. “Book?”

“Veneficus Priscus: A study in obscure magics-”

“Professor Snape mentioned that to me a few days ago.” Harry interjected on what was bound to be a long detailed description of the tome. “He said he hadn’t been able to reclaim his copy.” After a moment he added, “Draco said he had one too.”

Hermione piped up. “Well I’m not surprised; they’re a part of it. The Snape and Malfoy bloodlines are two of the chosen.”

Harry pulled that comment aside to detangle later. “That means they can’t access the magic either, right? So they can’t help us if we can use it against Voldemort unless we come up with a way to change their magical signature.” He looked again to the still-hovering orb above the Headmaster’s desk. Again he reached out toward it, testing its patterns. “What are the other bloodlines?”

“Oh you’ll love this.” Harry looked to her sharply at the strange note in her voice. “Black, Lupin, Weasley… and Trelawney.”

“Sirius?! Why didn’t he tell us?!”

She shrugged, “I don’t think he knew. Remus might and Sibyll; but I doubt the Weasleys know either.”
That was most definitely something to mull over. The Headmaster finally spoke. “Why don’t you start at the beginning, Hermione and explain all of this; and!” He held up a finger when she tried to dive into the topic, “Please try to keep it brief.”

--//--

Harry leaned forward in his chair, fingers to his temples as he fought off a headache. Hermione had spent the past… he looked at the clock, four hours explaining a lot of things he didn’t really care about. He nodded at the right times and asked questions so as not to be inconsiderate; she had spent the last three weeks studying the topic after all, but when it came right down to it, he didn’t care about they whys and wherefores but wanted to know the how; something she had heretofore failed to comment on. He had also been unable to divert the topic to the real reason he had come here (Voldemort’s future plans) and believed both Snape and Draco had long since gone to bed.

He had tuned out now and again, allowing his attention to focus on the hovering orb and examine it as thoroughly as possible. He had found the pattern in the magic and he already knew how to disable Hermione’s hold on the object. The question was, did the same technique apply to the elf magic because she cast it, or was this magic set to different standards and rules than he knew?

There’s only one way to find out, I suppose… The effort it took to separate himself from his magic was almost minimal. He left himself without thought and began rearranging what he saw as a tangle of strings around the ball. He could see a multitude of signatures at the edge of his vision, testifying to various cast magic around the room. Undoing that knot there and retying it here, twisting that string and removing that one altogether he tried to reorganize the tangle into something else. A loud thunk snapped him back to himself and he blinked to clear his vision.

“How did… what happened to my charm?” Hermione seemed quite upset over the matter while Albus peered at the bauble over his glasses curiously.

“I got rid of it… though I didn’t think it would work to be honest with you.” Harry stood and plucked the blue orb from the table, looking it over.

“Got rid of it?”

“Well, not got rid of it so much as redirected the magic. Where it went I’m not sure but it did what I wanted it to… Do you know any more charms?”

Hermione’s reluctance to change the subject warred briefly with her need to share the information she had collected. The information won out and she pulled a book out of a small back by her chair, handing it to Harry.

“Believe it or not, there are hundreds of books on the stuff. No one ever uses them because no one thinks they can so they’ve become somewhat of a collectors item. I take it you’ll want to learn, then?”

“Of course.” Harry accepted the book, replacing the orb on the Headmaster’s desk. Albus drew Hermione’s attention with another question, he seemed quite interested in how it all came about and she was only too glad to provide what information she could. Harry allowed them their talk, turning his attention to the book in front of him. It was old, the pages were yellow and brittle, and the writing was in script so small he could barely make it out. He read it anyway, skipping over the introduction and searching for the levitation charm Hermione had used. He found it and with the description of how to perform the magic, a diagram of the rune and how to draw it. He read the pages, skimming the history of the charm in favor of learning how to cast it. He traced the diagram a few times, then absently as he continued to read, memorizing the basic pattern.

The casting itself was simple; very much like wandless magic. Focus on the object you are casting on, the result you want, and the rune you will trace, then do it. He looked up from the book and found the blue orb. Pointing at the object he traced the letter in the air with no result. He frowned and went back to the book, flipping to the introduction to see if there was something important within it. There didn’t seem to be. He looked back to the orb, picturing the strands he had fiddled with before and their patterns. He traced the rune again, with the same result.

Harry closed the book and called the ball to him, hovering it at eye level and proceeded to stare. His magic had always looked like tree branches to him; oddly angled and twisted to create strange patterns and angles. He compared his tree branches with what he remembered of Hermione’s strings. It occurred to him that though the magic had been elf magic, it still took on Hermione’s signature of strings, meaning that his own branches would be mimicked in whatever elf magic he cast as well. Focusing on his personal signature he used it as a stencil to picture what the elf magic had looked like. It was a guess, but it was a logical one.
He pointed at the orb and traced the rune. It bubbled in the air, hissing like Hermione’s had done, but it was silver in color, not teal. He shook his head and came back to himself to find Hermione staring in shock and Albus trying to hide a grin. Magic hummed at the back of his mind.

“How… you…?” She snapped her mouth shut, worked her jaw, then tried again; “It took me two weeks to figure that out!”

Harry flipped back to the book, skimming the intro again; he hadn’t seen anything about the color of the rune and he wondered if it signified anything. The second run through found no other information so he looked up and around for another bauble. His search was short and he pointed at another small orb, this one red. It reminded him of a remembrall, actually. He levitated the orb and used his signature as a pattern again, tracing the rune and focusing on the elf-magic’s style. The rune boiled silver, just like before. He stopped his levitation charm and smiled inwardly when the orbs remained hovering in the air, controlled only by the elf magic. The hum grew louder.

“Why’s it silver?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Hermione snapped. Harry winced and tried to look apologetic. She sighed; “There are four colors and they determine the level of power the magic has. From weakest to strongest they are green, teal, silver, black. I’m not sure how the color is decided when you cast your first spell, but I do know that the color cannot be changed. There is only one strength of elf magic any person can cast. Yours happens to be stronger than mine, but not the strongest out there. The color is also used as a ranking system, of sorts, within elven culture. The more powerful your magic, usually, the higher your ranking. That’s the long and short of it but by no means the-“ She was interrupted by a yawn so large it cracked her jaw, “ -only variable”

“You need some sleep, Hermione, but before you go, do you know why it buzzes?”

She gave him an odd look; “Buzzes? What do you mean?”

He waved his hand around the back of his head, “I can… well, not hear it; but I can feel the magic buzz in the back of my mind… at least I think it’s the magic. It started the day Remus came.”

She shook her head absently, mentally rifling through her stores of information. “I’m not sure… I’ll look it up, though… How is Remus, by the way?” She turned to the Headmaster.

Albus frowned slightly. “He should be awake in a few hours. I’ll allow him to speak with you both if you would like but Poppy instructed me that he will be put into a healers sleep again almost immediately. Shall I call you two when he wakes up?”

They both nodded, Hermione’s punctuated by another yawn.

--//--

Remus looked terrible. Gashes across his chest and arms from either the spells that had been cast one him, or his own claws when in the form of a werewolf, crisscrossed older, and similar, scars that stood out a drastic white on his otherwise darker skin. Harry sat in a chair, elbows on his knees and chin on his hands, attention vacillating from Remus to Draco and back again. After Hermione had left the room, Harry had brought up the subject of Voldemort and his long term plan for himself and the blonde. The Headmaster had listened to his concerns but had vehemently opposed attempting to trick the Dark Lord and insisted that Harry not think of it again. They would find away around the problem eventually as it was not a dire threat at the moment. Harry had bickered with the old man for some time before the conversation was turned again and Dumbledore refused to allow it back.

Harry had grudgingly conceded his position and abandoned the man only to end up here, thinking about the whole ordeal. He honestly couldn’t go about as though nothing had changed. He was going to be set up with Draco whether or not he wanted it, and he would know the whole time, while if Snape and Dumbledore managed to convince Draco of the validity of the situation (he snorted softly here), he would never forgive Harry for pulling another job under his nose. No, this was something that concerned both of them equally and Harry’s Gryffindor honesty wouldn’t allow him to keep it from his colleague. Oddly enough, Harry’s revenge against Lucius fell under the Slytherin jurisdiction of his conscious and he had no qualms about keeping that bit of information from the blonde at all costs.

“You’re still here?” Harry glanced out of his thoughts to find Madam Pomfrey looking at him curiously.
“Dumbledore said he would wake in a few hours… How is he, Poppy?”

The mediwitch shuffled over to the man’s bed to begin a checkup, talking softly as she did so. “He was in a terrible state when he got here; mostly torn skin and bloodied hair. I don’t think there was a spot on him not covered in a bruise. He was unconscious and I felt that it would be prudent to keep him that way so I put him under a healers sleep while I fixed him up as well as I could. He had several hairline fractures that looked to be mostly self-inflicted. Severus said he had been on the receiving end of at least a dozen curses of various means but I think it was the last one that finally put him under; one that sends the body into convulsions and the mind into a backwards sort of existence. He only got a taste of it, but we’ll have to wait to see if there was any extended damage because of it.

“The bones have been healed as have most of the flesh injuries. The few that are left were too deep for me to heal in one go, that’s why he’ll need to go under again after he wakes up. I don’t know what spell was used, but he won’t survive too many more forced transformation without lasting effects. Ah-“

Harry’s attention snapped to a distinct movement Remus made with his hands, a clawing, of sorts, at the bed sheets. “He’s fighting the sleep, knows it’s not a natural one. Can’t have that….” She waved her wand and Remus growled softly, opening one eye briefly to test the light. With great hesitation his eyes adjusted and he turned his head, trying to orient himself. “Welcome back, Remus.” Poppy said with a gentle smile. The man tried to return it but ended up grimacing instead.

“How’re you feeling…?” Remus turned his head to the other side, seeking out the source of the voice. His mouth opened, Harry could see the remnants of slightly pointed teeth, but all that came out was a deteriorating gurgle that quickly developed into a rough cough. Poppy coaxed him to drink a thick potion and after a moment of difficult swallowing he tried again, managing “Thank Snape for me…” before the cough took him again.

Harry took the older man’s hand in his own and Remus gripped it harshly, as though it was his only lifeline to the world of the living. Madam Pomfrey clucked over him, asking if this hurt or if that was painful. Most of the questions were answered with a weak nod, much to Harry’s growing dismay. The mediwitch directed three more potions down the werewolf’s throat before she was satisfied. Harry watched as yellowed bruises, half healed, faded away to nothing. She repeated her questions and Harry was relieved to see that fewer of them were answered yes.

“You’ve still some heavy internal bleeding, Remus, but I can’t do anything about it unless I put you to sleep again…”

Harry covered a wince as his hand was crushed in the werewolf’s grip. Lupin nodded, though, and Poppy cast her spell quickly before he could change his mind. “If the wolf in him doesn’t fight it, he should stay asleep for a good two days… I doubt it’ll last that long, though.” Harry wormed his hand from the man’s grip, flexing his fingers gingerly. He was reminded, once again, why Remus always looked on the brightest side of things, keeping his anger in strict check. To let loose that beast within him would destroy him, he knew it and he feared it. So did Harry.

“Harry could you be my ground? I want to do what I can while he is still fully asleep.” Poppy positioned herself at the foot of the bed, stretching her hands over Remus’s body. Harry was about to decline, ready to argue that Snape was by far the better choice for such a thing, he had only done it twice after all, but the mediwitch seemed to be plunging forward despite whatever complaint he might have made and he had no choice but to do as she asked before she lost herself in her magic. He stood, linking his right hand with her left and stretching his other over Remus’s head.

Harry had time enough to close his eyes when he felt the full force of Madam Pomfrey’s magic barrel through him. He couldn’t control it, only Poppy could do that, but he could act as a go between, forcing the magic to trickle slowly or plow through in a tidal wave. Heavy healing magic, such as the kind she used now, was highly unpredictable and so a grounder was needed; someone who was familiar with the way strong magic acted, but who also was not related to the caster. Magical patterns, like DNA, were passed down from parent to child and similar magical signatures would enhance the magic’s force, rather than acting like a buffer as would opposing patterns. Such strong waves of magical energy were impossible to control and control was of the utmost importance in healing.

Snape had acted as Poppy’s grounder on more than one occasion and Harry had been present to observe the event a few times. He noticed that the mediwitch remained bolt upright, face angled slightly toward the sky, rather than toward the ground and the direction of her patients. Snape’s fingers on his free hand had twitched now and again but otherwise he too, had been perfectly still.
The wash of magic was abruptly cut in half and Harry struggled to alter his resistance to compensate and not cut of the flow entirely. He didn’t know what had caused the change but nor was he in a right state to either care, or figure it out if he did. He could barely feel himself, never mind observe that which was around him.

An indeterminate amount of time passed and Harry felt the flow of magic abating, slowly trickling out of his fingers either back into Poppy or over Remus who remained in his deep slumber. His fingers slipped out of Poppy’s suddenly lax grip and Harry blinked, stumbling backwards and catching herself on the chair he had vacated. Poppy crumpled where she stood but a black shape caught her before Harry could so much as raise a finger. He groaned and sat heavily in the chair, unable to remain awake a moment longer. He sagged and slipped into a black, dreamless sleep, briefly thinking that if he survived the night without nightmares he should probably do this more often.

--//--

Harry woke up feeling as though he hadn’t slept at all, though he was thankful he hadn’t dreamt. Well, he didn’t remember dreaming at least and that was just the same. He recognized the fake silence and distinctly sterile smell of the infirmary and remembered abruptly having acted as a grounder to help Remus. He didn’t try to open his eyes, not yet. If he remembered correctly his eyes would be sensitive to light and his ears to sound. He couldn’t hear a thing, though. Perhaps someone had placed a silencing charm around the bed? Wait. Bed?

He twitched his fingers, curling them in what was clearly a sheet. Sensations slowly fought their way to his mind. Someone must have moved him from Remus’s room after he had collapsed in the chair. Someone had been there to catch Madam Pomfrey but he didn’t remember who. He felt a brief pang of guilt that he hadn’t been able to help her but he shoved it away quickly. He wasn’t in any state and someone had been there, he remembered that clearly enough. Bugger, his thoughts were going in circles. This wasn’t helping anything.

He flicked one eye open and closed quickly, testing the light as he had learned to do over the years. Sometimes he wasn’t well enough to withstand the constant light of the infirmary. He was lucky this time and he opened his eyes slowly, letting them adjust. He was just wondering how long he had been asleep when the curtain was pulled aside and Snape stepped to the side of his bed. Harry blinked up at him, to tired to call on whatever mask was appropriate for the situation. “How long have I been out?” He whispered.

“About seven hours. It’s noon.” Snape’s voice was mercifully low.

Harry did some quick mental calculations. He and Poppy had finished working on Remus around five in the morning. The last time he had checked his watch it had been three. They had worked for at least an hour and a half. No wonder he slept without dreams.

“You shouldn’t have acted as a grounder without supervision. You know the results.”

Harry grunted. “Poppy won’t take a no when she’s made up her mind. How’s Remus?” Snape didn’t answer for a long time. Harry turned his head eventually to look at his former professor. “Sir…?” Severus took a seat beside the bed, silent. Harry, sensing bad news, struggled upright in the bed.

“His injuries were mostly superficial. All of those have been healed. The bleeding was stopped and any flesh injuries were fixed thanks to Poppy…” Harry could hear a ‘but’ in there somewhere. There was something wrong; Snape never skirted a point. “But his forced transformation left some lingering effects.” If Harry didn’t know better, he would have said Snape was having trouble coping with whatever had happened to Remus. Last time Harry had seen him, the only change were his teeth. He shifted in the bed, uncomfortable but also unwilling to push the subject. He had a right to know, but he was on uneven ground with the way Snape was acting. He had yet to deliver a single caustic remark.

“His teeth will not retract fully and he is having some motor difficulties. The muscles in his fingers spazam making it difficult for him to hold anything for a length of time. His eyes are also refusing to change back. Voldemort cast an old spell on him that will make him transform if anyone says a certain word. We don’t know what that word is yet, but even if we did; the more he is forced to transform, the less and less he will be able to return to completely human.”

Harry cringed; “Tom Riddle is a sick bast-“

Severus hissed and clutched his arm, staggering out of his chair and toward a growing noise outside of the curtain that enclosed Harry’s bed. There was a savage growl then a yelp and a whimper followed by a very long silence. Harry struggled out of his bed and pushed aside the curtain. In the middle of the room lay Remus, covered in dark fur with wolf ears and a tail. All three were slowly receding. Snape was crouched over the werewolf. He withdrew, revealing golden bands that muzzled and cuffed Lupin, holding him immobile. Two witches levitated the man and brought him back to his bed. Snape collapsed into a chair, fingering an empty vial.

“I suppose we know the words now…?”

Severus merely raised an eyebrow.

Harry nodded and moved back to his quiet bed. He had classes to teach tomorrow after all.

--//--

When Harry woke again it was dark. He stretched, taking note of sore muscles but was glad to find that he wasn’t body weary as before. He hunted down his glasses and slid from the bed quietly. A quick look around proved that everyone was asleep and the young teacher took the opportunity to escape the infirmary. Making his way down toward the dungeons for a well deserved meal and another long rest, Harry was most definitely not expecting to be jumped at whatever ungodly hour it was. Especially not by Draco Malfoy. His body protested the sharp angles of the wall he was pressed against but he made no move free himself. He was too tired for a fight.

“What in the world is this all about, Potter? I demand an explanation.” Draco’s voice was soft but no less strong in Harry’s ear.

The wizard grunted and made a weak gesture in the direction of his rooms. “Not here.” He pushed himself away from the wall only to be shoved back against it. He only winced at the discomfort.

“You’re not getting out of this so easily. You left me waiting in Snape’s rooms for three hours. Thee hours! Then I get news that you’re out cold in the infirmary. Now talk.”

“Not here.” Harry said again, shoving off the wall and half staggered-half walked toward his door, one hand to steady him on the wall. He put a palm on the middle of his chamber door and muttered “Open.” The latch clicked back and the door swung open, he gestured Draco inside and to the fire. With a long sigh, Harry sat as well, closing his eyes and relaxing again.

“Don’t fall asleep on me.”

What? Harry grunted and opened his eyes. Oh yeah.

“There was an eater meeting yesterday.” Was it only just yesterday? “Voldemort has come up with a spell of some kind to feed off of a mutual bond. More specifically, a romantic bond between you and I. Snape is the guinea pig that has been designated the task of setting us up and maintaining our relationship until it is strong enough for Voldemort’s purposes.”

“And no one was going to tell me.”

“They weren’t, no.”

“They?”

“Albus, Snape. I decided I couldn’t betray you like that, it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Draco laughed. “Oh you’re one to talk about fair, since when did you care about fair? What’s one more deception in the long scheme of things anyway?!”

Harry rolled his head to look at the blonde. “One more on my conscience, one more I could have avoided… one more mistake to atone for.” He sighed. “Anyway, Dumbledore and Snape don’t know I’ve told you. I am less inclined to begin some romantic liaison than you are, I’m sure. My proposition is, therefore, that we both go along with Snape’s attempts at getting us together for the time being. That, of course, will require a bit of effort if we’re to pull it off.”

Draco snorted; “Brilliant deduction.” He rubbed at his face, carding his fingers through his loose hair with a sigh. “Very well. I suppose this’ll mean candlelight dinners and moonlight serenades?”

“Huh. Only if that’s how you court someone. Personally, I’d take a sloppy dinner in the kitchens than something with seven forks.”

“Not one for genteel etiquette, are you?”

“Hardly. Living like a dog for five years allows you to forget such petty things.”

They fell into a comfortable silence and it was only after a long time spent staring into the fire that Draco rose to leave. Harry managed to speak as he reached the door. “Same rules as before then?”

Draco smirked; “I didn’t think you’d remember them.”

“They saved our lives on more than one occasion. How could I forget?”
“Yes… Same rules as before. For the sake of simplicity.”

“Of course.”

Draco left and Harry made it to his bed. His last thought before falling into dreams was that had gone entirely too well.