Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Principle of Sympathy	By : heerayni Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5831 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not Own any part or character from The Harry Potter series, Or The Master of Magics Trilogy, They belong to J.k. Rowling and Lyndon Hardy, i make no money from this.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Author's Note:

*Warning for this chapter: Some graphic violence and mention of rape and murder.*

Reviews are extremely important to me at this point, so keep them coming. Be kind and generous!:(

Chapter 6. Unclaimed Loyalty:

Ey ziyân u ey ziyân eu ey ziyân u ey ziyân

Hûshyârî dar miyân-e bî-khudân u bî-hushân

What a loss, loss, loss, loss it is

to remain sober among the intoxicated and the unconscious.(Rumi)

The day he broke into Severus' mind was the day he found that he was supposedly a necromancer. He also found out that in order for Potter to win the war against Voldemort, Potter would not only have to destroy the Horcruxes, but also die himself, because Potter himself was an accidental Horcrux. The plans Draco had already made of escape from the Dark lord and rescue of his family fell down like a house of cards.

But giving up had never been Draco's inclination. He knew that he had to save Potter. He was a Necromancer God damn it! Even if it was such a new revelation, even if the Necromancy as known at the time in the wizarding world was nothing but a joke. It wasn't.

He knew what he had seen in the Stone when he was seven years had to be powerful magic. Not a matter of joke at all.

So the endless seeking started. In the beginning Severus stood like a stumbling block in Draco's way, but Severus gave up when he found that Draco was just insane enough to consider him a stepping stone rather than a stumbling block.

Severus gave in at last when they went back to Hogwarts for the seventh year. Severus being the head-master of Hogwarts gave Draco access to a lot more than he could have ever gotten complete with permission to leave castle grounds when he required it. It took Draco more than three months to finally find a lead to the kind of information he needed on Necromancy. He could not believe his luck and stupidity. It occurred to him as he was on the train going back to the manor for Christmas holidays, that if it was the Malfoy blood-line which was cursed with the power of Necromancy in the first place, then it would be the Manor that would hold the most answers to what he was seeking. A way to prevent Harry Potter from dying his inevitable death when the times comes.

After covert searching and perusing through Malfoy libraries, during the first week of the holidays, Draco was quickly running out of leads. Other than information that had passed on through word of mouth or in the blood bound journals of some of his ancestors, who were not necromancers themselves, there was nothing that scratched even the surface on the subject. There were only acknowledgments that Necromancy, which was formidable and an abomination did exist and the modern version of the magic was indeed a cover-up. In one of those journals Draco found the reference to the story of Belenos Malfoy, one of his ancestors who apparently was the one who commissioned the Ceremonial Hall down at the family burial grounds. Out of context of course but something egged Draco on. Belenos Malfoy had lived around fifteenth century. His commissioning of the Ceremonial hall and then the re-building of many of the underground tombs was what intrigued Draco in the first place. The story or rather the legend was very well-known in almost all pure-blood families.

It was said that the Malfoy ceremonial Hall was made as a tribute to Belenos' wife Zenovia, a beautiful Greek pure-blooded witch of formidable power, who died during child birth. Belenos followed her once his son was of age and able to assume the title of Lord Malfoy. It was the only story or legend regarding love, devotion or obsession if you would call it in Malfoy family history. Still the story of Belenos and Zenovia intrigued the young Slytherin. That much obsession, dying of the lover and Necromancy in the blood line. He wondered if it was all connected.

Draco remembered clearly how he was never allowed to wander off towards the Burial grounds when he was a child and how his father had moved the Quidditch pitch to the farthest point, away from the burial grounds so that the child would not be tempted. He wasn't then. But he was now. Something in his instinct told him that he would only find the solution to his problems in communion with the dead.

After a few days of careful manipulation Draco was finally able to get himself assigned for the Malfoy Estate boundary patrols at night by Avery, who was in charge of assigning patrolling duties. Luckily enough Avery thought it would be a far better punishment for being a weakling for Draco to do it alone, all night long. Draco was dying in anticipation which was mistaken for fear of course.

He wondered what he would find down in the Underground resting chambers. That was if he was able to get in undetected in the first place.

After perusing around the ceremonial hall and finding nothing of consequence Draco finally found the entrance to the underground tombs of his ancestors which was through a hidden door tucked behind the toga of the statue of Athena.

The door had a concealing charm, making it visible to only to The Lord Malfoy or heir apparent. Determination set, he knew he had little time to explore. So throwing caution to the wind Draco descended down those steps.

More than an hour later he found himself staring at the closed iron and marble door in his wand light to what appeared to be the Tomb of Belenos Malfoy.

A touch of his bleeding finger on the Blood seal lock had clicked it open. The sconces on the wall came to life straight away as he stepped into the vaulted chamber. It was eerily clean in there just like in all other tombs lined with polished marble the tomb had lit up like a shrine. The air was still inside but not stale. The centre piece of the whole display was a deep maroon marble sarcophagus. It was a strange color of marble to choose for one's sarcophagus if you compared it to the hundred others Draco had seen in the hour before which were in varied shades of green, black or grey.. Draco reached it cautiously and stepped up to the altar where it rested. The sarcophagus was blank unlike all others, with only the old Malfoy crest that depicted a dragon laying in a lair made of serpents and Peacock feathers, engraved on the lid and a similar round blood seal lock that had been on the door of the tomb. A single sentence carved just underneath the Malfoy family motto in Latin:

"Solum dotata et dignus tetigero" Draco read the Latin fluently and in a voice higher than a whisper. A chill ran through Draco. His heart told him that this was it with its violent thumping.

"Only the worthy and gifted shall touch." He translated the sentence to calm himself down. He was about to do the unthinkable, the abominable. He was about to exhume and defile the rest of an ancestor. But locks were placed only on the things that were meant to be opened. Touching the round blood seal, carved with runes with his still bleeding finger from when he had opened the door Draco took a deep breath. The round lock clicked and then spun on its centre as the lid of Sarcophagus started levitating towards the ceiling as if suspended on invisible strings, unveiling the cherry wood casket inside. Engraved with yet another Old malfoy crest and a round lock. With another sentence carved into the wood.

"Omnes portabitur pro amore"… "All shall be borne for love." Draco read laying his finger on the Blood seal lock.

It seemed oddly fitting of his situation, this sentence. It carried a gravity Draco knew too well of. The casket clicked open as the lid gently rose and then fell to the side and inside lay not a corpse but a leather bound journal, with yet another blood seal. Eyes wide, Draco reached for it with slight shaking hands. It seemed as if he was reaching for his death and doom. He knew in his gut that he would have to give something only as monumental as, life, death or soul for what lay in the pages of this journal, for what he seek to achieve. Draco took out the journal from the casket and hid it into a hidden pocket which he had fashioned himself into his Death-eater robes. The journal hummed with magic. Lowering the lid of the casket softly and cleaning the blood seal of his blood with a quick 'scourgify' Draco stepped back as the lid of the sarcophagus started to lower itself. Feeling accomplishment and dread at the same time, Draco quietly made his way out of the Tomb.

Later in his own room as the day was dawning on the horizon, in his own time, Draco slipped the Journal out of his robe, and opened it in the deep sanctuary of his blankets and bed. Opening the Last blood seal that unraveled not a secret, but an unchangeable destiny. By the time Draco closed and locked the blood seal again a few hours later, Draco's anxious silver eyes had turned to a dead stone grey with determination and a plan that would cost him not much, only his soul. But as Belenos had said. All shall be borne for love. Draco knew he would never hesitate and in the end, he didn't.

"The Pure-blooded families are most integrated than they have ever been…"

'Always been a Coward. Defended you COWARD!'

"Hermione Granger…. responsible … Wizarding….etiquettes classes at Hogwarts….. Muggle borns and Half-bloods ….. raised in the Muggle world."

'Can't be bribed…. Still hate you…. Watching…Closely…'

"…..name …..acquitted …. charges in the death-eater….., good form …..resume your seat on Hogwarts … Governors."

'Coward! Ran away from the war... Always a coward! Hate cowards!'

"…..Minister of magic….. Designated seat on the Wizengamot…. denied …..father… charged on a few counts."

'Regret the day…decided to come back'

"Draco…"

'Malfoy!'

"Lord…"

'Remember this!'

"Draco?"

'Real or no MALFOY… still hate you Malfoy... Don't trust you Malfoy… Good Day MALFOY!'

"LORD MALFOY?"

A loud voice and a sound of glass shattering brought me out of my whirlpool of misery.

"Yes Mr. Montague?" I say looking at the man sitting just two chairs away from my chair at the head of house position. His eyes widened and a little frightened. I quickly flick my eyes towards the table to see where the sound of breaking glass came from. Only to find the white pristine Silk table cover reddening under my right hand which still holds some lose and some embedded pieces of glass which were once my Mother's finest crystal wine Goblet.

"Ah! I am sorry Mr. Montague" I say getting up from the table and notice Monk standing a few steps away from the table. From his wide eyes and terrified expression, I know that he has already tried to fix the broken Crystal Goblet, but he does not know that it will never be repaired, no matter how many times he tries. I curse myself at losing control like that. I know what must be done. I simply wave my hand at the table and my hand, and just like that banish all glass and spilt blood. I finally start to feel a sting in my injured hand which is now free of all embedded glass. I look up to see Montague's blue eyes widened at my effortless but powerful magic. I smile inwardly. I have only just used my normal base magic, something that any skilled wizard would be able to do, even wandlessly like me.

But I do not need a wand anymore for casting my magic. If anything, it is a hindrance. Not to say that I can't use a wand. I can, but it's like having to walk on crutches when you have fully-functional legs of a Marathon runner. But, this will not do at all. The less this world suspects me, the better. I need to be careful with these things. Mr. Montague's eyes are looking up at me questioningly. He opens his mouth for a second as if to ask me about it and then closes. He seems a bit unsettled.

Oh, I remember now. I was labeled as an extremely weak wizard after my failure to kill Dumbledore. It was a constant source of amusement for the Death-eaters at the manor. I did nothing to refute the claim. In fact, I encouraged it. Failing to cast simplest spells. Were they less foolish than they were, they would have seen through the act. I did after all accomplish the impossible. I fixed a very mysterious magical object, the magic of which was not fully understood. So to sit here and cast wandless magic so effortlessly was bound to surprise Mr. Montague after the information of me being a weakling was so common knowledge.

Oh, he doesn't know half of what I have running in my nerves. The black sheer liquid power in quest of which wizards have melted years and years into ashes and nothingness. I hold it in my veins. It is mine to command at the flick of an eye-lid. No, I have a façade to keep, and I will have to keep control the way I have spend Six years to learn. Order in turmoil. Smoothness in tumult. With a wave of my hand I cast a stasis on the man staring at me. Another magic that is next to impossible to cast on a conscious and aware being.

I look deep into Montague's eyes and shuffle deep into his mind. It takes me split seconds to find the particular memory I am looking for since it was still floating on the surface but not before I realize that this Anthony Montague, sitting in front of me was the first Ravenclaw in his family in eight generations of Slytherins. Strange yet intriguing. But it is to my advantage. I put it aside to observe some other time. Back to purpose of this invasion in privacy. I dip into the memory of what happened just minutes ago.

I see me looking blankly while Montague is speaking,

He is telling me about how the Purebloods have never been more integrated in the society.

About how Hermione Granger is responsible for starting a class in Hogwarts regarding Wizarding Traditions and Etiquette compulsory for all muggleborns and Half-bloods raised in the Muggle world, just as Muggle studies is compulsory for all Purebloods and Half blood, raised in wizarding world.

About how I should resume my seat on the Hogwarts board of governors, and how I should claim my seat on the Wizengamot as Lord Malfoy.

I feel his worry, genuine worry as he explains things to a blank me. He feels I am not taking the death of my mother well even if he is impressed by my composure at the wake earlier in the day. He is afraid that I am about to have a mental breakdown. I won't call it a mental breakdown, mental tantrum yes, but one look at my face from Montague's perspective tells me why he would think I am about to meltdown. No Slytherin would ever worry this way.

He relates my situation to his Son Nigel Montague's, who was a year above me in Hogwarts and had a mental breakdown after his male-lover died from the Dark mark backlash a few years ago. Who still goes to 's once a week for a Therapy session and is now courting Daphne Greengrass. It gets more and more interesting, Or perhaps I have been isolated from people too long. But the kind of tolerance Mr. Montague shows for his son's situation and sexuality is admirable. Which makes me feel a little if not much, guilty about what I am about to do. I am surprised I feel that much in the first place, after all I have been through, and done.

I blink my eyes once and clear the memory of what happened with the wine glass and my banishing of the mishap, but I keep the worry and the relation of my situation to his son's. I need him to be sympathetic and supportive of me and since I know now that he is not a Slytherin. I know his support would lead to trust, and Trust would lead to deep-rooted loyalty, and I know what loyalty is capable of doing, even if the only one I am loyal to doesn't know about it.

I sit back down and gesture Monk to bring me another goblet, which he does immediately, before I break my solicitor out of the stasis I put him under as I tempered his memory. I have always been proud of my mind magic. I notice for the first time that we were half way through dessert, which if memory serves me correct is called an Almond soufflé. I smile sadly at my dessert, trying to remember the last time I had dessert; I had always had such an extreme sweet-tooth as a child. Now there is no pleasure in sweetness. Not for cowards. I shake my head at the thought, strictly forbidding my mind to go there. I speak as if the meal was un-interrupted.

"I will consider the position at the Hogwarts board of Governors seriously, but I am not so sure about the Wizengamot. I need to reconcile with the Ministry first, like we will be doing tomorrow."

He looks at me blankly for a moment before he blinks his eyes once, I can literally see everything coming to place in his mind on his face.

"Yes of course Lord Malfoy…" he pauses for a moment. " You do realize that they will be interrogating you under Veritaserum tomorrow?"

I smile at him coldly with as much determination that a young Lord would show on his face, all strung out with, youth, confusion, frustration and loss.

"I am the son of Lucius Malfoy, and the way I observed earlier today, nothing at the ministry has changed much. I do intend to offer galleons after I am fully informed of the position of the Vaults, but I would still like to make an impression of utmost cooperation by consenting to Veritaserum fully, no strings attached. I do not have anything to hide after all."

"Of course, I never meant to imply as such." He inclines his head demurely.

"Of course… Now if you would excuse me, I have had a very long and trying day, I must retire now. I need to review the manor vaults tomorrow morning before I meet the Goblins at Gringotts." I say dismissively. He nods solemnly. He understands the power dynamic. I am glad that he is so perceptive.

"Yes Lord Malfoy, the sooner the financial information is compiled, the better. If you want, I can send a finance arguer from my office tomorrow to assist you with all matters of Gringotts?"

"That would be perfect Mr. Montague and please call me Draco."

After a smile and hand shake I remove myself from the dining hall swiftly and stride towards the room. There are things I need to do.

"Monk.." with a pop, the house-elf appears at my side as I strip down my robes a few minutes later.

"Master?" he says with a squeak.

"Has Mr. Montague left?"

"Yes Master."

"I want you to remove all mirrors from the manor and place them all in the dungeon practice room, now."

"also the one melded into the roof of the west-wing ballroom master?" I had forgotten about that monstrosity.

"No, leave that one, any mirror that is detachable from its place must be removed and placed in the practice room. Go." I dismissed the elf.

I turn around towards the ornate dresser to see it's oval shaped mirror already gone.

I think I need to reacquaint myself again with the tact of how to order house-elves. Since I have only them to keep me company and serve me here. Being where I have been, I feel for the first time, how acutely wasteful living in this manor could be. The past eight years have removed all embellishments I may have had on me. Now all that remains is my skin, which hides underneath it, secrets and tragedies and sins one would never want to uncover.

As I dress in black silk pajama bottoms that belonged to the Seventeen year old me, I cannot help but feel nostalgic. So, naïve, so pure I was, with nothing but a yearning deep down, a clear image of what needed to be done and a silly amount of ever-fluctuating self confidence.

It was all so clear, so defined until the moment I broke through Severus' mind that fateful evening at spinner's end, and I found out what I actually was destined to be. Master of death, A necromancer.

A pop pulls me out of my thoughts. My house-elf informs me that the task I set him is done and now all the mirrors present in the Manor have been taken to the Practice room.

Practice room, which was christened as such by my insane aunt Bellatrix, It is nothing but open space in the bowels of the manor, running under the most of Eastern wing. It was where she practiced her torture, and killing skills on mud-bloods and blood traitors and mind fucking skills on me. In my knowledge it is the place that still holds most malice, death and darkness. So it's the perfect setting for what I need to do.

"Come along Monk." I say as I step out of the room, bare feet, clad only in my Pajama bottoms. The coolness of the air caresses my skin lovingly. Yes, it is what is familiar; it is what I remember, and what keeps me in place. The hard and cold marble floor of the manor is pleasant to my equally cold feet. I hear rather than see a few portraits gasping as I walk down the corridors, making my way to the staircase that leads down to the dungeons. It is not every night you see a young Lord Malfoy bare-chested, hair lose and bare feet walk through these corridors that had always held civil class, and steely pretentiousness. I am sure I am being labeled as nothing less than a heathen.

I let my magic lose in just my hands. A black flame that plays leisurely around my stark pale fingers, a flame made of tar and the most dangerous and scaring blackness a human mind could ever fathom. I hear Monk behind me whimper. He is an elf, and his people once belonged to another dimension. So he can recognize inter-dimensional magic when he sees it, I wonder if he can figure out how these hands that play and stroke this black fire like a pet must have once dripped blood, wild, warm, sticky blood. Blood from a heartless kill. A heartless soul-ripping kill. I wonder if he can recognize the hell this magic comes from.

And that was just the first and very basic step into becoming what I am now.

I reach the mahogany double-doors behind which I know lies the staircase descending into the dungeons. The door is netted in wards and spells. I remember how notoriously difficult it was to break into the dungeons. A flick of my wrist and doors bang with enough force that the whole manor feels the rattle. I reach out with my mind to the wards outside the Manor ground. Fortifying them even further before I turn towards my cowering house-elf.

"Once I go down, you will seal all exits and entrances to the basement. Do not enter, and I cannot stress it more, until I specifically call for you. Is that understood?"

"Yes Master."

I turn away from the shaking elf who is still staring wide-eyed at the magic that is still playing around my hands. Descending down the sharp and steep stone steps I can smell the moist and musty resentment pouring from the walls. Who knows how many innocents had found themselves descending down these stairs never to come back up alive. A familiar feeling of foreboding fills me, like it did whenever I descended down to the depths of manor seven years ago, I am surprised by it. I did not know I still had it in me, apparently I do.

The amount of mirrors that have been gathered is huge. I gape at the pile. Oval, circular, rectangular, huge, big, small, with handles, with frames, with stands. I am reflected in almost all of them. I roll my eyes at the vanity that is so characteristic of us Malfoys. I remember standing and perfecting and then admiring myself needlessly. I was such a vain little boy.

The magic is now purring around my fingers, like a feline. I am not fooled by her for a second.

Not anymore.

She, this magic, or demon, is the product of what I had to do the evening of the final battle. Deep in the dark forest. A dark mistress she was in the beginning. I do not know any other way of describing her for that is what she was, all pain and control and desire and hurt, in the beginning I was only a host, a slave to the darkness that replaced the piece I had to tear from my soul. I could not face the world that knew me and fight the demon that was living inside me. So I had to go away. Run, as far and fast as I could.

And just today Potter called me a 'coward'. I have been a coward, but not in the way he thinks.

You see, cowards are the most stubborn people you will ever come across. Also the most selfish ones. They hang on to their idea of comfort and ease, the hardest. So hard they hold on to it that they do everything honorable or dishonorable to hold on to it. They desert; abandon, and they don't even listen to their own conscience. That's how stubborn and selfish cowards are.

I am a coward enough to,

Spy on the one I had taken mark of and owed fealty to.

Steal from my own home.

Manipulate those who desired me.

Abandon those who cared for me.

Abuse the gift that nature had given me.

Defile the thing most sacred to everything good in the world.

Decimate any chance for redemption.

Trade with the devil.

Double-cross those who never harmed me.

Lure under false pretenses.

Murder in cold blood.

All for what was my idea of comfort and ease.

Idea that was "An alive Harry Potter."

Because I never was and never would be brave enough to hear the news of Harry Potter's death.

So yes I am a coward.

And I am selfish enough to come back and hear it from the mouth of the one I did it all for, one more time, after which I will still come back for more and more and more. Did I not say, we cowards are the most stubborn and selfish people you would come across.

She, my magic knows I have come down to appease her. She has been good today and deserves the reward. I flick a wrist, increasing the area for the magic to play upon. She whimpers gratefully. As if telling me how merciful and wonderful a master I am. But I know her, She is treacherous, and manipulative, and volatile.

I randomly select a tall full-view rectangular mirror, more than seven feet tall and four feet wide. It stands on an elaborately carved wooden stand. I levitate it to the center of the practice room. Turning back from it and towards the rest of the Mirrors I command my magic in a low voice as I swish my hand through the air. Also picturing in my mind the Mirror on the roof of the West-wing Ballroom.

"Caecus speculis."

(blind the mirrors)

Immediately all mirrors turn blank as if they are nothing but blank spaces melded in frames. Looking keenly and making sure that none is left reflecting, I turn back towards the one mirror that stands reflecting. I look at my image staring back at me. The dim light from the sconces in the room playing eerie patters on my bare-chest. I have not visited the world behind the mirror for a long time, but now that I my circumstances have changed so drastically, in favor of the prophecy I am to fulfill, I wish to make peace with all my magics. This one being the first to start making the change. I smile looking at myself. There was a Draco Malfoy, who once thought he was a Necromancer. The one who had borne it all for love. But this is not that Malfoy

Necromancer. What a joke!

No, this Draco Malfoy is so much more and now here to become what he was always meant to be, which is even more than most anyone could be. But the price remains the same.

I place my commanding hand on the surface of the mirror.

"Open!" I command it, unleashing all of my magic.

The surface vibrates under my hand for a split second, it's fix nature of solidity shivering underneath my will for a blink before it gives way and the ripples go across its surface as it becomes air, a door way a window to another dimension. Showing the landscape of the place I want to go to if only I would step through.

I do.

I step into the underworld. It is as it always is in my mind. A dark midnight blue sky with mirror images of the constellations, a moon waxing half way through, as it is waning in the living world. The dark cool air surrounds me. The ash barren land rustles and changes patterns continously. Ash dunes, and remains of the ages bygone breath and change landscape every passing minute. It's desolate and lonely, and as big as the universe itself. You see for all creatures that are born, some die in world of the living, but in the world of the dead, all co-exist at the same time. The cool blue light of the moon shivers.

My magic sighs.

"Ecfundo!"(let go)

I command it, and she pours out of my hands in form of a black smoke, spilling like a liquid the next moment in the sand color of ashes underneath my feet. It is a process that never fails to interest me. She knows it, so she shows off. Slowly pouring out of my fingers the pool of liquid black growing in size, before she emerges out of it slowly and leisurely in the form I enjoy the most. A female panther. I named her Tenebra in this form. She rubs against my legs like any pet cat would. Her huge ember eyes glinting up at me in a pleadingly. I absently run my fingers through the fur at her neck. It is the most I will do and she knows it. There was a time I would pet her for hours just to please her. A change of direction in the air tells me that I have company. I turn around slightly, to look at the two approaching figures far down the slope of this sand hill the color of ashes.

"Chezaree…Chezarak…" I nod curtly at the two keepers of the underworld who appear in front of me in the form of an old woman and man. Their haggard clothes all dusty and torn. Wooden branches in hand for the staffs. I raise a brow at the obvious get up.

"Were I human, I would have suggested that my eyes were lying to me, and that you are nothing but a mere illusion Domnus…" says the old woman her eyes twinkling with mischief as always.

"I am in no mood for your flattery or mischief Chezaree... I came only to let Tenebra free for a while. I need to pass some tests in my own world, for which she would only be a distraction." I say dismissively.

"But of course Domnus! We would do anything that is your wish, Tenebra will be well cared for. Should we imagine that these tests are related to the prophecy?"asks Chezarak, the always curious, always groveling.

"That is only my business isn't it, you must remember your place keeper." I snap at him. It is what is expected of me now. I am an uncaring, unrelenting and unforgiving master. Which is the only kind of master that can harness this chaos called underworld and its keepers. I learnt that lesson the hard way once upon a time.

"Apologies Master Draco." The man bows unnaturally low. I snort at the display before I turn back with the purpose of leaving. The Rectangular opening appears in the thin air, behind it I can see the flickering lights of the dim practice room. Tenebra whines somewhere behind me as I step into the opening and out into the miserable room. Now, I am all ready to face the world with all its tests and intrusions.

My assessment the night past was pretty much accurate. It was still the same ministry as it was before the second rising of Voldemort. Stale bureaucracy, putrid organizational structure, discriminating laws and even more biased law keepers. I wondered why people like the righteous Saint Potter and his know-it-all-save-it-all side kick Hermione Granger or Weasley, who were under employment of the ministry did nothing to change things? Too wrapped in telling off and keeping an eye on old school enemies to do some real work?

I contemplated future participation in politics. Even if after seven years of staying out of touch from the Ministry of Magic, I could clearly see the ways to manipulate and take advantage in the half hour I have spent sitting here outside the Minister's office perhaps I wondered if I was just naturally that good with politics or if instead ministry itself was just such an open playground for manipulators.

Kingsley Shacklebolt as it turned out was not an easily lead man as he would let you believe at first go.

"Mr. Malfoy, I hope you understand the necessity of this… this is procedure. I know you were exonerated of all charges the credit to which goes to Auror Potter, but still since you have returned, a lot of variables come into play. Not to include the biggest question of them all. How you survived the Dark Mark when not even the most powerful death eaters could not?"

"Perhaps, that was it, because I am not much powerful Minister Shacklebolt but that's besides the point, I am here to reassure and legitimize my exoneration by saint Potter, and you are here to do your job. All causes as noble as they can get."

"Ah, the old school rivalry persists I see." He looks extremely amused. My slip was deliberate. I am no fool, I know how wary Kingsley must be of Harry Potter and his influence on the wizarding world. If I play my cards right I would have a place tailor made for me in no time.

"Excuse me?" I fake confusion.

"You just called him 'Saint Potter'…" the minister turns to look at his assistant smiling covertly and signaling him in a way I can't decipher.

"I did, didn't I?" I say grimacing a little. "Well, it can't be helped, no matter how righteous he gets and how civilized I get, we have never liked each other, and he assured me personally at my mother's funeral that it was not going to change. I would like to say that I would have liked to turn a new leaf but it is redundant. As far as rivalry goes, I don't consider it that anymore, because I am not a school boy anymore, where as I am sure same can't be said about Auror Potter." They say cheekiness on the right face can work wonders.

They are right. I still go through the Veritaserum interrogation, but I see a curious glint in the Minister's eyes. That is all that matters to me at this point. I need to get out of this interrogation on the right foot. Especially when I will be speaking nothing but lies mostly making them sound like the vehement truth. Veritaserum stopped working on me after I first contacted the underworld at the age of seventeen.

You see, a necromancer's in-built magic makes it impossible for any spell, hex, enchantment, potion or illusion to control the mind and senses, because that is what spirits and demons of the dead world affect first of all, through the mind. So spells like Crucio, imperio and potions like Veritaserum do not penetrate my mind anymore hence do not affect me. I was born invulnerable; I just had not known it.

"Are you Draco Abraxus Malfoy" We have moved to an adjoined room in Minister's office quarters. A quill high in the air has started to scribble away at a piece of parchment.

"Yes I am Draco ORION Abraxus Malfoy." I answer looking deep into the blue eyes of Ronald Weasley.

"Have you Draco Orion Abraxus Malfoy willingly agreed to this questioning under Veritaserum to reassure your exoneration?"

"I have." I say easily.

"If you have any requests or queries regarding this interrogation please state them now." He pauses looking at me expectantly.

The request I am about to make will have enough loopholes for allowing Weasley to tell this story back to as many red-heads, bushy heads and a certain raven head as he likes. Which is the point of this whole charade. Sympathy gaining between Potter's own friends. Weasley is confident and proud enough to trust explicitly that I am telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth under the Veritaserum, he administered and to doubt my statement at this point would be to doubt his ability as an auror and to doubt his whole department. So, by this time in a next few days he would be defending me in front of Potter, convincing his friends and family of my poor fate. On the other hand Potter is paranoid enough to think I can be lying under Veritaserum. Which I am. But it is impossible for most people to do and Potter has no reason to believe I am not one of those Most people, but he will nonetheless investigate which will obviously make him seek me out more and corner me more, and that will satisfy me a lot. A very much lot! As I have all intentions on invading his territory whenever possible. Starting with my desolate and lonely aunt and her little grandson of course. He wants to keep an eye on me and his wish is my command. I will make it so that he would wish to take his eye off me and won't be able to.

"Just a request. Whatever information I reveal here, shall not be made public knowledge but should only be revealed in relation to my exoneration, restoration of respect, or as evidence to my innocence now and in future."

"Agreed." Says minister's deep voice. I eye the quill that is writing the words of my request and the answer of the minister, furiously on the parchment in red ink.

"He is all yours minister." Weasley says respectfully as he takes a chair by the side of the Minister. I was told earlier in the day that Potter is on leave for a week or two. I try to decipher the look on Weasley's face, he looks expectant and interested though he sneers a little when he sees that I am looking at him. Ah yes. There is the expression I was looking for. The world doesn't turn right when the Malfoys and the Weasleys are being amiable to each other.

"Draco Malfoy, when and how were recruited as a death eater by Tom Riddle?" Minister's deep voice is all commanding and indifferent. Right now I am a suspect and he is my interrogator.

"I was recruited as a death eater by force during the summer between my fifth and sixth year at Hogwarts, in July of 1996." I state the first truth.

"Force? Mr. Malfoy, please elaborate on how you were forced to take the Dark Mark."

"Due to my Father's failure at the mission that Voldemort had assigned him regarding the prophecies in the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort forced my parents to forfeit me in his service so that I could carry an important task for him at Hogwarts the failure at accomplishing which would result in death of my Mother." I remember those dreadful days.

"What was this important task Mr. Malfoy?"

"Kill Albus Dumbledore."

"And did you succeed in your Task?"

"I did not."

"What caused your failure Mr. Malfoy? Was it intervention of Severus Snape?"

"No, I had already lowered my wand, I could not do it, I could not take a life like that, I knew my mother's life hung in balance, but I could still not do it. Severus Snape only intervened when it was clear that I would not be able to accomplish the job, since he had taken an unbreakable vow to do so."

"But still the Dark lord killed neither you nor your mother after your failure… What happened after Draco?"

"The Dark Lord punished me for days. But he needed an active Lord Malfoy or a legitimate heir to the estate to supply him with enough money to sponsor his war. Not only that, but Severus Snape who was in a very exalted position at that time was able to ask my life to be spared as a reward. I was his Godson after all. Moreover, since my father was in Azkaban and I was still a minor, I could only withdraw funds with help of my mother acting as regent. So he needed the both of us to live, whilst he made our home his Head quarters as the blood wards would only hold up in presence of the both the regent and heir of the estate. There was no escape for us, so I had to try and redeem my position to get some relief."

But that is not what I did.

"So you participated in Death eater raids?"

"Yes, some of them, mostly I was assigned security Patrols or message delivering because I was considered a weakling and had not matured yet."

Which was a lie of course. I just made it look that way, saved me a lot of trouble.

"What did you do in raids you did participate in?"

"I usually rounded up people who needed to be rounded up or served as a look out. I was not capable of casting two of the three unforgivables because of which I was not much useful with the torturing and killing part."

I could kill and torture just fine, I just refused to do it. My weakling image worked with that and when the time came I did strike.

"All right, so let us rush forward and come to the evening of the final Battle. We do know what happened in the room of requirement and how Harry Potter saved your life, what we need to know is what happened after that."

"I was scared and I did not want to fight any more. I had come too close to death and did not want to face it anymore. I knew my father won't leave Voldemort's side but I knew my mother would come with me if we could escape. I made me way out of the castle and cut into the forbidden forest from the Pumpkin patch behind Hagrid's hut. I was almost outside the wards when the second wave of attack happened and the wards started to fade away in patches. I could not have gone a hundred feet into the forest when I was mauled by Fenrir Greyback, who treated me with the torture curse before he stunned me."

I was as far from scared as I had ever been. I had just held Potter in my arms a few minutes ago, alive, had just realized how precious the warmth of that body and the thud of that fierce heartbeat was. I was filled with determination and fierce bravery. The line was drawn so clear for me. I had made all the preparations deep in the forest two nights before, and now I only needed to find where my prey was and entice him to step into my trap. I had walked out of the castle, undetected, making my mother's wand lead me to Fenrir Greyback, someone I felt nothing but pure unadulterated malice for, which was necessary for what I intended to do. I found my way out of the wards with ease as they were weakening under the assault from Voldemort, and I knew that my prey would come to me and he did. It was as if he had been looking for me all along. He had taken a good bite out of me before I was able to stun him, still nothing was going to stop me. Not when I was so close. I had a few hours at most.

"Fenrir Greyback? Why would Fenrir Greyback attack you? Did you have some kind of enmity with him?" the Minister asked commandingly. I shook my head as if in despair. There are things about the events which followed this point in my story which sometimes when I am too lost and confused I do despair about, but then I am grounded again when I think back to the reasons I had to do it for.

"Only the kind of enmity a wolf has with his prey, Fenrir Greyback had never made a secret of how he wanted to make me a pet and prey of his. He desired my flesh I understand. Something to do with Were-wolf instinct. He tried to barter me with Voldemort for services rendered and fealty of Three were-wolf packs under his dominion, which Severus Snape prevented. He tried to attack me once before but I escaped luckily. This time I was not so lucky."

It was true, Fenrir had tried to rape me twice during the time the Manor had been Death Eater's head quarter. Both times he failed, but he had vowed and threatened revenge enough times to have legitimate witnesses, which I am sure would have been explored enough once I had gone missing. Thus started my hatred of Fenrir Greyback. He had tried to overpower and defile me one too many times and I hate none like I hated Fenrir Greyback.

"What happened next?" asks the minister a little too eager now.

"When I was woken, I was laying naked on what seemed a wooden Pyre tied with invisible rope, in the middle of some kind of ritual, it was very late in the evening or perhaps it was just that we were so deep in the forest that I could not tell what time it was. He had cut me in several places and he kept circling the pyre and chanting in grunts, I do not remember much through the pain, only that suddenly there was an explosion just as he had lit the pyre underneath me and he was suddenly hit with an invisible force through which I had somehow come free from my invisible bind I had hardly gotten up through pain and heat to save myself from burning when I felt a burning sensation in my left arm and I went unconscious again. My only thought being escape."

I had dragged Fenrir deep into the forest before I apparated him even deeper where the ritual was to take place.

You see, I had found in the journal of Belenos Malfoy the ritual of Punar. An ancient Semitic ritual that could only be invoked by a real necromancer, which could assure a chance of return from death of a single soul. It required a high price though. A piece from the soul of the caster, as that would only balance the scales between the living world and a dead world. I was driven to the point of no return. With Potter's death looming over my head, I had no choice and I had the inspiration right in front of me. fates were on my side. It would have taken me months if not years to find a way to split away a piece of my soul to give to the keeper of underworld to give Potter a pass back to life, but I had Voldemort living in my house and the knowledge of his Horcruxes and how they were made embedded in my brain. It took me minutes to make a connection. It needed to be done.

So after months of preparation, I had my Ritual prepared deep in the forest in a place which I had only sensed because of my training with my new abilities regarding necromancy, that particular spot had once been a centaur Burial ground but was now abandoned. Burial grounds of magical beings are usually made in places where the wall between the two worlds is thin. My spells were cast, my request perfected in words so they could not be tricked in any way for I had been made aware through research that death was treacherous in its ways and so were the keepers. With all the preparation done, I knew the time was running short. I needed to murder someone in cold blood, which would tear a piece of my soul and then open the portal and bargain with the keepers of the underworld.

Once Greyback was in place, I had enervated him. His animalistic fury had only been fuel to my hatred, which was necessary. I had completed the enchantment that would allow me to preserve the piece of soul that would tear apart when I murdered the animal in cold blood. I removed my clothes until I was clad in only my uniform trousers. Climbing atop to straddle him I settled carefully on his waist in order to look into his eyes as I took his life. His warm body underneath mine threatened me to feel pity for a split second as it reminded me of the warmth of Potter's body, which reminded me of Potter's life that was in irrevocable danger lest I succeed. That flash of thought was enough for me to remember my purpose. I looked down into the eyes of my tormentor, who would have liked nothing but to strip me off my dignity and fuck me till I bled to death, he would have done so too, he had done that to little Adrian Flint, a boy of fourteen. The image of the boy's mangled body was carved in my mind until the poison of the memory of that image filled the blood in my veins and I brought down the Knife I held just in the center of his hairy chest with as much force as I could. The scream was pure agony as hot blood gushed out everywhere. I imagined how little Adrian must have screamed and I could not help but retrieve the knife and brought it down again just in the dip of throat between spray of gushing blood that soaked my trousers. The satisfaction was immediate as the gurgling sound rose from his throat. I twisted the knife clockwise as a fountain of blood escaped the wound and then anticlockwise. I felt so much power as the helplessness of that hateful creature that has taken the innocence of who knows how many.

And then it happened. I had not expected to see it happen literally, but I had underestimated the development of my own power. I saw a dark grey smoke escape the nostrils of the monster as he exhaled his last breath his reddish golden eyes went a dead muddy brown and the Were-wolf magic receded with his death, I saw it all fascinated as the cloud of grey smoke drifted towards me slowly before I realized that this was Greyback's soul. Its murky color showed the depth of the decay and then I felt as if something cold was lancing through my chest, looking down I saw my chest glow red for a second as my breath hitched as something squeezed my lungs. I couldn't help but retch a deep breath which when escaped my mouth was accompanied by a small pearl of silver light. I felt like something was tearing me apart. Like I was torn apart all of sudden, as if it was not Greyback that was mangled underneath me, but myself. I needed to absorb this little bead of soul back, it was mine, I needed it, it was what carried the taste in food and comfort in rest and happiness and life. And it was being taken. How would I live without rest? How would I live without taste? And happiness? And life? No! I would take it back!

'But, is it worth more than Potter's life?' Asked a voice within me. If Potter was gone never to return what would I do then? What would become of me then. A soul once torn apart could never be whole again Belenos had written in his journal. I had a purpose still, which had nothing to do with comfort and taste, I could survive without those, but how would I live without my purpose. Potter was the purpose, he had always been. Just like that my state of indecision had receded. Now, I only needed to give the piece to the keepers of the underworld, in return of which they would help Potter find his way back from the threshold of underworld to come alive again untouched and kill Voldemort once and for all. In the end I had succeeded. With a heavy price, but still, succeeded, and rest is as they say, history. Which was still in writing. No matter how falsely.

"So you Apparated?" asks the Minister. Impatient now.

"I do not know, I did not have my wand then, I was already using my mother's then and that had not been on me obviously when I had come back to myself lying naked atop that pyre. I just remember waking up in a strange place which turned out to be a Muggle Hospital in Berlin."

I had ended up in Berlin, because as I was in the process of Apparating, I was hit with a magical backlash through the Dark mark which came from what I am presuming was Voldemort's death. I was splinched badly and found in front of a muggle grocery store. Bleeding profusely and unconscious. I would have died if it was not so close to a muggle hospital.

"Why did you not come back? You must have heard about the end of Voldemort?"

No I did not hear it for next four months as I lay in a coma in a Muggle Hospital who could find nothing wrong with me apart from Blood loss and body trauma and when I did come to myself, it took me almost a year and a half to recover my magic. I was glad that the Muggle welfare system of Germany was efficient and adjusting enough that I had no problems with food or shelter.

"Simply because I did not know I should. You see, I woke up with not an inkling regarding who I was or where I was and who awaited me. It was not until a year later of living in Muggle Berlin that I found out that I was a wizard, that too because while I was delivering newspapers one morning I had levitated one accidentally when it was about to land in a water puddle. That first snap of magic was what started to o make me remember things, but it was not until five more years that I actually figured out who I was really, when an old business associate of my Father's mentioned how I resembled the late Lord Malfoy of Wiltshire. It took me another year remembering, because of which I was in 'Shida Miryo' in the first place, the mind healers there are the best in the world and because I had no money, I had to offer services in payment. I was just released of it a month ago and by the time I came back I found out my mother had died just Six days ago."

"That is tragic indeed Mr. Malfoy. I really am sincerely sorry for your loss and grief, but I am hoping you would forgive my insensitivity at this point, as I have to assure all and myself. You will have to answer the next questions…" The minister paused for a minute.

"Do you Draco Malfoy, intend to use Dark Magic now or in future in any shape and form?"

"I do not Minister Shacklebolt."

"Do you Draco Malfoy renounce all of the doctrines that Tom riddle and his associates tried to establish seven years ago?"

"Yes I renounce all and every doctrine that Voldemort and his associates tried to establish."

"Do you swear to not pursue any kind or form of magic that the ministry of magic has deemed illegal and punishable?"

"I swear that I will not pursue any kind or form of magic or alchemical concoction that the ministry of magic had deemed illegal." I cannot help but add things I know they have missed out. I want them to feel that even if they did leave loopholes I saw them and covered them as a good old citizen that I was. Of course, doing that would lead them away from the real loophole that I am really going to use even if I am not bound at all to any oath or promise they make me take which is the fact that Ministry does not know anything about the Magic I intend to pursue relentlessly to deem it illegal or punishable.

Beware of the treachery of a Slytherin!

An hour later after discussing, 'other business' before which Weasley had left, now that the Minister seems confident of my innocence and exoneration and has assured me that my legal status as an alive and clean Lord Draco Malfoy will be restored within a week I am about to take my leave when the Minister waves a piece of paper at me.

"What is this all about Mr. Malfoy? An application form to patent an invention with the Department of Mysteries?"

"Yes Minister, I have become sort of an immature inventor in last two to three years since I had no idea who I was and all that. This was more of a side project and now that it's complete I think it can do a lot of good for the wizarding world."

"Pray tell Mr. Malfoy, what is this Mysterious Invention that will be so good for the wizarding world?"

I had been hoping for that. I fished into the inner pocket of my dark peacock blue robes which once belonged to my father and pulled out an intricately carved silver hand mirror size of my palm. I slowly slid it in front of the minister.

"What is this?" asks the minister curiously eyeing the hand mirror but avoiding from touching it.

"This is what I fondly have named a 'memomirror'."

"A Memomirror?" repeats the minister.

"yes, a memomirror, as you can tell, it made through the wards of the ministry undetected, which is because the magic involved is absolutely without a question benign."

"I see, and what does this memomirror do?" he asks taking out his wand and casting a simple revealing spell.

"What else? It memorizes everything that is reflected in it and it can all be viewed again at any time from any point, you just have to know the incantation to activate, deactivate and retrieve memory. I am still working on it though. Since its only yet able to respond and be commanded by a single person and the sound of the memories sometimes in retrieval can be lost if the memory exceeds more than twelve hours." I say carelessly looking down at my invention knowing full well that the minister is gaping at my face like an idiot. I decide, he is an idiot.

"By the grace of Merlin boy! Do you even realize what you are saying? Do you even realize that if it does what you say it does this could bring about a revolution in law enforcement and security?"

"Yes I do know that Minister. Which is why I have brought it to the Ministry's attention. You can benefit a lot from this in right hands and places, but in the wrong hands and place it can do a lot of damage. Which is why, I want to keep the incantation and the production method of this if it is approved and patented in my name to be a top secret only to be shared with an unspeakable of my choosing to test it for all purposes that would assure you that it's not a dark object by any means."

The minister just stares at me for a while. i am tempted to peek into his mind, that is before he tries to peek into mine. Ah! The arrogance of men in power knows no bounds. I blink at him, shielding myself only flimsily I know he wants to look in so I look away before he does himself some real damage which is possible.

"I do not know about now minister, but a few years ago, when law was beheld in this country, legilimency without the permission of the one being legilimized was a crime."

"I apologize Lord Malfoy." He nods at me curtly. "And I will sure be taking a keen interest in the testing and progress of this invention of yours, but as is procedure, this might take a week or two and if it's not much to ask perhaps I could keep this for a while?" I know what he means and wants.

"consider this small prototype a gift Minister, but I must tell you that regarding its size this would not memorize reflection more than six hours just touch the head of the carved dragon with your wand and say the password for Activation, which is 'scissors' and for deactivation is 'needle' and for memory retrieval use 'thimble'…." The minister looks amused again.

"Strange choice of passwords Mr. Malfoy." He says.

"I just wanted it to be something not very obvious and that was what popped into my mind." I answer looking abashed.

"They work. Thank you for this memomirror."

"you are welcome Minister. Now if you would excuse me, I have yet another Gringott's appointment before supper." I say getting up from my seat.

A few minutes later as I walk out of the Elevator and into the ministry's atrium with the god awful merlin statue, I find myself wondering where I would like to place one of my Memomirrors to utmost advantage. I would not be a Slytherin if I did not think about that. After a few obvious and vulgar options my brain finally provides me with a valid one.

I grin to myself. Deciding that by the end of the week, I must pay my Aunt Andromeda and little Teddy a visit.

For now, I must deal with the Goblins who are having a hard enough time welcoming back the owner of the biggest vault at Gringotts.

Question for All HPDM fans:

Memomirrors are my own creation btw... I am a pervy genius i think!:D

So...Can you guess what were Draco's Vulgar options for placement of Memomirrors exactly? And where would you like to place a 'Memomirror' if you had one? Do let me know!:D

Oh, btw, I read about Blood seal locks in a book regarding magic a few years back.
- 5
- 6
- 7
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Principle of Sympathy