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Mansions of a Monstrous Dignity	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 3831 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this fanfic.

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Chapter Seven—Seeking Out the Truth

            Harry opened his eyes, and blinked a little. It felt as if he was lying in the middle of cloudy softness, but the last thing he remembered—really remembered—was being helped into one of the beds at Grimmauld Place, and none of them were that soft.

            He sat up, feeling around on his pillows and blankets. A moment later, he snorted. Someone had cast Softening Charms to make them slip around and enfold him as if they were teddy bears with minds of their own. Harry was tempted to roll over, curl up, and go back to sleep in that endless embrace.

            But he had things to do, and above all, he wanted to make sure that neither Draco nor Kreacher had been wounded in the confrontation with the two Montgomerys. He didn’t think they had, but neither did he trust his memory in the middle of flying Dark magic.

            Harry found a pair of soft velvet shoes, the kind that Kreacher was always trying to get him to wear in the house, next to the bed, and slipped them on. The door opened while he was fumbling with his shirt. Draco stepped into the room and stopped when he saw Harry, closing his eyes for a moment. Harry reached out one hand, and Draco crossed the room and took it, gently resting his cheek in Harry’s palm.

            “All right, then?” Harry asked in a whisper. It hadn’t been meant to be, but Draco looked so wan that the words came out.

            “Yes,” Draco said. “At least, I took no extra wounds in the battle, and Kreacher’s brewed a few Healing Potions for me that have helped soothe the ones that I took when my father cursed me.” He looked at Harry and shook his head. “You are lucky that I recognized the spells that witch hit you with. The damage might have been permanent, otherwise.” He tugged gently on Harry’s arm, and Harry turned and stared with blank surprise. Yes, he had been using them both to dress himself with, but he hadn’t remembered until now that he was wounded.

            “Thanks,” he whispered.

            “I told you it was a bad idea for you to go alone,” Draco said, and then closed his eyes and embraced Harry. “But we need to worry about other things than that. Do you have any idea what ritual they had you in the middle of?”

            “No,” Harry said. “But they questioned me first. I think they were hoping I would tell them more than I did.”

            Draco opened his eyes and nodded. “Well, we have them in custody now, and there’ll be more of a chance to question them at our leisure. In the meantime, I think we should have breakfast. Kreacher started cooking it an hour ago. Agreeable to you?” He put his hand on Harry’s shoulder and smirked when Harry had to wipe away a bit of drool.

            “Much better than Diagon Alley food,” Harry said, and let Draco help him to his feet and escort him over to the door of his room. Not that he needed it, but Draco wanted to do it, and needed it more than Harry needed his independence at the moment.

*

            He’s not crippled.

            If Draco hadn’t recognized the effects of the Bone-Shifting Curse in time, Harry might have been, he knew. The curse switched the positions of bones in the arm, or leg, or the chest, and usually the bones insisted on staying in their new places if a certain number of hours passed after the curse was cast.

            But he’d recognized it, and Harry was using both hands to scatter salt and peppers on the largest dish of scrambled eggs that Draco had ever seen, placed squarely in front of him. For now, at least, Draco could relax.

            They had the Ministry to worry about, and the mess at Cuthbert’s Corner, and his parents, and the two wizards they had in custody and had to figure out the best way to interrogate, but right now, nothing was more important than getting food inside Harry.

            Kreacher was helpful in the best ways, bustling around and never stopping with his constant, low-voiced grumbling. He had already served Harry two plates of eggs, and two glasses of pumpkin juice. Harry didn’t even make a pretext of fetching things for himself, although he’d insisted that he could tuck his napkin into his own shirt. He ate, and ate, and Draco watched him, and planned.

            Someone who was willing to use the Bone-Shifting Curse on a captured enemy was someone who didn’t really intend that person to survive. For that matter, Draco wasn’t sure that getting information was their primary goal, either. The Bone-Shifting Curse was notorious for going wrong and killing the people it was used on sooner than the caster intended.

            That left the ritual.

            Draco hadn’t recognized any of the runes and swirling circles inscribed on the floor around Harry’s cage, or the chants they were using, either. He did know that dried blood had made up the circle. That eliminated some of the obvious suspects as to what it might have been. And he intended to have more information very soon, now.

            Harry finally leaned back, patted his belly, and asked, “How did you find me? Did that blood I left at Malfoy Manor come in useful after all?”

            Draco blinked, and said, “No. I got worried about you, so I summoned Kreacher and asked him to take me to you.”

            Harry blinked in turn, and ended up tossing his head back to chuckle. Draco held back what he could have said, sipping his drink and watching Harry instead. Harry sighed, brought his head down, and said, “Damn. I was so proud of myself for thinking that blood could be used to track me. I bit my hand when I realized I couldn’t use any magic in that cage and spilled some blood on the ground. I thought you’d find it if you came to the Manor to look for me.”

            “Unlike you, I don’t rush into risky situations,” Draco said.

            Harry turned his head to glance at Kreacher, and said nothing.

            “Yes, well, some of them I don’t have any choice about, because you rushed into them first,” Draco said. He didn’t know what Harry heard in his voice, but he did raise his hand and slide his fingers through his hair, sighing a little.

            “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, looking up and shaking his head. “I had no idea it would turn out like that. I knew something was wrong as soon as I saw the hole in the wards, but by that time, Montgomery was there.”

            Draco nodded. “And now Montgomery is here,” he said, and stood up. He had eaten enough food earlier to keep Kreacher quiet now, although the little elf’s scowl promised there would probably be retaliation over the matter of lunch. “Shall we?”

            Harry swallowed his tea with no hurry and stood up to follow him. “Edward or Hannah first?”

            “Edward,” Draco said. “I need some time to let my rage at the woman who tortured you cool.”

            Harry’s hand took his elbow. Draco tensed. If Harry told him that it was no big deal, that Draco needed to calm down, that Harry was fine, or anything else that would make it sound as though it wasn’t important that the woman had tortured him, then Draco thought he might turn around and simply hit Harry in the face.

            But instead, Harry murmured, “A wise choice. Which room did you have Kreacher put Edward in?”

*

            It was what Harry thought had been Walburga’s old room, a wise choice. There were bars on the windows, probably because Walburga had been paranoid about someone breaking in, and old wards that Harry hadn’t managed to disarm still flickered and spat there. They would prevent quick entrance and quick exit. It didn’t look as though the Aurors had touched the place, only looked in and left the same thick layer of dust lying on the floor.

            There was a bed in one corner, covered with a thick, wine-dark quilt, and a single chair, but Kreacher had left the bound Montgomery on the floor. He lifted his head and turned his eyes a little towards them as they waked in. Harry managed to ignore the way his gaze lingered on Draco. Of course Montgomery wasn’t affected by the forgetting ritual that the Malfoys had performed on themselves.

            If he tried to use that knowledge against Draco, also of course, he would find himself on the wrong end of Harry’s wand. But Harry didn’t think Montgomery was stupid, just on the opposite side. He wouldn’t attack rashly and without a clear advantage.

            It became obvious that Draco didn’t intend to give him one. He cast a few charms that Harry didn’t recognize, but which Montgomery did, if the way he sat up and stared at Draco was any indication.

            “The Threshold Charm,” Montgomery said. “Such a pity that a young man should know such advanced Dark magic.”

            “Such a pity that an Auror should,” Draco retorted. “Let alone the ritual that you were using to disarm my partner.”

*

            He had made a guess only, because it seemed the most likely explanation for the dried blood as well as for not killing Harry right away, but he saw by Montgomery’s sharply-turned head that he had guessed correctly. He smiled at Montgomery. Harry stepped in between them. Draco thought that was more due to him than Montgomery; Draco had probably looked as though he wanted to eat their prisoner, a more or less accurate summary of his feelings.

            “What does that mean?” Harry asked Draco.

            Draco spoke, but kept his eyes on Montgomery as he did. He doubted that the man, even though forewarned now, would be able to control every telltale little flinch or expression. “It means that he intended to make it impossible for you to use a wand, or defend yourself in any other way. If he had hit you, you couldn’t have blocked him, or cast a curse back at him, or even dodged. You would have had to sit there and take it. If they had tortured you again, you couldn’t have done anything but suffered.”

            There was silence, a long, panting silence on Montgomery’s part. Harry stepped back with his arms folded and his nose wrinkled up. Draco had to smile at him when he saw that, and fuck Montgomery if he thought the smile was for him. Harry was still so innocent in some ways, so incapable of understanding that other people around him might come up with and then use such Dark rituals. He could use Dark Arts on occasion, but that was different from being corrupt or callous at heart.

            “Why?” Harry asked at last. “I could see killing me, imprisoning me, taking my wand away, even asking me the questions they did and breaking my arm.” Draco flashed Montgomery a look that let him know that Draco understood exactly what his cousin had done with her curse, no matter how Harry might be mischaracterizing it right now. “This—this doesn’t make any sense.” He turned around and stared at Montgomery.

            “You have no reason to ask me that, when you are the outlaw, the rebel against the Ministry,” Montgomery said. Incredibly, his voice was still controlled. Of course, Draco thought, someone who had chosen to take on him and Harry—or been placed in charge of doing so—wouldn’t have an ordinary level of fear. He would have fainted before long if he did, at the mere thought of confronting them. “You are the one who should scrutinize your actions and ask the value of such running as you have done.” He leaned forwards. “The Ministry is generous and diverse. We might forgive you if you come back now.”

            “Says the man who approved an assassin’s transfer to our Corps,” Draco murmured. “Do you really have a leg to stand on?”

            Montgomery seemed to have decided that he was better off shutting up about things that his captors might or might not know. He sealed his mouth and watched Draco with eyes that he probably hoped were wise and knowing. Draco sneered at him and said nothing to him for the moment, turning towards Harry.

            “Why do you think they would want to keep you helpless?” he asked. “What use would the Ministry have for you then?”

            As he had hoped would be the case, Harry made the connection almost immediately. His mouth tightened, and his eyes darted over to Montgomery.

            “Someone who was helpless and not visibly wounded,” he began, then hesitated.

            “They would have healed the Bone-Shifting Curse before they let anyone else see you,” Draco confirmed.

            “Someone like that, with my reputation, would have to do whatever they asked,” Harry said. He stepped forwards, then stopped, slamming his own control on himself. Draco, who had lifted his arm to bar Harry’s path to Montgomery, was glad to drop it. It wasn’t that he didn’t share Harry’s desire to obliterate Montgomery, but they could only do it once they had their full evidence.

            “Someone will find me, and Hannah,” Montgomery said, his eyes steel-plated and unblinking now. “They will miss me, an important part of the Auror Department. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

            “I think I do,” Draco said softly, bending towards him. “You took care that others did, didn’t you? You were the one who approved Elder’s transfer. Someone else trusted you to do that, or you came up with the plan and persuaded that person to let you put it into operation. You’re influential. You wanted to get rid of us. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were the one who protected Elder from the consequences of his actions in the past, too. He wasn’t a good enough Auror to have got that far on his own.

“Now the only question that remains is whether you were doing it of your own initiative, or whether you were the servant of someone else.”

Montgomery gave him a wavering smile. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with,” he repeated. “And aren’t we all the servant of someone or something greater than ourselves? You’ve done nothing but state obvious truths since you captured me. I might still be inclined to forgive you if you let me go.”

            “You’re going to talk,” Draco repeated, and drew the vial of a golden potion from his pocket that he’d asked Kreacher to go to his home and retrieve. It was too dangerous to go himself, when the Ministry would have the place under watch, but at least he was sure they wouldn’t have found this, however thoroughly they searched.

            Montgomery’s face went still. Then he said, “That is not Veritaserum.”

            Harry blinked at Draco, probably because he couldn’t imagine what potion he would use if not the one that would make Montgomery tell the truth. Draco smiled at both of them, and agreed, “No, it isn’t.”

            Montgomery was still. He had too much control to react with begging and pleading when he knew it would do no good, Draco thought. He was reluctantly impressed. He had known Malfoys—at least through portraits—without that much composure.

            Draco took a single step forwards, the golden potion in his hand and his eyes fastened on Montgomery’s. Harry took a single step forwards, too, getting in the way when Draco would have liked to go straight ahead and tip the potion down their enemy’s throat. Draco tilted his head back and did his best to give Harry a weary look.

            “What does it do?” Harry asked. He was looking at the potion, not Draco, and that irritated Draco for some reason. He rattled the vial at face level and made Harry look up and at him.

            “It makes someone tell the truth,” Draco said.

            “But it’s not Veritaserum.” Harry folded his arms. “Don’t you think we would get in less trouble with Veritaserum?”

            Draco laughed. The sound rattled and clicked in his throat, not because he wanted it to, but because that was what came out. “You don’t even know what this potion does yet, and you can say that?”

            “I can say that because I know terror, and that’s what’s on his face right now,” Harry said. So steady, so immovable, one of those things Draco loved and resented about him. “It must be something horrible if it’s scaring him that much. So I need to know.”

            Draco closed his eyes a little. He knew it wouldn’t work, but he wanted to shove Harry away, out of the room, and tell him to stay there. Just for once, this didn’t need to concern him. He had gone hunting alone without Draco; now Draco could torture people without him.

            It was their argument about killing twisted all over again. Harry would bring morality into it at the most inconvenient times.

            “It forces the truth out of someone,” Draco finally said, because nothing had changed, and the last thing they needed was a disruption between them that Montgomery might think he could take advantage of. “It makes it impossible to lie, and it hurts them if they try. I think that he deserves at least that much for what he’s done to us.”

            “Hurts them how?”

            Draco hadn’t expected that question, but a second later, he saw how stupid he had been not to expect it. He leaned back on the wall and took a single, deep breath, so that he wouldn’t show any irritation in front of Montgomery. Then he did something better and cast a Muffling Charm at him, so he couldn’t hear or see any of the argument. He ought to have done that in the first place, because of course Harry would raise objections.

            Draco turned to Harry then and said, “It makes them feel as if they were having their guts ripped out. Any more questions?”

*

            Harry glanced at Montgomery, and then back at Draco. He had slightly more experience with Montgomery than Draco did, and he knew it was possible that the man could resist Veritaserum. Or else they just couldn’t take the time to brew it. Which meant that they probably needed this potion.

            But Harry couldn’t stand the thought of putting someone through that kind of pain, even if they had hurt him. If Montgomery had threatened Draco directly and in front of Harry, then Harry could have killed him. That was the way he had killed all the twisted who had tried to hurt Draco, in a solid, concentrated blast of hatred and fear and fury.

            But Montgomery hadn’t done that, and Harry was in a clear frame of mind, sick and shaken at the thought of using that potion on someone. More to the point, sick and shaken at the thought that Draco would use that potion on someone. He was crueler than Harry, Darker than Harry, but the torture he had committed during the war hadn’t been willing, had just been another way to survive.

            Harry didn’t think Draco should have to go through that again.

            On the other hand, if someone was able to threaten Montgomery into telling the truth…

            He leaned nearer Draco to be sure that Montgomery couldn’t hear them, even though Draco made an impatient move when he did. He was sure that Draco was thinking that the Muffling Charm should have been enough precaution.

            But Harry didn’t think so, and he whispered, “Would a threat content you? If I could make Montgomery tell the truth because he’s afraid of me?”

            “There’s no threat that would do that,” Draco hissed against his cheek. “We couldn’t be sure he was telling the truth.”

            “Use Veritaserum later, if you have to,” Harry hissed back. “But I have something that I think might do it.”

            Draco watched him with bored, hard eyes. A second later, he bowed and extended an ironic hand in Montgomery’s direction.

            Harry turned around with his heart pounding and said, “Remove the Muffling Charm.”

            Draco did. Harry knew he was watching his back, and waiting for the moment when Harry’s tactic failed.

            But he hadn’t asked what it was before he gave permission for Harry to do this, and he was still trusting Harry enough to let him have access to Montgomery. That meant a lot to Harry. He walked steadily towards Montgomery, and knelt down in front of him, a safe distance away from Montgomery to avoid kicks or strikes. The man had started to lift his head a little.

            He thinks he’s safe from me, Harry thought.

            He leaned in nearer and said, “Do you know what the Deathly Hallows are?”

            Montgomery stared at him. Then he said, “A fairy tale.”

            Harry shook his head. “The Elder Wand. The Resurrection Stone. The Invisibility Cloak.” He paused for a silent count of three, and then whispered again, “I have held all three in my hands. I am the Master of Death.”

            Montgomery’s eyes had gone wide with astonishment. Then he said, “But you—everyone knows that you came back alive because your mother made a sacrifice for you.”

            Harry smiled darkly at him. “Yes, her loving sacrifice protected me the first few times that Voldemort and I met. But he got around that with the ritual he conducted in my fourth year, the ritual that took the blood of an enemy. After that, the protection flowed in his veins, and he couldn’t be harmed by it.”

            From the look on his face, Montgomery had had a magical education complete enough to know about the ritual Voldemort had chosen. And he didn’t seem to have thought of Horcruxes. Harry leaned close enough to make Montgomery hold his breath, and began to whisper again, with a brief hope that Draco, listening from behind him but perhaps not able to hear a sound, wouldn’t take this the wrong way.

            “I am the Master of Death. You know about the mastery of the Elder Wand, which I told everyone about in the Great Hall at Hogwarts when I dueled Voldemort. The Invisibility Cloak was an heirloom of my father’s; he was descended from the Peverells. And Dumbledore left me the Resurrection Stone. I walked to my death accompanied by the shades of my parents, and my godfather, and Remus Lupin.”

            He knew the conviction in his voice was doing its own work. Montgomery was looking back and forth between Harry’s eyes and the scar on his forehead, and convincing himself, too. The more obscure magical lore Harry could quote, like the Peverells, the more he would think those things had to be true.

            “Do you know what the Master of Death can do?” Harry asked, and let his voice drop to the nastiest hiss he could without crossing over into Parseltongue. “Pursue you beyond death, Edward. You could die, and I could bring you back with the Resurrection Stone and make you serve me. Or I could follow you myself, and drag you back to face more torment. I could bring back the shades of the ones you’ve killed, and make you face them. I could kill Hannah, and you would see the accusing look on her face every day until the day you hanged yourself to join her. If I was kind enough to let you rest even then, of course. What if I brought you back in company? What if you had to stay together for the rest of your eternities?”

            Harry let his voice shake. He had thought about it, that was the thing, lying awake in his bed at night after Lionel died, and even earlier, when the grief over Fred and Remus and Tonks became hard to bear. What if he could bring them back? What if the information and legends he had discovered about the Master of Death after the war was accurate, and he could command the dead in all kinds of ways?

            “I never did,” Harry continued, “because I wanted to be a better person than that. But for you, Edward Montgomery, who was foolish enough to threaten my partner? I would make an exception. So you better bloody well do the same thing.”

            He stared into Montgomery’s eyes, and the man cowered before him, back against the wall, pressing away from Harry instead of straining towards him.

            And then cracked.

            And then began to talk.

            Harry sat back with his eyes closed and let Draco absorb most of it. They probably would have to check it with Veritaserum later. And there was no guarantee that the same tack would work with Hannah.

            For now, though, Harry felt as though he had done his part.

*

            Sasunarufan13: Thank you! I think you have your answers now about what the ritual is used for.

            There will be one more one-shot after this, one more chaptered story, and then a final one-shot to tie everything up.

            SP777: Thanks! Narcissa’s habit of touching her scar is meant to be creepy, yes.
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Mansions of a Monstrous Dignity