Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Freedom Bound in Chains	By : TaintedSensibly Category: Harry Potter AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 58477 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Harry Potter characters. I did not make money from this story.

Chapter List
- 91
- 92
- 93
Repercussions
Dumbledore completely abandoned his dotty elderly image as he sprinted through the castle. His long legs made his stride surprisingly fast, his lavender robes and long white beard flapping behind him carelessly. His expression was one of utter focus.
Dumbledore had come straight from the Ministry of Magic as soon as he realized he’d been drawn purposefully away from the school. It had shocked him terribly! Not in a million years would he have predicted that the Dark Lord’s agent would move so soon, but there could be no other purpose behind the subterfuge.
Whosoever the traitor might be, he thought grimly. Anxiety strummed through him at finally finding out who was working for Voldemort.
In the four months the school had been open that school year, Dumbledore had managed to eliminate all the students from his list of suspects. That meant someone on staff was the traitor, but he didn’t want to believe it. Everyone on staff had worked for him for at least six years and some had been with him for close to forty! He knew them all very well and couldn’t imagine them turning against the school! They were eccentric and some held views different from his own, but none of them were Voldemort supporters. He’d made sure of that!
It took him close to three hours to figure out he’d been tricked away from the school. Another twenty minutes to get to a floo and floo into his office. Another thirty to run down to the dungeons. Breathing heavy, Dumbledore entered the secret passage a few hallways down from one of the potions classroom. It was warded with delicate and intricate magic that was not easily detectable, especially as Dumbledore had rooted the concealing charms in the school’s wards. This passage led directly to the dungeon room containing the Mirror of Erised and the Stone and conveniently bypassed the trials one would face using the more “public” passage.
His most trusted staff members had had reservations, of course, when Dumbledore had made it clear what he wanted. The truth was… the trials were not to protect the Stone, but for Harry and Draco.
You see, the Second War was coming, sooner than anyone realized. Young as they were, the boys had to begin preparing mentally as well as physically. Confronting the agent after the Stone while under Dumbledore’s supervision and protection would allow them an invaluable experience that would prepare them for future battles. Thus, Dumbledore had created an arena in the boys’ favor.
Fate, magic, luck, karma… Whatever the label, it was a powerful force. If the boys were able to overcome the trials that the teachers had created, they'd manage to secure an extra protection in their battle with the traitor. Meanwhile, the Mirror would prevent the traitor from actually getting the Stone, so it was never in any real danger, and with the Magic of a Champion on their side, Harry and Draco would be safe enough to face the traitor for a little time before Dumbledore stepped in.
However, Dumbledore had never expected the traitor to be wily enough to be able to successfully lure him away! Dumbledore had never meant to put the children in any real danger! And the fact that Draco was currently unconscious sent terror shivering down his spine. Harry was exceedingly vulnerable without his magical twin!
In retrospect, the fact that Draco was unconscious made the traitor’s premature attack on the Stone perfectly understandable. After the bold and terrible attack on Draco’s mind, it was clear the traitor saw Draco as a threat. The traitor must have also ensured that the castle’s inhabitants could not interfere, most likely casting a powerful, location-based sleeping enchantment. Why else would his staff not be up in arms? The wards were practically screaming!
The fact he’d run into no one also gave him hope, however. It was possible Harry had been caught up in that same enchantment. Perhaps he was safe and had not gotten involved in the fight over the Stone!
As Dumbledore raced down the spiral staircase, his heart beat hard against his chest. His stomach sat hard and heavy as if he’d swallowed lead. His mind raced, filled with terrible possibilities. Images of Harry’s broken or even dead body flashed through his mind’s eye. Or the mirror bested and the Stone gone, the traitor long since fled, and Voldemort returned to power.
Dumbledore pressed open a hidden door in the shadows beyond the arches of the chamber. The smell of blood, of soot and strangely ice, sat heavy in the air. The sound of absolute silence felt almost tangible against his skin. The room took on an ominous air. Stone walls and floor, dark archways, and a wide staircase leading up into darkness, a mirror standing in the center, and from behind it a glistening dark puddle of blood…
Dumbledore trembled with nerves, his wand held in a shaking hand, as he stepped deeper into the room, out of the shadows and into the light of the torches burning above the archways. Slowly moving from behind the mirror, Dumbledore braced himself for the worst, heart quivering.
He saw the body first, the source of the blood. Saw a white throat slashed halfway through. Muscle and veins and meat brutally exposed and severed. A bald head twisted around awkwardly from the torso, which lay on its back. Eyes wide and staring and empty of all life. Skin pale and bloodless. Pain etched on his young features…. Quirinus Quirrell…
Dumbledore ached for the brilliant young man. Where had Quirinus gone wrong? How had Dumbledore missed the signs that he was in trouble? And then Dumbledore’s distracted, painful thoughts scattered as he stepped fully around the mirror and saw the children and Remus Lupin, blood-spattered and terribly injured. Both Harry and Remus looked unconscious, Harry sprawled in Draco’s lap, Remus slumped at their side.
Draco’s grey eyes calmly met Dumbledore’s as the Headmaster rushed to their side. The boy was practically soaked head to toe in blood. His face was horrifically splattered with dark red. “Took you long enough, old man. I was getting sick of waiting.”
“Are you injured?” Dumbledore demanded, sinking to his knees next to the boy.
“None of it’s mine,” Draco answered casually, eyes still watching him.
Something silver drew Dumbledore’s attention. He saw a small, terribly sharp knife discarded on the stone floor, no more than an inch from the edge of the pool of blood that had spilled from Quirinus’s body. Dumbledore stared at the small boy in utter horror. “You… cut his throat?”
A disturbing smile curled Draco’s lips as he answered with a simple, “Yes.” He finally looked away from Dumbledore, eyes darting down to Remus as he rested his hand on the crown of the man’s dirty blond head. “Both of his legs are broken, as well as one arm. There’s probably other stuff wrong with him, too.” Draco nodded to Harry. “Cuts and bruises, nothing too bad. Unconscious, though. I want him set up in the private room next to the infirmary with me until he wakes up.”
“The Stone?” Dumbledore asked faintly, still completely shocked.
“Harry destroyed it somehow. I didn’t see it, so I don’t know what he did.”
“Destroyed it?” Dumbledore blinked. That was impossible! The Stone was a powerful artifact!
Sudden fury flashed across Draco’s small face. “Help me get them to the infirmary, Dumbledore. Your answers can wait!”
A gasp sounded behind them. Dumbledore turned to see Minerva and Severus coming around the mirror.
“Percy Weasley came for me. He managed to break the spell,” Minerva explained. Her face had gone pale with horror at seeing her young colleague and former student murdered, as well as Remus and the boys bloody and hurt.
Severus was already kneeling next to the boys. He didn’t explain how he’d managed to break free of the enchantment. He was busy straightening Harry’s body and orientating him on his back under Draco’s unblinking gaze.
Carefully, Severus levitated the messy-haired child on the equivalent of a magical stretcher. “Get Lupin,” he bit out, eyes flashing up to the frozen Minerva.
Minerva snapped into motion and rushed to her former pupil’s side. She gasped again at seeing the state of his body. “He’s going into shock!”
Dumbledore pushed awkwardly to his feet. “I’m going to secure these rooms and see if I can find the Stone,” he announced gravely. “Minerva, Severus, after you get them secured with Poppy, please check on the rest of the staff.”
Severus made no reply, but Minerva gave a quick, “Of course.”
A queasy, shivery feeling shot down Dumbledore’s spine as he observed Draco. The young child stood barefoot in hospital pants and shirt, his front covered in blood, and yet he was completely uninjured and unaffected with a man murdered and dead at his feet, his twin and Remus unconscious and broken floating on stretchers at his side… It was beyond disturbing. Draco never once looked back at the Headmaster as he calmly followed Severus and Minerva into the secret passage beyond the archways. He also never made an attempt to wipe his face.
Dumbledore’s gut reaction was fear. The boy was dangerous, damaged… wrong… but Dumbledore forced the feeling away. Draco had clearly defended himself. Whatever had happened here, Remus and Harry’s injuries proved it had been violent and life-threatening. Dumbledore had to think clearly!
Locking away his emotions, he began to examine the evidence closely. He'd think about how to handle Draco once he had all of the facts.
xXx
Remus had been placed in a hospital bed in the main infirmary. As Draco requested, since there were currently no adults awake to argue against him, Severus levitated Harry into the closest private room within the Hospital Wing. It was identical to the one Narcissa had secured for the boys after Harry’s nearly fatal fall down the stairs.
Small, with a single window. A bed with white sheets and a nightstand with a single vase of flowers and two drawers. There was a long table against the wall that was empty for now, but most likely was where medical supplies and potions would be set if needed. A padded rocking chair had been placed in the corner. It was a comfortable room, but it had a sterile feel to it.
“You can put him on top. I want to clean him before I put him under the covers,” Draco ordered softly.
Severus made no complaint. He was just happy Draco didn’t seem to hate and suspect him any longer. “Madam Pomfrey should arrive soon,” he spoke just as carefully. “As soon as Professor McGonagall manages to revive her and she performs first aid on Lupin.”
Draco nodded his head. He kept his eyes diverted, but his body language wasn’t submissive. He was merely trying to avoid a confrontation. Voldemort’s spell had been broken, but he still remembered the burning conviction that Snape was his enemy. It was a hard feeling to shake even though intellectually he knew that feeling was implanted by his true enemy.
“I suggest you clean up as much as you can before she arrives,” Severus continued awkwardly. He conjured a bowl and a pitcher. A third spell summoned water. A fourth enchanted the pitcher to be Never-Empty. “Do not drink the water,” he advised. “Summon a House Elf if you are hungry or thirsty.”
“I will,” Draco answered, voice neutral. He kept his body between Snape and Harry.
Severus turned to leave, but he stopped and turned back before he reached the door. “I brewed a powerful potion for you on the night of the Solstice. It will create an impenetrable barrier around your mind. No one will be able to enter it again, nor will you ever be able to enter the mind of another barring your twin.” Dark eyes caught and held Draco’s grey solemnly. “It is permanent and irreversible should you choose to drink it.”
Draco nodded to indicate that he understood, his face still carefully blank, and Severus slipped quietly out of the room.
Draco cleaned his face, neck, and hands as best he could, but then he turned his attention to taking care of his boy. It was difficult with Harry limp and unconscious, but Draco managed to get him undressed. First to go were the Converse shoes, one of which was dyed red with blood much to Draco’s extreme displeasure.
Carefully, he peeled Harry out of the torn black jeans and the dirty shirt and sweater. He had just begun to wash Harry clean when the door opened behind him. Instinctively, Draco turned, teeth bared, and opened his arms to block Harry from sight as much as possible.
Madam Pomfrey ignored Draco’s defensive posture. She was flustered by the extensive injuries Lupin had suffered and was anxious to assess the extent of the damage on the children. “Step aside,” she ordered distractedly.
Unimpressed, Draco nonetheless lowered his arms and took a single step to the right. He watched the nurse like a hawk as Pomfrey twirled her wand over his boy for several minutes.
“Contusions and minor lacerations,” she concluded. “I’m more concerned about his unconscious state. Do you know what caused it?”
Draco didn’t answer. He didn’t trust her one bit. Like hell would he reveal Harry’s connection to Voldemort through he black core. Besides, from her perspective he was just a dumb kid. She wasn’t really expecting useful information out of him. To prove him right, she had already moved on to other tests, her wand dancing.
She did not share with him her conclusion once the spells were done. “Let me get a look at you. Take a seat on the bed,” she ordered.
“I’m fine.” He did not comply. “The blood’s not mine.”
She looked uneasy at this statement. If bloody clothes - granted, really bloody clothes - made her uneasy, it was a good thing he’d washed his face.
“Very well. I’ll bring you and Mr. Potter fresh clothes when I return to treat his leg. In the meantime, I suggest you take a very thorough shower.” She gestured to the door that was set against the side wall and the bathroom beyond it.
Draco stood by Harry’s side, calmly stroking the boy’s hair while he waited for Pomfrey to return. As promised, she brought clean hospital pants and t-shirts. Draco accepted the clothes, but he intended to have an elf fetch his own. He did not like the thin hospital attire.
Draco carefully finished washing Harry and dressed him in the hospital clothes before finally taking the prescribed shower. He turned the water on as hot as he could stand and did a quick scrub down. He left the bathroom door wide open, unwilling to let Harry out of his sight, especially with Harry in such a vulnerable state. Once he was clean, an elf brought him thick socks, a pair of his Converse, a comfy pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and a warm sweater from the armoire in their dorm.
A glance at his watch revealed it was just past midnight. Asking the date, he realized he had been in a coma for six days. The thought made his skin crawl. Anything could have happened to Harry in that time. Including coming face to face with Voldemort and a mad-wizard intent on killing him, it seemed. Draco was not amused.
xXx
Dumbledore arrived at the infirmary nearly an hour after the boys had arrived. Pomfrey had just completed the administration of her first treatment for Remus’s many injuries. She stepped back with a deep sigh, her laser focus relaxing as she turned to the Headmaster. Her face bleached white however when she saw who he was hovering behind him.
“Albus! My God!” she exclaimed in horror, rushing over to the Headmaster’s side as the body was set gently on a bed. “Quirinus! What happened, Albus!”
Gravely, Dumbledore covered the dead man with a white sheet, hiding his mutilated body from view. He turned to his long-time associate. “Poppy… I need to speak to Remus to get a full understanding of what happened. Is it possible?”
She didn’t answer, her eyes still glued to the form under the white sheet.
“Poppy,” he repeated firmly, putting a hand on her shoulder.
“I…” the matronly woman folded her hands before her as if in prayer. Tears filled her eyes. “Yes… An Ennervate should wake him, but he may be groggy from the potions and pain…”
“Thank you.” Dumbledore gently turned her so that she could no longer look at the bed and instead faced him. “Poppy, do you feel capable of examining… Quirinus? It might help us understand what happened to him. We owe his family that much.”
“I… Albus…” Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she straightened her shoulders. “Yes. Of course.”
Dumbledore gave her a look so proud that she couldn’t help flushing red in the cheeks.
Tiredly, Dumbledore turned from the nurse and made his way to the bed where Remus slept. There was no twinkle in his eyes tonight. His face looked decades older than it had the day before. Yet his hand was rock steady when he cast a mild Ennervate on his former student.
Remus’s lax expression tensed, his brows dipping down as golden brown eyes opened slowly, the pupils blown wide. The man’s breathing picked up, tension lined his body, but he was unable to move. His legs were strapped to splints, as was his right arm.
“A-Albus…” Remus rasped, a nearly inaudible whimper escaping his lips.
Dumbledore conjured a chair and pulled it very close to the bed. He placed a warm hand on the man’s shoulder and bent his face close so Remus would not have to work so hard to be heard. “I know you are in pain, my boy. I am very sorry for that, but I need to know what happened tonight. Can you muster the strength to tell the story? I promise to let you rest once you’re done.”
“Harry?” Remus asked weakly, ignoring the Headmaster’s request.
“He’s well taken care of under Madam Pomfrey’s care,” Dumbledore assured him patiently, but his eyes grew brighter, magic activating around him in a subtle compulsion to talk and tell the truth. “What happened, Remus? I need to know if I’m to protect them.”
That made sense in Remus’s groggy mind. Besides, he knew Dumbledore would find out what happened regardless. There was no point in trying to keep it a secret. Exhaustion pulled hard on every cell of his being, pain rumbled in the distance of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. Sharp spikes of pain stabbed him from the inside out again and again centered mostly around his thighs and arm.
“Ron… Ron came… I was sleepy, but I knew I had to get up. To move… Ron wanted to come. Cast Stupefy…”
“I will fetch him,” Dumbledore promised when Remus looked at him in concern.
Remus nodded. Sweat beaded up on his face, his voice grew tight from the pain. “Went after Harry and Percy… Found them before they reached the chess room… Let them come as long as they just watch… At potion room… caught up with Quirrell… ordered boys to go back, but Harry followed… Fire kept me from sending him away… I figured out potion. Ordered Harry stay… He looked… He looked so…”
Remus shook his head, tears leaking out of eyes and rolling down his temple into his hair line. “Went down into the dungeon room… Quirrell… was different, wrong… laughing, crazed. Attacked me. With powerful dark magic. Fought him. Lost. Strange voice spoke before he killed me. It was… high-pitched. Quirrell talked to it, listened to it. I passed out. When I came to, Harry… Harry was there. Quirrell was attacking him. There- there was something… A face on Quirrell’s head… He was possessed, Headmaster! I- I tried to protect Harry. Attacked Quirrell. Gave it everything I had…” More tears spilled. “But… I couldn’t…”
Dumbledore squeezed his shoulder tightly. “You did wonderfully, my boy. Harry is perfectly fine. He’s safe.”
Remus nodded and continued, voice wrecked with repressed sobs. “Draco… Draco saved me. Quirrell was about to cast the Killing Curse… Saw the light building… Draco came. Distracted him. Attacked him. Saved me. Then… Then something came out of Quirrell… A dark shadow… a Shade… It attacked Draco, but Harry… Harry jumped between them. Draco wrapped his arms around Harry and Harry flung his hands forward… There was a flash of light… It was so bright… The Shade exploded and Harry collapsed. The Shade… It came back together… I tried to crawl to them, to protect them… But it fled up the stairs… It didn’t attack again…”
“Thank you, my boy. You did brilliantly,” Dumbledore praised again. He rested a gentle hand on Remus’s head. “Get some sleep. You need to rest.”
Remus didn’t even hear him. He’d reached the last of his strength and had passed out again.
Minerva had appeared halfway through this retelling. Once Remus had fallen silent, she approached Dumbledore carefully and put a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ve revived the staff and returned Percy and Ron to the dorms. They are very concerned for their friends.”
Dumbledore nodded and stood, the chair he’d conjured disappearing.
“Albus… What happened to Quirinus?” She asked tearfully, but her back was straight and her eye contact was strong. Her grey-streaked hair was pulled back in her customary bun and she wore her most severe black robes.
They had both taught Quirinus while he’d attended Hogwarts. A timid boy, but brilliant when it came to research and studying. He’d been a good addition to the staff when he’d taken the position of Muggle Studies professor nearly six years ago. His students did well under his tutelage and he worked well with the other staff members.
He’d also been equally knowledgable in the theory of defense, so when he’d asked to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts for a year, Dumbledore had accepted, believing Quirinus to still be young enough to need stimulation or he’d grow bored. Dumbledore would have hated to lose Quirinus as a teacher and allowed him to take a sabbatical abroad to gain more hands-on experience before taking up the DADA position. It was understood that after his year was done, Quirinus would return to his position as Muggle Studies professor to avoid the DADA’s curse.
Grieving for the loss of a former student and a young man under his care, Dumbledore led her toward the doors, away from Poppy and Remus. He kept his voice low and peered at her over his half-moon spectacles. “The Dark Lord possessed him sometime during his sabbatical,” he told her gravely. “Voldemort used him in an attempt to gain the Stone in order to perform a resurrection.” He looked into the eyes of one of his few true friends and was completely honest with her. “Minerva, we are running out of time. If we are lucky, we will have a few years yet before Voldemort returns, but he is coming.”
She paled, a trembling hand coming up to cover her mouth.
Taking a deep breath, Dumbledore pushed his grief and fear aside. His expression hardened into that of a war-leader. “Contact Quirinus’s family. They will need to collect his body and prepare for his funeral. Tell them that Quirinus died defending the school and students from a Dark wizard. Contact the Aurors as well and prepare Hogwarts to receive them.”
Minerva came to attention. “Yes, sir.” She turned and strode away without asking any further questions.
“Headmaster…”
Dumbledore turned to see his very ill looking nurse standing a few feet behind him. “Poppy?”
“He was in terrible condition, Headmaster,” she told him. Despite her ill appearance, she spoke evenly and clearly. “I don’t know what he came in contact with, but his hand had completely rotted. It was degrading the rest of his arm and would have continued to spread. Unrelated to this rot, his organs were also in near critical condition and his brain had begun to form small growths. The unicorn blood I found in his system was the only thing holding him together. He would not have lived more than a few weeks longer had his throat not been cut. Official cause of death was blood loss. His jugular artery had been severed. He bled out in less than two minutes.”
Dumbledore took a minute to absorb the information - the realization of what had been killing the unicorns caused him deep pain. Poor Quirinus. In his right mind, he would have been beyond horrified! “Thank you, Poppy,” he finally answered. “If you would be so kind as to write up a report for his family… perhaps omitting the state of his organs and the unicorn blood… I know his hand and arm cannot be hidden, nor his cause of death, but I’d like to afford him some dignity…”
Too shocked and horrified by the events that had occurred, Pomfrey didn’t even argue. She nodded and almost robotically made her way to her office.
The Aurors would arrive soon, Dumbledore couldn’t put it off any longer. He made his way to his office. He didn’t bother to sit down, instead taking up a quill and pulling parchment over to him as he bent over his desk. He wrote two very brief explanations and moved to his beloved phoenix.
“Fawkes.” With trembling fingers, Dumbledore stroked the bird’s bright red feathers. The phoenix trilled, the sound sweet and soothing, making Dumbledore smile softly. “Take one to Malfoy Manor. The other to the Tonks Residence, please.”
Fawkes flapped his wings and trilled once more before taking the letters into a taloned claw. He lifted off from his perch, his long tail feathers dangling near to the floor before he flew toward the window. Before he ever made it outside, a ball of fire enveloped his body and he was gone, leaving behind the scent of a campfire in his wake.
xXx
Lucius was pulled from a restless sleep when a ball of fire erupted with heat and light above his bed. With a yell, he tossed himself to the side and snatched his wand from under his pillow. Disoriented and confused, it took him a minute to realize there was a phoenix hovering above his head.
Lucius stumbled to the chair sitting in the corner and took up the dressing robe he had had draped over its back. Stepping into the outer chamber of the master suite, he sat heavily in a chair at his small personal desk and waved his fingers, bringing the lights in the room to full. The phoenix followed him, of course, trilling and cooing, making it impossible to maintain his temper. He carefully accepted the letter that the phoenix bore and it disappeared in another ball of fire. A sneer immediately made its way onto his face now that the trilling was gone. Lucius tore the letter open and read it quickly.
Draco was awake. There had been an incident at the school. Harry was unconscious in the infirmary. It was requested that Lucius come to the school. The floo to the Headmaster’s office would be unlocked.
Before Lucius could even get upset by another catastrophe at the school involving his ward, the Unbreakable Vow, made all those months ago, twanged painfully. Draco was awake. Lucius had to tell him everything he’d learned regarding Harry’s “black” core. And it wasn’t going to be pretty.
xXx
Andromeda was a light sleeper. As soon the phoenix arrived, her eyes shot open. Ted was on his side, snoring softly beside her, one arm flung casually over her stomach. He didn’t even stir. She smiled and carefully slipped out from under his arm.
The phoenix had perched on the small desk she had placed to the side of the room. It trilled sweetly, making her smile grow. A letter was clutched in its talons. She accepted it, and with a last coo, the phoenix flew around the room and disappeared in a ball of fire. She hardly noticed, her attention riveted to the letter in her hand.
Oh, hell no! Harry was unconscious in the infirmary again! Rage began to burn in Andromeda’s core. Like hell was she going to let things slide any longer! The Headmaster had a lot of explaining to do, and if she didn’t like his answers, there’d be hell to pay!
xXx
Dumbledore stood in front of his desk deep in thought. His head was lowered and he stood absentmindedly stroking his long beard when Fawkes returned in a ball of fire that brightened the room and filled it with warmth. Until that moment, Dumbledore hadn’t realized just how much the cold had seeped into the room.
A gestured of age-gnarled fingers and the hearth blazed bright and warm, the fire growing two-fold. He also summoned additional candles and had them float along the ceiling. The instruments on the shelves by his desk glimmered in the now bright light.
The room was full of colors and textures, rugs on the floor, dozens of paintings high up on the walls filled with watchful Headmasters and mistresses of the past. His books looked old and worn. Fawkes, a splash of vivid red, sat on his perch grooming himself, head tucked under one wing. Dumbledore conjured four mismatching chairs close to the fire in anticipation of his guests. The conversation ahead of him would no doubt be difficult.
As if summoned by his thoughts, the newly strengthened fire flared green and Andromeda stepped out wearing jeans, boots, a sweater and a jacket. Her long, brown hair had been pulled up into a messy bun, but her casual appearance did nothing to soften the look of cold fury on her face.
“What happened?” she demanded, eyes unblinking and trained on him.
Dumbledore inclined his head and gestured to one of the plush armchairs he’d set in a close square, all facing inward so they could talk comfortably. “Let us wait for the Malfoys,” he suggested softly.
Andromeda moved stiffly to one of the chairs, but she didn’t sit down. Dumbledore remained standing with her.
The fire flared green a few minutes later, breaking the awkward silence. Lucius Malfoy stepped from the hearth dressed immaculately in full robes of dark blue and black layers and a dark grey cloak. His long blond hair had been tied to the side with a black ribbon and fell over his shoulder. His silver-headed cane finished off the intimidating look. He did not speak, instead he studied Dumbledore dispassionately.
Dumbledore dared to ask, “Shall we wait for Lady Malfoy?”
“She is unable to attend this meeting,” Lucius answered, voice bland and devoid of inflection.
Dumbledore was very perplexed by this turn of events, but he gestured to the chairs nonetheless. “Then let us be seated, please. This will take a moment.”
Lucius took two graceful strides forward and sat regally in the offered armchair. Andromeda was still coldly glaring, but she took a chair.
Dumbledore sat with them. He linked his fingers over his lean stomach and studied them solemnly over his half-moon glasses. “It is not common knowledge, however, ten years ago, certain facts suggested to me that Voldemort had not fully perished in Godric’s Hollow. I have been ever vigilant for signs of Voldemort’s return and grew concerned over the last year when interest began to surface regarding the Sorcerer’s Stone.”
Dumbledore looked at the two former Slytherins across from him, but neither looked as if they wanted to interrupt. They sat still and watchful, listening as carefully and patiently as any snake, so he continued. “As the Stone is a uniquely powerful artifact that could potentially return Voldemort to power, I prevailed upon my good friend Flamel to store the Stone somewhere unassailable. Thus, over the summer, he placed it in a secured vault in Gringotts. Unfortunately, I was given reason to believe that it was not safe even there.
“It took a significant amount of persuasion, but I managed to convince my friend to let me guard the Stone personally and retrieved it from the vault. That very night the vault that had previously held the Stone was broken into. This worried both of us a great deal and I kept the Stone here in the school behind many protections, wards, and spells. Shortly after, those defenses were tested and it became clear a Dark agent had infiltrated the school.”
“Infiltrated…” Andromeda repeated slowly, hazel eyes narrowing. “You are implying that you were unable to discover this person despite your great power, knowledge, experience, and access to the most comprehensive wards in the UK?”
Lucius offered her a cold smile. “Do you not know his modus operandi? Dumbledore is perfectly inept when it is convenient for him to be so.”
Dumbledore’s thick eyebrows bunched over his pale blue eyes. “I understand your suspicion given our opposite political positions, Lucius, but I assure you that I would never willingly harbor Voldemort within these walls.”
Andromeda’s anger disappeared under a wave of alarm. Her eyes went wide. “Voldemort? Here?”
“His Shade possessed one of the professors,” Dumbledore reported with honest regret. He flashed Lucius a narrowed-eyed look. “I hope you can agree that possession is incredibly difficult to detect.”
“He retrieved the Stone?” Andromeda demanded urgently, breaking into the stupid staring contest between the men.
“No.” Dumbledore shook his head. “Fortunately, that is not the case. The Stone was destroyed by Harry before Voldemort could gain access to it. However, the battle that led up to the Stone’s destruction was brutal.”
Andromeda and Lucius listened as Dumbledore outlined the fight as he knew it from the evidence he’d gathered from the rooms and Remus’s testimony. He concluded his tale by describing in a clinically way the current condition of all those involved, including Quirrell’s death.
Andromeda sat pale and still except for the trembling in her hands. A few things stood out to her. “My child, within your school, unaided and unprotected, fought a full grown Dark wizard possessed by one of the most evil Dark Lord’s of the age. To protect a Stone that you were supposed to protect. And you did so with a troll and a logic puzzle any Ravenclaw could solve. Against a Dark wizard who you knew was motivated enough to break into Gringotts of all places and get out without being caught.”
Lucius was reeling over another detail. “Harry used the troll’s head as a bowl to pour Vivificantis serum and I repeat - Vivificantis serum! - over the Sorcerer’s Stone… The most dangerous and deadly magical substance in existence. So dangerous, in fact, that simply breathing in the fumes is a death sentence. How is it that he came to be in possession of such a substance?”
In the face of their growing outrage, Dumbledore was compelled to explain the mirror’s role in the protections around the Stone and to assure Lucius that there was no way to detect the serum while it was inert. However, he insisted with absolute conviction that Harry had not gotten the substance from anyone on the staff or from the village.
“I don’t understand,” Andromeda snapped. “If the mirror was so fail-proof, why did you have the other protections at all? What purpose did they serve except…” Her eyes widened in horror. “They were for the boys.”
“Now, Andromeda, you must understand…” Dumbledore tried to say.
Almost without realizing it, the witch slowly stood, her voice rising in volume until she was yelling. “You planned all along for Draco and Harry to go after the Stone. You planned for them to do battle with an unknown Dark wizard! You were testing them, you amoral bastard! Testing two First-year boys you have been charged to protect!”
Dumbledore felt himself go still as Andromeda’s aura flared around her in dangerous pulses. Several instruments on his shelves squealed and gyrated furiously. Voice dropping from a yell, Andromeda whispered in a furious hiss, her eyes slitted and her fingers tensed as if they were claws. “Are you out of your bloody mind, Dumbledore?”
Lucius’s voice, cold as the arctic, cut into the standoff. His eyes had taken on a silver sheen. “I am taking the boys, Dumbledore. You will be hearing from me soon.” The threat in that promise was thick enough to cut with a knife. He stood and made his way to the door.
“Remember that I am an ally. We have a bigger enemy before us,” Dumbledore implored quietly.
Without turning around, Lucius answered, “I know exactly who my enemies are.” His hand reached out and rested on the handle of the door.
“Your son slit a man’s throat in cold-blood, Lucius, and shows no remorse. Be careful or more than my actions will be brought to light.”
Lucius made no response to that pathetic attempt to blackmail him. He flashed the old man a disgusted sneer before slamming open the door and storming down the stairs. Unfortunately, Andromeda followed quickly on his heels.
“I want the boys to come home with me,” she demanded, temper still hot, her cheeks flushed with rage. Her eyes glinted more blue/green than brown at the moment.
Lucius didn’t slow his pace or even turn to look at her, answering with a simple. “No.”
“Excuse me?” she snapped and boldly grabbed his arm.
Lucius spun to face her, his cloak flaring along the bottom, but his voice remained tightly controlled. “They will come home with me. The manor’s wards are more powerful and will provide a more secure environment. We will renegotiate when Harry regains consciousness.”
Andromeda had to concede that was true. She also didn’t expect Harry to be unconscious for more than a day or two. She could be patient. Compromising, she demanded, “They need to be seen by a real Healer as soon as possible.” Frowning, she added, “And where is my sister?”
Lucius ignored her question, but he agreed to summon their personal Healer. Andromeda didn’t bother asking after Narcissa again. Truth was she had no right to ask him anything unless it pertained to the safety and care of Harry. She was by no means a friend and barely an ally.
Madam Pomfrey directed them to a private room further down the Hospital Wing. Lucius entered first. They found Draco sitting with his back to the headboard, one foot set firmly on the floor, the other leg bent and hiding Harry’s upper body from view.
“Draco!” Andromeda rushed past Lucius as he stood still just inside the doorway. She wrapped Draco in an awkward hug, the boy not moving from his position. She pulled away but kept her hands on his shoulders. Lucius came to stand beside her. “Are you okay? What happened?”
“Dumbledore didn’t tell you?” Draco asked quietly. There was no warmth in his eyes upon seeing them. He casually propped his forearm on his bent knee. His hair had fallen from behind his ears and framed his face, but it did nothing to soften his expression.
Surprised by his unwelcoming demeanor, Andromeda’s hands fell to her sides. With no one else to turn to, she looked up at Lucius for help.
“Come. We are returning to the manor,” Lucius stated, feeling simple directives were best at this point.
Draco lifted an eyebrow. He made no move to get up.
Lucius stepped closer, forcing Andromeda to back up. He put his mouth near to Draco’s ear and whispered, “I must speak to you in private. Now. The vow demands it.”
When Lucius straightened, Draco gave a slow, close-mouth smile. He turned and dropped both legs to the floor and stood. “By all means. Lead the way.”
Lucius mirrored Draco’s cold smile and took Harry up into his arms. The boy was small and light. Lucius instinctively held him closer.
On the way back to the Headmaster’s office, Andromeda followed a single step behind them. Draco walked precisely at Lucius’s side, always within reach of Harry lying unconscious in Lucius’s arms. None of them spoke until they reached the gargoyle guarding the Headmaster’s Tower.
Andromeda pulled Draco to face her by a hand on his shoulder. “Owl me when Harry wakes,” she insisted, voice full of passion. “I won’t allow Dumbledore to get away with this.”
Draco shrugged, dislodging her hand, but his expression had softened. “I will.”
She had to be satisfied with that because Lucius had begun to climb the staircase and Draco had turned to follow close on his heels.
As alarming as Draco’s distant behavior was, she took great pleasure in watching Dumbledore watch with helpless resignation as Lucius and the boys flooed away without once acknowledging his presence. Not even the phoenix was able to lighten the heavy atmosphere.
“We’ll be in touch,” she promised her old Headmaster with sweet malevolence before stepping into the floo herself.
xXx
The bedroom was dark. Only a single candle flickered on the nightstand. Harry was tucked into bed and Draco stood next to it with Dobby beside him. Draco turned and crouched so that he could look directly into the elf’s big green eyes. Dobby trembled as Draco gently but firmly pinched his large, pointed ear.
“If he wakes or if anything changes in here, come to me immediately,” Draco ordered, staring hard into the elf’s eyes.
“Yes, young master Draco!” Dobby promised in a rush. “I will do it exactly as you say!”
“Good.” Draco released the elf and left the bedroom, shutting the door securely behind him.
He found Lucius standing with his back to the room, looking out one of the windows. Unlike the bedroom, the sitting room was brightly lit with a warm fire burning in the hearth. His hands were linked tightly at the small of his back, his cloak having been draped over the back of a love seat.
Lucius heard Draco come out of the bedroom, but he continued to stare out at the cold night until he heard Draco settle into the armchair behind him. He finally turned and came to sit on the love seat opposite his son. He almost felt numb, dreading this confession, but the Vow he’d made hung heavy and ominous over him, his life hanging in the balance.
Draco watched his father calmly with a stillness that set Lucius’s teeth on edge. Adrenaline dumped into Lucius’s veins. He was excruciatingly aware that this might be the last time he spoke to Draco for a long while. His boy was the definition of unforgiving.
“After studying the notes Lovegood left you, I made a connection to Hempo the Foul who lived in Ancient Greece around 600 B.C.E. He created a forbidden, Dark ritual that was intended to grant immortality. It essentially severed a piece of his soul and stored that piece in a vessel. He called it a Horcrux. Should he suffer a fatal injury, he could be resurrected due to his soul being anchored to this plane. Should the soul in his body somehow be destroyed, the soul piece in the vessel would awaken and could also be resurrected. However, as time went on, Hempo began to dissolve into madness. He eventually perished several hundred years after he performed the ritual, so the ritual was deemed a failure and was forbidden.”
Draco sat quietly, listening with great attention. He already knew where this was going.
“Before I left the Dark Lord’s ranks, before you were stolen, I was given something to guard, something the Dark Lord valued greatly. It was a book. A diary. I could feel the magic imbued in the item, but it didn’t have any words written inside, so I stored it away and forgot about it. I remembered the diary after reading about Horcruxes.
“As I feared, the book was a Horcrux, and because the Dark Lord is currently a Shade, the soul piece in the diary managed to awaken when I wrote upon the pages. I quickly realized that the soul inside was different from the Dark Lord’s, at least as I knew him. The soul held only the knowledge and personality up to the point of separation, that of the Dark Lord’s sixteen-year-old self. This personality informed me that he had not believed in Hempo’s warnings of insanity, instead blaming the failure on Hempo being weak-minded.”
Lucius took a deep breath. The room was dead silent except for the crackling of the fire. Draco sat completely unresponsive in front of him, which set Lucius even more on edge. This was going almost too well. It made his palms slick with sweat. “I believe the Dark Lord either intentionally or accidentally made Harry a partial Horcux and that is the Black core that Lovegood found in Harry. It is a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul grounding him to this plane.”
Draco’s head tilted forward, his hair falling softly around his face. “Can it be killed?”
“By all accounts, the vessels is destroyed along with the soul piece,” Lucius whispered apologetically.
Draco’s eyes flashed up at that and Lucius quickly raised his hand in a wait gesture.
“The transcript I possess recounts Hempo’s experiences before and after the Horcux ritual, but it does not give instructions on how to perform the ritual. I am still trying to track down more details. If we know the formula, there may be a way to alter it to transfer the soul piece to another vessel.”
“We can just ask the diary,” Draco pointed out, the beginnings of a frown tugging down his lips. “Obviously Voldemort knows how to do it since he made one.”
“The diary became evasive whenever I tried to get the specific details of the ritual from him,” Lucius admitted quietly.
Draco sat quietly for a long second, staring at his father with an increasingly distant expression. He had noticed the past tense in that sentence. With a dangerously quiet voice, Draco asked, “Where is the diary, Lucius?”
Closing his eyes, Lucius reached into the inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a thin black book. It looked faded and worn by time. There was nothing magical about it at all anymore. The pages were empty.
Draco accepted the book. He examined the plain black leather, the faded name of Tom Marvolo Riddle in gold on the back. He pressed his thumb to the pages and flipped them from one cover to the other. He got up and went to the small desk and opened it randomly to a center page. Lifting the quill, he wrote, Can you hear me? He waited a long beat, but nothing happened.
Lucius stared at his son’s back. Draco was so small still, but the will inside that body was fearsome. “Three years ago, I discovered the identity of the woman who kidnaped you. She was being detained in Azkaban prison for a different crime. I faked her death with a golem and secured her here in the basement.”
Draco turned to face his father. He leaned back against the desk, the edge digging into his back. He held the empty diary loosely in one hand.
“She was one of the Dark Lords closest followers. Her name is Bellatrix Black, your mother’s youngest sister. Not long after you departed for school, your mother discovered her sister’s presence. She took custody of Bellatrix and had her imprisoned in a guest apartment. When we returned from the Solstice, we discovered her missing.”
Draco said nothing. He merely watched as Lucius continued to dig his hole deeper.
Lucius felt his cheeks heat with the remnants of his rage. “It should have been impossible for her to escape this manor! The wards are ancient and strong, but after your kidnapping, I continued to build on them and tighten them.” His hand curled into a tight fist and it sat trembling on his thigh. “I couldn’t make sense of it. The only way it could have been remotely possible is if someone keyed to the wards helped her. Bellatrix and your mother always had a strange relationship, so I looked to her first. I found mental blocks in Narcissa’s mind and broke through them. As I had feared, Bellatrix had used the blood connection to your mother to manipulate the wards and escape.”
“What happened to the diary?” Draco demanded sharply, growing impatient.
Lucius’s back went ruler straight and he stared over his son’s shoulder. “I believe she used the power of the Solstice to pull the soul-shard into her own body in the beginnings of a resurrection ritual,” he admitted.
Cocking his head, Draco asked coldly, “Where’s Narcissa?”
Lucius swallowed, sweat prickling on his brow. “I do not know her exact location. I severed the magical bond between us to break her connection to the wards so that the manor could no longer be breached by the enemy. All I know is that she went after her sister with the intention of stopping the resurrection.”
Draco stared first at his father and then down at the empty, old book in his hand. It had once held the soul of the enemy. Now that enemy was working to be reborn, just like the monster they had fought in the dungeons of the school. On top of that, this new Voldemort was in the custody of the woman who kidnapped him. The woman whose hatred of all things Malfoy would have now reached epic proportions.
“Three years, huh?” he asked, almost absentmindedly, still staring at the black diary. “Did you cut her? Make her bleed?”
Lucius’s hands had gone numb. Tears inexplicably filled the corner of his eyes.
Draco looked up, fury written in broad strokes across his face. “The truth, Lucius. Tell me the fucking truth for once in your fucking life.”
Lucius sucked in a sharp breath and steeled himself. “Yes. I made her bleed.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. His mouth was a tight, tense line, his voice a hate-filled whisper. “Beat her?”
“Yes.”
“Burn her?”
Lucius was trembling now. “Yes.”
“Did you make her piss and shit herself?”
Lucius paled, whispering, “Yes.”
Draco stepped closer, eyes unblinking. “Did you fuck her?”
“No!” Lucius bellowed, honestly horrified.
Draco sneered. “What? You didn’t put your dick in her mouth and make her drink it all down? Or spread her ass and fuck her bloody?”
Panting, Lucius realized that he was standing. He stared down at Draco, nearly crazed with rage. “I would never touch that vile woman.”
Draco laughed, cruel and low. “Don’t fucking lie. You didn’t keep her for three years locked in your dungeon and not enjoy it, Lucius.” His silvered-eyes bore into him. “You may not have fucked her, but I bet you jacked off over her broken body. Splattered her with your cum. Or if not that, I bet you came up here and fucked Narcissa ’til she was dizzy after.”
Dark spots filled Lucius’s vision. Hearing what he’d done from Draco’s mouth… It made something twist inside him, made him feel revolted. “She took my son…” he gasped weakly.
“Don’t fucking lie to yourself! If it were really about me, you would have fucking killed her! Torn her apart and been done with it!” Draco screamed, eyes blazing. “But it wasn’t about me! It was about you! It was about your pleasure! Now there might be TWO fucking Voldemorts to deal with!”
With a scream of rage, Draco shoved Lucius hard in the chest, making him stumble back and sit clumsily on the couch. Before Lucius could recover his balance, Draco swung the empty diary around with all of his strength and hit Lucius across with cheek with a loud SMACK.
Lucius gaped, chest heaving in fast pants. The blow had stung, but he was shocked more by the sudden violence. Rage exploded through his chest and his arm jerked before he could still it, almost slapping Draco across the face.
“You disgust me,” Draco hissed, breathing almost as hard as his father. “Get out.”
Lucius didn’t move. He’d locked up, afraid moving an inch would mean he’d lash out at his son. His lips lifted from his teeth as he choked on a flood of angry words. We needed the knowledge stored in the pages! and She forfeited her life when she touched you! and You have no idea what I have done, what I will do for you! and How dare you, you ungrateful wretch!
“GET OUT!” Draco screamed at the top of his lungs.
Standing stiffly, rage making his cheeks hot, Lucius very purposefully said nothing. He yanked his cloak off the back of the love seat before storming out of the room. The door slammed behind him hard enough to make the painting hanging on the wall fall with a crash. The frame cracked with a sound like a gun going off.
Draco stood in the center of the sitting room choking back sobs of rage. His whole body shook. He couldn’t get his breath. He couldn’t even see straight he was so angry! “Dobby,” he gasped.
The elf appeared with a soft pop, eyes wide as saucers. “Yes, yo- …”
“Take me to London,” Draco interrupted, words bitten off, seeing nothing but red.
Dobby’s fingers shook as they very carefully curled around the shaking child’s upper arm. They disappeared with a much louder pop and appeared in an alley next to the Leaky Cauldron.
“Go back to Harry,” Draco growled. “Same rules.”
Dobby nodded frantically, but Draco didn’t see it. He was already off and running. He ran until his lungs screamed for air and the red flooding his vision was crowded out with black. He ran on instinct, stumbling on curbs, his shoulders clipping the edge of buildings and parked cars. Thankfully it was still really early and there weren’t that many drivers on the road, so he wasn’t killed during his wild dash across the streets.
When he collapsed an hour later against a brick wall, he was panting and heaving. The sky had brightened to the pale blue-grey of dawn. He realized that it was bitterly cold, searing his insides and his sweat nearly freeze against his skin. He felt raw, his nerves scraped and shredded.
The war loomed over him, a dark shadow with an empty, black vortex of a mouth, ready to swallow them whole. Draco had no idea if they could survive it. He was just a goddamn kid and everyone was the fucking enemy, but if he had to tear himself to shreds or rip apart the world, he’d do everything he could to protect Harry.
Harry, god he loved Harry, still so small and unsure, but so damned brave and determined, so selfless. Draco was going to do everything in his power to make sure his boy survived and if he failed, well… Draco smiled. It was the soft one that only Harry got to see and he curled around his legs, pulling them tight into his chest. He pressed his forehead to his knees. If he failed, well then he and Harry would go out together and leave this fucking shit show behind.
Chapter end.
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Freedom Bound in Chains