Renaissance

A/N: Thank you, Mamacita-san and refuz2luz for beta-reading! Remaining errors are all my own.



*First Samuel 2:9 VERY loosely paraphrased.



Warnings: Torture, graphic violence, distorted religious justifications, mentions of past physical and psychological abuse.

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18.



The Auror teams landed at the entrance of a craggy hillside cave, the sight of which filled Harry with a sense of deep foreboding. Brushing the unsettled feeling away, he admonished the teams to stay close and alert. “Who knows what we’ll find in there. But remember, we want Iscariot alive,” he said, the green glow of Lumos faintly lighting his face in shadow cast by the cave’s overhang. And that goes for me too: no reckless Gryffindorish heroics, and no loosing the beast!



“Tonks, take Bravo team to the left; Alpha team with me,” he directed a while later when the path split. The locator wasn’t working this far underground so they were forced to rely on only themselves. Harry’s magic was straining now, snapping and crackling around him like heat lightning.



“Harry, you all right?” Hetty whispered nervously when the smell of scorched ozone reached her nose. She looked over to find Harry sparking magic. “Settle down, yeah? Even if they are down this way we can’t just go rushing in—”



“Shh, d’you hear that?”



Indistinct murmuring was coming from up ahead. Harry tensed. This could be it. He motioned for Auror Downing to fall back and alert Bravo team to their position.



CRACK!



“Harry!” Hetty hissed too late. The young Auror was already powering down the rocky corridor toward the distinctive sound of leather striking flesh. The others could do nothing but follow.



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“You thought to confuse me, but I remember that the son of serpents is the father of lies. The deceiver. You thought to turn me from my path with your gilded forked tongue. You thought to test my resolve and make me doubt my faith.” Iscariot stepped back into the cavern and unfurled a menacing-looking whip from the implements on his table. He wound coils around his fist, pulling the leather taut between his hands.



Draco stood still and silent. Sie recognised the look of someone too far gone to be able to stop. The death gleam was in Iscariot’s eyes. Sie’d seen the look on the faces of kamikaze Death Eaters, ones so devoted to their purpose that death was the only acceptable end—their own or that of their prey, it did not matter which. Chained and wandless as sie was, Draco knew who must be the victor of this contest. So be it. Sie would not give Iscariot the satisfaction of breaking hir. Sie would not cry out or beg. Sie would stare death in the eye regretful (So very regretful. Sie spared a thought for all the milestones in Anna’s life sie would miss and the end of hir imagined life with Harry) but unafraid. With Anna and Harry’s faces fixed in hir mind’s eye, sie favoured hir captor with the most coolly derisive sneer sie could manage.



“You dare mock me?” Iscariot slammed the haft of the whip into Draco’s side, forcing the air from hir lungs in a wet whoosh. “I will triumph over you, daemon! As Christ was tempted in the desert I too have been swayed by falsehood to stray, and like our Lord I have seen through your deceit and remain true to course!” Iscariot dropped his left fist, the coils unravelled and he pulled his right arm back. “I will see you destroyed, hell fiend!



CRACK!



The whip whistled through the air and cracked so deeply across Draco’s chest that the breast band fell open. The sight of hir bloodied chest spurred Iscariot on. “See, the truth is revealed! You have corrupted his flesh!” he shouted, pointing with the haft at hir fully exposed breasts.



“Perversion!”



The whip snapped.



“Defiler!”



Another lash tore a fiery line around hir, cutting into hir back.



“ABOMINATION!”



Iscariot roared and let the whip fly.



Draco flinched. It would slice though hir face, take hir eye, sie realised in that split second, but sie did not look away.



“ISCARIOT!”



The blow did not land. Magic—thick, wild, powerful as the surf—rolled like thunder into the cavern. Draco couldn’t tell if hir inability to breathe was the fault of hir own abused lungs or if the magic had sucked all the air away. The only light now flickered eerily from the virulent yellow eyes of the Great Snake wound around the room, glinting off its obsidian scales. “Beautiful.” The word was a soundless whisper formed around bloodied lips, and awe was all Draco knew before sie lost consciousness.



Iscariot screamed and backed into his table. He dropped to his knees scrabbling for something he’d knocked over when it tipped on its side.



“Have you harmed my beloved?” Harry’s voice, a low sibilant hiss, echoed through the chamber.



Iscariot whipped his head back and forth, wildly scanning the room, desperately trying to locate the source of the disembodied voice. His fingers found purchase on the item he sought and he gave a triumphant cry as he held it aloft. “You have come for your servant, Lucifer, master of serpents, but you shall fail! He guards the faithful, but the wicked shall perish in the darkness!”* He shook the wooden crucifix in his white-knuckled fist. “The Lord shelters the righteous!”



“Then you are forsaken.”



His magic bore down on the trembling man, fangs flashing, eyes gleaming, to rend and destroy, hissing its glee.



“Harry, NO!” Hetty shouted as the basilisk tore into Iscariot, gouging his head and face.



Iscariot screamed and the serpent drew back to strike again.



“ENOUGH, Harry! Let him go!” Taking her life into her hands, Hetty yanked Harry around to face her and gulped, but did not loose her grip even as she took in his glowing green eyes and the darkness of his countenance. “You are an Auror, Harry Potter; sworn to serve the law and protect the people. It is not for you to decide his fate.” She shook him firmly. “There are others who deserve justice. Let them see it done,” she added softly, nodding as the shocking hue bled from her friend’s eyes. She held his shoulders and they stood, just breathing in time when with a flash the Basilisk vanished, the candles flared to life, and all returned to how it had been with the exception of the mass of quivering jelly on the floor of the cavern clutching at his face and neck, moaning as black blood oozed sluggishly through his fingers. Hetty tilted her head and looked her fellow Auror over. “Back with us, Harry?” she asked quietly.



He nodded and she turned to snap at the others gawping around the doorway. “Well don’t just stand there like a bunch of snot-nosed firsties! Secure the prisoner, begin collecting evidence—and for Merlin’s sake, you morons, someone help me get the hostage down!”



Harry’s head snapped over to Draco, still suspended from the ceiling. He sprang to action and guilt flooded him as the manacles snapped open and he levitated the ravaged mage into a supine position at the height of his waist. Sie was a mess. Deep, jagged wounds made by the whip and flogger caused blood to flow freely from hir arms, chest, and back. Hir brown woollen trousers bore sticky black streaks where the blood had run down hir torso in streams. Hir wrists and ankles were swollen; the shackles had cut and torn away the flesh, and the angry patches that remained were beyond raw. Hir shoulders jutted at awkward angles now they were free, and there was nary a spot on hir that wasn’t purple or blue from deep, painful-looking bruises. Draco’s chained to the effin’ ceiling and you’re playing cat-and-mouse with the nut job—good one, Harry. He was so busy castigating himself that he almost missed the approach of another Auror to his side.



“Mobili—”



“STOP! What the fu—” Harry snatched the young Auror’s wand out of his hand. The young man paled as Harry threw his wand back at him. “Damned greenwood,” he muttered, refocusing his attention on Draco and beginning an incantation to diagnose and stabilise the wounded, battlefield magic he’d once hoped he would never have use for again in peacetime, but which he’d called upon in more than a few occasions in the line of duty. “You don’t move your wounded ‘til you’ve assessed immediate threats to their survival, staunched the bleeding, and settled their magical fields,” the irritated Auror growled at the fresh-faced recruit when he’d finished his spellwork. “Otherwise you could further the damage and cause complications in later healings.” And Draco is in really bad shape if the quick scan is anything to go by; sie doesn’t have time for your mistakes. Harry pushed down the voice that whispered the triarii hadn’t had time for his interlude with Iscariot either, and he told Hetty she was in charge. “I’m taking Draco to St. Mungo’s. Don’t expect me back.”



“But the anti-Apparation wards—” She closed her mouth over the rest as Harry’s magic rose again, whipping around them in a whirlwind. The darkling Auror pushed and the room seemed to bend around them, expanding and contracting in a visible ripple of matter. With a loud crack he and the triarii mage were gone.



“Damned impressive, Harry,” Hetty murmured, then turned her attention back to the slack-jawed Aurors seemingly frozen around the room. “Back to work, people!” She leaned over a bit and toed the whimpering wreck that was very securely bound (by the look of the ropes, she’d say he’d been hit with at least five Incarcerous spells and an Immobulus) on the floor. “Judas Iscariot, also Jude Cariot, and other aliases unknown, you are under arrest for kidnapping and inflicting grievous bodily harm on Draco Malfoy; inflicting grievous bodily harm on Auror Ronald Weasley, Auror Seamus Finnegan, and Anderson agent Paul Anderson; the murders of Anderson agent Nickolas Thomas, Leslie Fambrough, Madison Thelwell, Taylor Ablyngton, Sidney Jeffcoate, Chris Calcraft, Cameron Davis, and Leslie Redbank.” She thought a moment then added, “Oh, and for burglarising Malfoy Manufacturing and the theft of the ghelshield device. By order of the Ministry of Magic you will be held until trial before the Wizengamot, where you or a representative may speak in your defence. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”



Once she’d advised him of the charges and cautioned him of his rights Hetty turned to the Auror who had been chastened for his near-use of Mobilicorpus. “Get him back to the Ministry. Interrogation Room 2, max security. We do this one by the book. I want four Aurors on him at all times, two on the interior. And get a mediwizard to dress his wounds. You, you, and you—” she pointed— “go with him.” By now Tonks’ team had arrived and Hetty drew from their number so her own team could continue gathering evidence. “Tonks, head back and inform Kingsley.” You’re going to rot in Azkaban, you pathetic little worm. Her grin was feral as the immobilised man floated by her. We got you.



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Harry was again pacing a groove in the floor when someone reached for his shoulder from behind. Reacting instinctively, the Auror ducked the hand and spun, his wand at the ready.



Blaise Zabini stepped back with widened eyes, his hands up before him. “Whoa! Should’ve known better than to come up on you like that, I reckon. My apologies, Potter.” He chuckled nervously.



Harry blew out his breath and stowed his wand in the holster strapped to his arm. “My fault,” he offered by way of apology. “I’m just a little...keyed up still.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and held out the other.



Blaise shook it readily. “No harm done.” He smiled faintly. “So how is sie?”



Harry jerked his chin at the closed door across the corridor. “No word yet. They’ve had all sorts coming and going from that room with all manner of equipment for the last two hours and I still can’t get anyone to tell me a bloody thing.” He folded his arms over his chest, the fingers clenching on his bicep.



Blaise took a breath and slowly reached for Harry’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. Draco’s strong and in good hands, I’m sure,” he said with a firm nod, though whether he was trying to convince himself or the Auror he wasn’t sure. “Draco’s come through worse.”



Harry raised a sceptical brow, then sighed. “Anna?”



“Pansy is at Hogwarts to collect her. Thanks for having Mark contact us. We were notified by the Ministry this morning, but it’s being kept very hush-hush; we hadn’t heard anything else until his call came in over the AudioFloo. Everyone’s been frantic, so we were all so relieved to hear it was over; but none of us wanted to panic Anna, so she’s been kept in the dark until now. Pans wanted to wait at least until the school day had finished. Now it’s a matter of waiting until Draco’s healed enough to receive visitors. I thought I’d check in with you first before letting her know when to bring Anna. I’m going to get Lars and Helene as soon as we’ve finished here, and Andromeda should be by soon, and Professor Lupin will accompany Anna and Pans.”



“Thank you. I know sie’d want hir family here. I just—I can’t think about all that right now. I just want to be in there with hir.” Harry shrugged helplessly, frustrated with his inability to do anything, to fix it all.



“It’s fine, Potter, really. Mark and Pans are old hands at this type of thing. Just leave the relay and rotations to them; they’ll handle it. You just worry about being here for Draco and Anna. They’re going to need you.” Blaise’s expression grew sorrowful. “It’s going to be especially hard on Anna, Potter. She’s afraid of hospital, with good reason,” he grumbled darkly. “And seeing Draco hurt may trigger some bad memories for her. She’ll need you to stay strong.”



Harry turned a questioning look on the family friend and waited. Blaise sighed. “You know her adoptive parents wanted to...alter her when she manifested Triarius? They had her in and out of hospital and various surgeons’ offices for months,” he continued when Harry nodded. “Consultations with strangers poking and prodding at her most intimate parts, talking over her head and detailing mutilations of her body in the guise of reconstructive operations. All the while those people,” he sneered, “calling her a freak, and employing all sorts of psychological abuse to make her compliant with their views. When it came out that Anna’s allergies and resistance made her a poor candidate for the operations her adoptive parents decided to ‘put her right’ on their own.



“She was tortured, Potter,” he said plainly. “Beaten and starved as part of a conditioning programme to never speak or think of herself as anything but an average girl. And when they felt they’d been successful they planned to...uh,” he lowered his voice, “remove any incongruous genitalia themselves.”



Harry turned faintly green. “They didn’t! Anna—”



“Is whole,” Blaise quickly assured him. He steeled himself for the rest; it never got easier, neither the telling nor the hearing. “They couldn’t use anaesthesia so they gagged her. At the first incision her magic fought back. It was early days yet for the Signatus grid but the surge knocked the whole thing down, brought an entire squad of Aurors running. They burst in to find a seven-year-old strapped down to the kitchen table screaming blue murder in a makeshift operating theatre...well, it didn’t take much to have the parents deemed unfit after that. The adoption was dissolved and Anna was removed to the fostering system.”



Harry sagged against the wall. “Tell me they’re in prison,” he rasped, grey-faced and trembling.



“First offence—heavy fines, magical monitoring, probation, and they’re banned from ever adopting again, naturally.” Blaise snorted, setting himself beside the wall as well, unobtrusively offering his support.



Nausea rose in Harry as he tried to process his disgust and growing anger. How anyone could do that to any child...but Anna? The sweet-faced angel with her bright grey eyes and sparkling laughter, who gave the best hugs and lovely kisses? He swallowed convulsively, trying hard not to vomit. Anna was...well, she had claimed Harry every bit as much as her vamar; that someone would hurt her in any way was—but that? He wanted to go track down her adoptive parents and.... Feeling his magic begin to crackle, Harry forced himself away from those thoughts; there’d been enough of his magic manifesting vengeance for one day, and it hadn’t made him feel better. In fact it had delayed Draco’s much-needed treatment. He was needed here, present in all senses, not half out of his mind plotting retribution against people he’d never meet, not wresting his magic back under control because he’d again lost sight of what was most important. Coming back to himself, Harry found Blaise had taken a few steps away and was staring at him oddly.



“All right there, Potter?” He cleared his throat nervously. “You were...uh....”



“Happens sometimes when I get really, truly angry,” Harry said dully, brushing off the inquiry. He could tell Blaise wanted to know more, but their relationship was one of new acquaintance, not nearly close enough to warrant the whys and wherefores. “So this conditioning is why she can only speak of herself as a girl?” Harry asked, wanting to redirect Blaise’s attention away from his minor episode.



“Yes. Makes me wish for some of that sparking anger magic you had going, actually.”



So much for steering him away from my anger management issues.



“She’s working with a therapist on it. May take a few years yet, but she’s making progress.” He flashed Harry a brief, proud smile. “She’s a fighter, like her vamar.” He waved at the closed treatment room door. “And now you see why this’ll be so hard for her? She doesn’t show it often, but she’s still so afraid of being hurt for her difference; it breaks her heart that others have been. She was a wreck over what happened to the Cameron gyrl, and it’ll be worse because it’s Draco this time.”



Harry did understand and his thoughts drifted back to the cave and Hetty’s admonishment that others deserved to see justice done. She was right, of course; not only the victims’ families and friends, but other triarii who have been living in fear. And Anna needs it...she needs to see that his reign of terror is over. Nothing is going to change overnight, but a few will learn from Iscariot’s example, see what intolerance and rigid insistence on sameness can become. Maybe seeing the spectrum’s extreme end will keep others from embracing any shade of that intolerance. And at least this is one monster in the night I’ve stopped. My girl’s a little safer tonight, and I can be proud of that.



“...her, but sie does what sie can.”



The Auror blinked at his companion. “I’m sorry, wandered off for a moment—you were saying?”



“Oh—just that Anna’s experience, while extreme, is not so unique, unfortunately. It’s another reason, or maybe the underlying reason, why Draco works so hard at Heritage Foundation’s success and a return to some of the older attitudes about certain things. Triarii were respected once, you know. Manifesting Triarius was something to be proud of, not hide or try to change. It’s only been in the last sixty or seventy years that attitudes have shifted.”



About the time Dumbledore started on his grand experiment. Great men who sometimes make great mistakes indeed, old man.



Harry wiped a hand over his face. At least in learning about Anna in more detail and the atrocities she’d survived he’d been too occupied to spend each second fretting over Draco’s condition. He wondered if the man beside him had done it on purpose.



Probably; he’s a Slytherin too, remember.



“Auror Potter?” A Healer in blood-stained robes stepped from Draco’s treatment room, clipboard in hand and looking toward the two men. “Is one of you Auror Potter?”



“I am.” Harry pushed off the wall. “How is sie?”



The Healer smiled gently at his anxious tone. “Mer. Malfoy will make a full recovery, I’m glad to say. Sie will remain our guest for a few days yet; sie was in very bad shape,” she added seriously. Consulting the chart, she rattled off the list. “Sie sustained three broken ribs, a punctured and collapsed lung, numerous deep lacerated welts, and a ruptured spleen that caused severe internal bleeding, along with deep tissue bruising over a large area of hir body, a hairline fracture in hir left cheek, and the damage to hir shoulders—” the Healer tutted— “torn tendons and ligaments.



“We performed surgery to remove the spleen, and the bleeding vessels have been cauterised. The lung was repaired and inflated. Mer. Malfoy is on an extensive potions regimen including Skele-Gro to repair the fractured bones, but will experience some discomfort as they mend. Hir ribs will be especially tender, as the fractures were exacerbated by repetitive trauma. The lacerations, both the welts to hir torso and the abraded cuts caused by the restraints around the wrists and ankles, have been healed. We will continue treating these areas with salves that will reduce the residual inflammation and address bruising and scarring. We were fairly certain the marks left by the whipping would scar but we attempted a new spell and salve combination that has healed the areas more cleanly than we could have hoped; we now believe Mer. Malfoy will suffer no lasting aesthetic changes.



“The bruising we will also continue to treat with salves; Mer. Malfoy will experience stiffness as those areas heal. Lastly, the potions regimen I mentioned also includes regenerative agents for the nerve damage cause by exposure to Cruciatus, and anti-coagulants that specifically target the blot clots in the bursa of Mer. Malfoy\'s shoulders. Both shoulders show circulatory damage from being held so long over hir head; however, the torn tendons and ligaments are being regrown or reknitted, and the bursa should be clear of clots in a day or two. Mer. Malfoy will experience no restrictions in circulation or movement once the healing is complete. Sie will, however, need to remain immobilised while that healing takes place.



“But really, gentlemen, aside from an increased susceptibility to bacterial infection—particularly pneumonia, sepsis, and meningitis, as Mer. Malfoy’s immune system has been compromised due to the splenectomy—there will be no lasting evidence of hir mistreatment during hir abduction. Sie will need to be careful around sick people and during flu season and hir primary Healer should also schedule the additional immunisations sie will need to remain healthy. However, there is no indication at this point that sie will lead anything other than a very long and healthy life. After what sie has just survived I’d say sie is a very fortunate mage.”



“Thank you, Healer, that’s very good news. One thing—may sie have visitors? Hir daughter, for one, will be anxious to see hir.”



The Healer nodded at Blaise. “Yes, in about an hour. Give us time to clear out of the room and get hir settled. And then only two at a time in twenty-minute intervals. It’s unlikely sie’ll wake before tomorrow. Sie was heavily sedated for the procedures, but sie needs hir rest; the potions and healing magic must be given time and a quiet, low-stress environment to work fully.”



“That’s fine. I just—we just,” Harry corrected himself with a nod to Blaise, “need to see hir; know for ourselves that sie’s going to be all right.”



“Of course. I’ll send an orderly to bring you in when we’re ready.” She patted each man’s arm and returned to the room.



As the door snicked shut behind her Blaise turned to Harry. “Well, thank Merlin for that.” He favoured the other man with a huge smile of relief. “I’ll call Pans and let her know where things stand. If I know my wife she’ll have Anna here in an hour precisely. Helene’s probably been baking up a storm and driving Lars mad with her worry, so I’d best fetch them now. We’ll return as soon as we can. Don’t worry about anything, Harry. We’ll handle it from here.”



“Thanks again, Blaise.” Harry clasped the other man’s shoulder.



Blaise smiled, met the gesture and raised it, firmly setting both hands on Harry’s arms. “No, thank you,” he said, meeting the tired green eyes with a depth of gratitude that humbled the Auror. “Draco’s been my best friend since we were eleven years old, Potter. Sie’s closer to me than a sibling. And for months I’ve been worried out of my mind that sie was going to die; despite the lip service paid by the Ministry wanks we knew few really cared. And if it’d been anyone else...well, no one but you would’ve gone so far or done so much. Sie wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you. Other Aurors would have brought the killer in eventually, but Draco’s life wouldn’t have been a priority. You brought hir back to us; I’ll never be able to repay you for that.”



Uncomfortable with the show of emotion, Harry shook his head. “I wasn’t. I’m nothing special, Zabini. I just...love hir. I couldn’t do anything else.”



Full lips slid into a sly smile. “I know, and I’m thankful for that too. Sie deserves someone who loves hir that much.” He squeezed and let the Auror go.



“You know, Potter,” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed to the lifts, “you think you’re nothing special because love motivated you beyond the letter of your duty—but I think you’d have done the same for anyone that someone loved. It’s how we knew we could count on you to end this mess. You love enough for all of us. It makes a difference.”









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Triarii-specific Terminology:

Vamar: Parent, usually shortened to vama, or vam

Veru: Triarii spouse





Chapter 17 Review Responses

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