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A Brother to Basilisks	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 85245 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Sixty-Eight—Artifacts of Understanding

            “You really kissed Malfoy in the middle of the library?”

            “Yes.”

            “You really—”

            “We heard about it from four people before Harry even got back to Gryffindor Tower,” Hermione interrupted, rolling her eyes. “Why would you think that he didn’t do it, Ron?”

            “I knew he liked Malfoy,” Ron said in a mournful sort of voice that Harry could feel Dash noting so he could torment Harry with it later. “I just didn’t know he liked him enough to kiss him in the middle of the library.”

            “Well, I do.” Harry paused in his flicking through his Transfiguration book. Their assignments had got more routine since McGonagall had become Headmistress, but no shorter. “Is that going to be a problem?”

            “No, like I said.” Ron didn’t get upset or offended. He just looked mournful. “I couldn’t believe it happened that way. I thought you’d kiss him after the Second Task. Or that you’d get up in the middle of the Great Hall someday and announce it. Or he’d announce it after he got irritated with the way girls stare at you sometimes. But not like this.”

            Harry blinked at him. He wanted to say that Ron had sure spent a lot of time thinking about this, but he couldn’t think of a way to say it without causing him offense.

            Say it anyway, Dash advised him around a long-fanged yawn. The way he reacts would be hilarious.

            But Harry still tried to pay more attention to his own instincts when dealing with his friends rather than his basilisk, so he said, “Well. Um. We didn’t do it that way. But Draco did expect a kiss after the Second Task, and he was a little angry he didn’t get it. That’s one reason I kissed him when I did.”

            Ron sat up and said, “Well. That makes sense, then.” And he turned back to his own Transfiguration homework with such a cheerful face that Harry looked to Hermione to make sense of things.

            Hermione shook her head. She was watching Ron with the kind of amused fondness that Harry thought made it strange she hadn’t kissed him in the library. Of course, Ron and Hermione also had different kinds of arguments than Harry and Draco had, so maybe she was waiting for some reason best known to herself.

            Okay, Harry thought firmly then. And I don’t need to spend as much time thinking about when Ron and Hermione are going to kiss as Ron spent thinking about when Draco and I were going to. He turned back to his essay, aware of Dash’s snicker in the back of his mind.

            I thought things wouldn’t be as amusing around here once you figured out that Draco wanted you to ask him to the Ball and kiss him and date him. I should have known. Humans are always amusing.

*

            “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Severus.”

            Severus inclined his head without moving. Narcissa had come to Hogwarts, and it wasn’t to visit Draco. That was more than enough to make him immediately wary of her.

            Narcissa, of course, didn’t act as though she was someone Severus should be wary of. She was delighted to take the seat by the fire. She was delighted to drink the tea he offered her. She was delighted to hear about Draco and how he had been doing in Potions, and delighted to hear about Harry doing better, and in general so pleasant and complaisant that by the time she opened the subject she had really come to talk about, Severus felt as though he was sitting on boar bristles.

            “Sirius is reluctant to have you there when he speaks to Harry,” Narcissa said, and sipped from the tea while looking thoughtfully at the fire. “He’s also reluctant to see this Lughborn Mind-Healer. They’re stern people by reputation. They might not understand Sirius’s sense of fun.”

            Severus didn’t blast out words in his rage that he would have cause to regret later, but it was a near thing. He only nodded as if he might even understand and agree, and then said, “Because his sense of fun includes things like researching rituals that might kill Harry, I’m afraid the indignity of having the wrong Mind-Healer is one he will have to get over.”

            “He wasn’t researching those rituals for fun. He was researching them because they might be the only way to sever the connection between Harry and the Dark Lord.”

            “And he didn’t tell me that. He sought no other way. He acted on the recommendation of Dumbledore, and if you still trust the man, Narcissa, then you’ve lost most of the brains you had when you were in Slytherin.”

            Narcissa blinked, perhaps a bit startled by the blunt speaking. It was one reason Severus had done it. He didn’t want her thinking that this was all a joke to him, and that he would place Black’s whims above Harry’s safety. He waited.

            Finally, Narcissa said, “You can understand why Sirius would be a bit reluctant to speak to Harry with your hostile presence next to him.”

            “I understand that he is out of control. That he makes no effort at all to understand the way Harry sees the world. The way he approached him after the Second Task and what he said shows that—”

            “What did he say after the Second Task?”

            Severus stared at her. Narcissa stared back. Severus tried to overcome the feeling that a winged horse had first thrown him and then trampled on him, and said slowly, “I thought he would have written to you about it. Or perhaps that Draco would have. Since Black considered himself so ill-used that he was not the precious thing the merfolk took from Harry, I thought it would be at the forefront of his mind and you would learn about it in a day.”

            “He said that?” Narcissa put down her cup and stared at the flames.

            “He had a conversation with you after the Task and didn’t mention it?” Severus permitted himself a sneer—only one, as he would otherwise become addicted. “What a strange fact.”

            “He didn’t say that,” Narcissa repeated slowly. “Although, now that I think of it, the conversation we had about his reluctance was the day before the Second Task. He hasn’t written or talked to me since.”

            She stood in an abrupt swirl of robes. “Your pardon, Severus. I might have spent time talking to you about facts that don’t apply anymore. I will have to see Sirius and ask him what he says now.”

            And she left. Severus watched the trail of brightness left behind in the air by her robes, and shook his head a little.

            If anything changes and Black becomes willing to accept the efforts of a Mind-Healer, that would be a good thing.

            But Severus still did not intend to compromise on the limitations he had laid out for Harry’s safety, no matter how strict they were. Black would speak with Harry only under Severus’s supervision, or he would not see him.

            That was also a fact.

*

            Lucius paused. He had come to Borgin and Burkes for other purposes, and had been looking at their collection of (mostly Dark) artifacts at all only because Borgin was with another client and Lucius was bored.

            This one, though…

            He knew he hadn’t seen it on his most recent visit. It was the sort of thing he would have remembered. Yet it had dust on it as though it had sat on the shelf for half an eternity.

            Lucius was not so much a fool as to touch it. He leaned near to it and cast a small charm that would create an image of it, made of light, for him to touch. Then he stepped back from the shelf and wandered down an aisle full of dust and shadows, carrying the illusion with him.

            He looked at it more closely only when he was deep in the shop and away from Borgin’s line of sight even if he turned a full circle.

            The illusion showed a gleaming black block that might be ebony or marble. The image couldn’t mimic the artifact’s height or weight, unfortunately, but by turning it, Lucius thought it was marble. The bottom was completely smooth save for a single carved rune. On top a single silver ring was mounted, wide enough to resemble a bracelet. Around it were a few other rings, carrying small balls that might have made it made it resemble a model of the sun and planets.

            But Lucius’s expert eye read the other rings and balls for the late additions they were, simple disguises for a harmful object. He slid his hand through the single silver ring in the center, careful not to disrupt the magic of the illusion.

            It was wide enough to admit a hand, and most of his forearm before Lucius would have crumpled the delicate ring if he was holding the real artifact. He drew his arm back and touched the point where he could almost feel silver constricting his skin, despite this artifact only being an illusion.

            Yes. The point on his forearm he touched was well above the Dark Mark.

            Lucius smiled. He would not have thought to find one of these sitting in a shop for simple artifacts.

            “Mr. Malfoy?”

            Lucius dissipated the illusion with a single snap of his wand. Borgin couldn’t think that Lucius desired the object. He would raise the price unbearably otherwise, and laugh, and be coy—annoyances enough when Lucius was in his presence.

            And after Lucius left the shop, he might spread rumors. Those wiser than Borgin would recognize the object for what it was.

            If the rumors came to the Dark Lord’s ears, he would also draw the correct conclusions.

            “Yes, Borgin.” Lucius came back to the front of the shop and looked around with a bored expression he didn’t have to feign. Other than the small one Lucius had found, there were no objects of interest here for him. “I think I will be looking in other shops for a gift for my son after all. If the most interesting thing you have is a broken model of the sun and planets that doesn’t even get the orbital distance right…”

            “The distances on the model are accurate, Mr. Malfoy.” Borgin bristling in defense of something so absurd was a joy to watch, Lucius thought. He maintained the calm, bored expression while Borgin strode up to the artifact and jerked it off the shelf.

            There, the disguise proves its worth, Lucius thought. The flimsy outer rings bounced, while the innermost one stayed still.

            “I promise,” said Borgin. “And this artifact can do something else which your son should find interesting.”

            He really does have the most lewd wink. “What is that?” Lucius let himself look over the artifact in a leisurely manner. “He is doing well enough in Astronomy that he doesn’t need a reminder of the order of the planets, which is the only use I can see this having. In fact, perhaps not even that. Are they even labeled?”

            Borgin huffed at him and turned the artifact over. Lucius thought he tensed, but Borgin was tracing the rune on the bottom of the artifact with a finger. Once again, he had damaged nothing. “Of course they are! But the value, Mr. Malfoy,” and Borgin lowered his voice and sneaked closer, “is in the bottom and not the surface of the artifact.”

            “Is it?” Lucius leaned closer and let himself assume a slightly less bored expression, that of a person who could be persuaded.

            “It is.” Borgin nodded impressively and stroked the rune with a finger.

            Even expecting it, Lucius still flinched from the sheer white light that exploded from the object. Well, if he hadn’t flinched, he might have shown Borgin that he knew what to expect, which would be worse than the slight weakness his reaction connoted.

            And he would be none the worse off for letting Borgin use his “weakness” to underestimate him.

            “That light can startle, as you saw,” said Borgin, and he was grinning openly now, to let Lucius know he had indeed interpreted the flinch the way Lucius had hoped he would, “but it can also erase.”

            Lucius waited, enough to let Borgin’s grin fade a bit, and then said, “It seems to me that Memory Charms do that just as well.”

            Borgin snorted. “Can a Memory Charm erase a defect? A scar? A wound that someone gave you in a duel? No.”

            Lucius shook his head. “It seems to me that healing charms take care of those as well. Although…a defect, you say?”

            Borgin nodded eagerly. “You need to place the affected body part in here,” he said, and gestured at the inner ring. “Then you activate the rune on the bottom. More powerfully than I just did now, of course,” he added with a coarse chuckle. “It takes more than a bit of blood.”

            Lucius nodded without moving his eyes from Borgin’s face.

            “You don’t believe me, do you?” Borgin sighed. “There’s nothing to be done for them that won’t, I s’pose.”

            “I believe you. I simply do not understand what you mean by erasing defects. Perhaps you could give me an example.”

            Borgin snorted. “Sure. An eye defect, for one thing. You want to correct eyes that are too narrow or crossed or squinting or don’t see well? You put your neck in there. And you could straighten a crooked finger, or a twisted toe. Anything that’s part of you and you don’t want anymore, then you can get rid of it.”

            “With blood, and nothing else?”

            Borgin laughed. “Most people find the blood’s more than enough to put them off!” He winked in a way Lucius wanted to slap off his face. “Should have known it wouldn’t be for you, Mr. Malfoy.”

            Lucius spent a few more moments hesitating, as if dithering. Then he nodded sharply and reached for the Galleons that he always carried in a concealed, inner pocket of his robes. It took the tap of specifically his wand to open that pocket; all any thief would get was a wad of cloth and clinking coins.

            “Thank you kindly,” said Borgin, and handed the artifact to Lucius as he bowed over the coins. Lucius spent one more moment glancing around the shop, then left to walk to the end of Knockturn Alley and Apparate home.

            Of course he would spend more time studying the artifact before he used it. Those that relied on blood were not to be lightly tampered with.

            But now he had a much more solid lead on how to get rid of the Dark Mark than he’d had for months.

*

            “My name is Osric Lughborn. Thank you for inviting me to meet with you, Mr. Potter.”

            Harry stood up to shake the hand of the heavyset wizard in front of him. He wasn’t as tall as Professor Snape, who stood behind him and watched Harry as if he thought Harry would faint away any second, but he almost looked like it. He was just so strong, Harry thought. Built like Dudley maybe would have been if Dudley ever exercised.

            Lughborn had golden hair and intense eyes that were sort of amber and reminded Harry a little of Lupin’s. But he also thought Lughborn was the kind of person who would have told Harry immediately if he was a werewolf, so he wasn’t afraid.

            More than that, I would have told you if I smelled wolf.

            Harry smiled down at Dash as he took the seat opposite Lughborn, and noticed the man watching Dash carefully. Harry lifted his head. “Dash doesn’t attack anyone that I don’t tell him to attack, Mr. Lughborn. Unless that person is attacking me right then.”

            Lughborn nodded. “He has already impressed me as different from an ordinary basilisk. I fought one a few years ago. It was obviously a wild animal, and although I had some artifacts that should have allowed me to understand a snake without speaking to it, I could make nothing of its mad hissing.”

            Probably it had been left alone without someone to bond with, said Dash, and darted his tongue out. Or maybe it was the inferior kind of basilisk that people evidently ran around making until Slytherin decided to make me. He held out his head in a way that invited people to admire the gleam of light off his scales.

            Harry rolled his eyes and looked at Lughborn. “So you know I want you to help my godfather?”

            “Sirius Black. Yes.” Lughborn crossed his legs. “We keep up with the news from Britain, so we heard of it when he was released. What I did not hear of was any news that he had been under the care of a Mind-Healer.”

            “Well, he wasn’t.”

            “Not at all?” Lughborn stared at Harry, and then turned to stare at Snape. Harry hoped that wasn’t because he thought Harry was lying. Lughborn’s next words seemed to indicate it wasn’t, though. “Why would the Wizengamot not insist on that?”

            “A combination of Harry’s celebrity and the control Albus Dumbledore had over the Wizengamot at the time,” Snape said dryly before Harry could think of what to say. “Plus, perhaps, some lingering prejudice in favor of the Black name and guilt over Black having been unjustly sent to Azkaban. The general idea was that he must be released at once in order for Mr. Potter to have a godfather and to make up for the years of harm done to him.”

            He really does sound impressively neutral when he speaks of the smelly dog-man. On the other hand, he cannot smell him.

            “That is simply outrageous.” Lughborn said it in such a deep tone that Harry believed him, even though the only person he had heard say anything like that in the past was Aunt Petunia, and he had never believed her when she did it. Lughborn turned to face Harry again. “I will do my best to help your godfather. I will charge nothing. My family vaults contain enough to support me, and goblin banks connect everywhere. But you should understand that it will take a long time. Particularly if Mr. Black does not want to cooperate.”

            “I think he will. He really wants to get me back.”

            “He is not getting you back,” Snape said, with a viciousness that startled Harry. He saw Lughborn reach for his wand, although Harry found it hard to look at him with Snape looming over his shoulder and scowling like that. “I have your custody, and I would not release it until long after he gets a few months of Mind-Healing.”

            “How did the custody transfer happen?” Lughborn asked, turning to consider Snape.

            “I went to the Wizengamot and requested it,” said Snape in satisfaction. “And I carried evidence with me that Black was an unfit guardian.”

            “Then you should not be present when I discuss the results of the counseling sessions with Mr. Potter,” said Lughborn calmly. “You might prejudice him unnecessarily against signs that his godfather is actually getting better.”

            Harry opened his mouth, and kept it there. He hadn’t thought anyone would dare to speak up like that against Snape, even if Harry privately agreed with them.

            “I will not agree to that. Black has already almost destroyed Harry by his behavior around him when it was not monitored. I will be with him no matter what happens.”

            Lughborn sighed and said, “I thought it might be like this. Do you want Harry to have his godfather back, or do you want to punish Black?”

            “Both,” said Snape, making Harry blink. He also hadn’t thought Snape would ever say anything like that. Maybe he was responding differently because Lughborn was also a Mind-Healer. “But I do not intend to transfer custody, which seems to be what you are implying: that you will strive to make Black well enough to take custody back.”

            “I had assumed that it was what Harry wanted.” Lughborn turned to Harry. “Why don’t you tell me what you feel, then? Do you want to stay with Professor Snape, or would you rather return to your godfather when he’s well enough?”

            Harry blinked, and blinked again. He reached down to tap the scales on the back of Dash’s neck, but Dash only curled himself up tighter in response.

            We have different ideas on this, as you know very well, he told Harry when Harry tried to talk to him. I would be prejudicing your ideas if I told you what I think.

            Harry looked up and said slowly, “I didn’t like the way Professor Snape got custody. He didn’t tell me he was going in front of the Wizengamot. He asked me to forgive him, but he did take me without telling me he was going to do it.” He licked his dry lips. “I didn’t like that, and it took me a while to forgive him for it.”

            Snape seemed to be holding his breath. Lughborn, who was focusing completely on Harry and ignoring Snape standing behind his chair, asked, “Have you now?”

            Harry nodded. “Yes.” He tried to ignore the way Snape breathed out and just concentrate on Lughborn and what he had to tell him. “And I don’t—I wouldn’t want to go back to Sirius unless he apologized, and he was better, and he told me the truth about all these things that he said he couldn’t tell me.”

            “Which would take a long time, probably, even if he does get better.” Lughborn cocked his head. “Has he told you why he won’t tell you the truth?”

            Harry touched his scar. “He thinks I have a mental connection with Voldemort that would mean Voldemort would know those things if I knew them.”

            Lughborn said softly, “That tells me more about my patient than I think you know.” He nodded and turned to Professor Snape. “I can see why you would want to keep custody. But I will still make my recommendation based on what I think is best.”

            “I will do the same.”

            Lughborn glanced between them and smiled a little. “Could you show me to appropriate lodgings in Hogsmeade? I could stay in the castle, but a more neutral setting might be appropriate to firecall Mr. Black from.”

*

            As he walked back from Hogsmeade, Severus looked up at the stars and felt himself give a little shiver of reaction.

            Harry had forgiven him. Harry didn’t want to return to Black’s custody unless a series of probably impossible circumstances was met.

            And Harry had forgiven him.

            Severus closed his eyes and continued tramping, feeling the cold wind whirl past him and break on the Warming Charms in his robes. He felt as if he’d had several Firewhiskys, down to the spinning head.

            But unlike people who drank Firewhisky, he could go back to his quarters and see the reason for all his happiness smiling back at him.

            Severus quickened his step.

*

silver: At the very least, attacking someone who’s currently a ward of a Legilimens is not a good idea.
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A Brother to Basilisks