Redemption of a Snake

The redemption of a Snake


Chapter 3: Preludes to disaster


Tuesday, July the 5th

The first thing he noticed was the comfortable mattress that he reposed on. His body was lying relaxed under the light beams of a dying sun. Draco blinked to correct his fuzzy vision. He was… in Hogwarts’ infirmary. What had happened? He recalled stealing Voldemort’s wand, attempting to break it, an act that had failed by the way. After that, his memories were blurry. He remembered some scenes. He had then gone to Olivander’s for a wand. No, it was stupid. It was a month ago. Why would he have returned there? It surely had been a dream. There also were… dinners in the Great Hall and speeches with Dumbledore… It felt strange.

Draco turned his head toward the door when he heard it opening. From the corridor entered his mother, who stopped at the threshold when seeing him awake. ‘Why such a surprise?’ wondered Draco. ‘Have I been out for so long?’ What was she doing here by the way? Why were they in Hogwarts? They should be in Malfoy Manor, shouldn’t they? And…

Narcissa ran to the bed and hugged her son tightly.

“Where’s dad?” he croaked. His voice was rasp; he needed to drink. He looked at his mother. He ought to have some problems in the head. He saw her twenty years younger. He couldn’t have gone into the past, could he?

“He’s well, don’t worry,” she answered, eyes shining.

Draco nodded in comprehension. He tried to escape his mother’s arms, his head hurt and he had to lie back down on the bed. Finally resting on the pillow, he pressed his thumbs on his temples then glanced at Narcissa again. Draco smiled. His sight was back to normal, and she looked like as he remembered.

The door opened again and a handful of people entered the infirmary. Draco immediately turned to the person who interested him. Lucius approached the bed and eyed his son. For a time, he seemed to waver, then bent on Draco and clasped him in his arms. The boy sighed deeply. It felt good. He had never considered himself as weak or particularly tender, but after so many adventures, to have his father strong again at his side was reassuring.

Glancing from beneath Lucius’ shoulder, he noted the others present. Snape and Lupin were there. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey too but this was negligible. Draco inhaled softly. They had succeeded. They had understood his messages. Yet…

“But… How is it that you are walking freely?” he asked his father.

Lucius rolled his eyes in exasperation. This was obviously the question he didn’t like. Draco looked at Snape with wonder: the man was smirking all he could. Lucius’ unease rejoiced him. The boy whirled back to his father, eyes enlarged by surprise. Then he chuckled. Maybe the headmaster was better than he thought. Maybe he deserved some esteem, if he could protect Lucius despite their enmity.

“That means he can stay?” he asked Dumbledore avidly, eyes sparkling.

Dumbledore smiled and nodded. Draco laughed genuinely and earnestly. After a strange year, everything was back to normal. His father was free, safe and sound; his mother could stop spying, and himself would go back in peace to his potions.

-

Flashback

Dumbledore was sitting in his office, wondering how many days would pass till they received the authorisations for Ben Levis. He was musing on Narcissa’s role in her son’s disappearance. Hadn’t she suspected something? Hadn’t Draco already thought of his plan when he was still in Malfoy Manor? Why hadn’t she forced Draco to assist at his father’s burial? She could have, for she was his legal tutor. But she had only insisted, and in private. It was almost as if she had come to Hogwarts only to talk to him. What had they been talking about when they were alone? Had it really been about what they affirmed it had been?

Dumbledore concentrated his reasoning on this piece of information. He had missed something important; it was forced. What could they have talked about? Lucius? Could it be that Narcissa had known from the beginning? That she had been helping Draco? But then why did he spread the rumour that he hated her?

The headmaster’s jaw dropped. “How could I be so blind?” he cursed out loud. Of course Draco had said he hated her! He was openly defying Voldemort, and secretly the Ministry. This way, they would all think of her as an ally when she was the contrary!

Moreover, she had declared she had never been aware of Lucius being a death-eater; that was because he wasn’t anymore! Draco had managed to find the anti-Morsmordre potion; surely he had applied it on his father’s mark already! And it had to be her that had discovered Severus’ denunciation! Did she know where her son and husband were hidden?

Dumbledore went to the fireplace and cast floo-powder in it. He met an elf and asked for Narcissa. When she appeared on the other side of the magical connection…

“We need to talk about your son’s belongings,” he simply said. Narcissa wouldn’t discuss Draco in her own house if she could be spared it, or so he hoped. The aurors had to be spying on her continually, and it ought to work out her nerves.

After hesitation, to Dumbledore’s relief, she accepted and some seconds later, was in his office. True to his habits, he offered tea and lemon drops.

“Well, what is bothering you with Draco?” she inquired.

“Truly, many things.”

Her eyebrows raised and Dumbledore suspiciously wondered an instant what it was.

“First, I’d like to know if he is safe. Second, his location would be much appreciated. And third, your place in this bothers me.”

She stopped moving at all, not being used to such crudeness from him. Fighting for her coldness back, she hissed: “If I knew where Draco was, he’d be home already, punished as he should be for making me worry so. And regarding my place in this,” she sneered, “I could wonder what, or rather who, made him flee from Hogwarts…”

Dumbledore frowned. The woman was smart and left him no choice. He eyed her directly, plunging his mind in hers, searching for answers.

“You have no right!” she shrieked, feeling her spirit invaded. But Dumbledore didn’t waver and searched deeper.

# In the meeting room, three days before Lucius’ burial.

“I need you to have him drink that,” divulged Draco in a hushed tone, entrusting her with a vial.

“What for?” inquired Narcissa, eyeing the door so that no one would surprise them.

“It’s too complicated to explain now, but it’s important. Everything would fail if not.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she promised.

# At the burial, Narcissa searching for an opening in the aurors’ and death-eaters’ supervising, and failing. Lucius was buried before she could have him drink the potion.

# When Draco escaped Hogwarts and hid in Malfoy Manor.

“Watch him, I have something to do,” the boy ordered, talking about his father.

“Draco!” called back Narcissa, “there are aurors everywhere! They’ll see you!”

“No, where I’m going, I assure you there’s no-one.”

She tried to stop him and ask more about it, but he was already out.

# Some hours later

Draco trudged back in the secret room, pale as a ghost, his hands dirtied and bleeding. His hair fell in his eyes, hiding their redness. He was trembling.

“What did you do?” she cried out, running to her son.

He looked at her, then turned to his father to verify he was well. But at the sight, Draco stiffened and lurched to the bathroom. He explained nothing and disappeared with Lucius soon after.

# The following days

Narcissa received many letters from her son, statements of Lucius’ reestablishment. She sent others back, telling of what she heard of at the Ministry or in Voldemort’s inner circle.

Narcissa growled in anger at her mind’s invasion, while Dumbledore pondered what he had just seen. As he had thought, she had known of her son’s activities from the beginning.

“Where is he, Narcissa?” he asked kindly.

“I don’t know! Hear it?” she broke, “If I knew, he wouldn’t be hiding but at home! But he isn’t! He had to imitate Lucius and work alone!”

“Narcissa,” he attempted to calm, “You know that I would have helped him when we went to the Manor. Why didn’t you ask?”

The woman hesitated. “He thinks there’s a traitor among the aurors,” she finally revealed. “Someone very near you, that denounced Severus and him.”

He hummed, “I thought it had been a death-eater.” Snape had betrayed the dark lord; it would have been logical for him to take revenge.

“No, Voldemort wants him alive for other purposes. The aurors would have killed him. No one would have complained, as he was a former death-eater. That he had been a spy for you didn’t count.”

“Other purposes?”

“Yes, he… he asked Draco to join him and to put aside their differences. Draco would destroy his potion, and in exchange, he would accept both him and Lucius back, forgiving everything… Draco refused.”

Dumbledore frowned, “Why? It seemed a good opportunity to him?” The Malfoys had always been dark supporters. If Voldemort offered them amnesty, it seemed strange that they refused.

“Because Voldemort would have asked for a proof of allegiance… He would have asked for Severus’s head. And Draco would never kill him.”

It was indeed strange the way this boy had evolved. He had taken both the good sides of his parents after all. Lucius’s intelligence and Narcissa’s fidelity. They’re lucky that it wasn’t the inverse way… Dumbledore had been right: if Voldemort thought that Draco hated his mother, he wouldn’t harm her to retrieve her son. The same went for the aurors. The Malfoy junior had tricked everyone well.

End of Flash-Back

-

Draco rested more in the Infirmary. His body had been immobile for more than a month, and his legs had difficulties to regain their mobility. Two more days ought to be necessary before he could go back to Malfoy Manor. Or so he had thought… He had omitted that he had missed the last month of school, and needed to pass all the tests that the sixth years had done during his absence. When hearing such bad news, Draco flinched visibly, till…

“Fine!” he accepted with good grace. “May I use the lab while I’m here?” he asked with a faked innocent smile to his ears.

“No!” yelled Snape instantly.

Draco pouted. “Why? I could help you develop the Wolfsbane…” he insisted with big puppy eyes. “Please?”

Severus grumbled, hesitating. Draco had saved his life with a potion. One more debt. He hated debts, the previous one had ruined his last twenty years and put him in a coma for months… If he could get rid of this one quickly, it could only be a improvement. “Don’t be late…” he only muttered before disappearing in the corridor.

“Yes!!!!” hissed the boy, body tensed by pleasure.

Dumbledore hummed, “And your exams?” he recalled.

“Oh, I’ll pass them this afternoon,” he affirmed with conviction.

Dumbledore’s eyes glittered and he walked out. He just had to be present when Draco learned of this extra session that had been created for the sixth years in preparation for the NEWTS…

-

Draco bent over his parchment, pondering on what he could invent to complete the required length of four feet. Four feet! And on Transfiguration! The subject he abhorred the most. For months he had to fake indifference and endure stoically his numerous detentions. How many objects or repulsing animals had he turned back then? And he still HAD to remain locked in this classroom for a test he didn’t care about! Indeed, of what use would transfiguration be of to him? He had only two choices of career: to take care of the many Malfoy properties or to become potions master. There was no place for morphing!

Draco grunted and plunged his quill in his inkpot. Snape ought to already be working in his lab… without waiting for him, of course! He would pay for that… Draco smirked. This would be easier than more things he had to do. The professor was eager to know about the anti-Morsmordre potion’s recipe. Well, he would be patient!

“No, not this way,” Professor McGonagall corrected.

Draco frowned and whirled his head toward the voice. Why was she here!? He still had half an hour to complete his work! She couldn’t come and harass him in between, could she?

But the teacher wasn’t interested in him and was lecturing a… a first year!?… What was this boy doing here? And… Draco had been alone in the class! When had they entered? It was completely mad... He rubbed his eyes and looked again. The classroom was deserted. Where had they gone now?

“I’m becoming as insane as the old batty…” he muttered while going back to his copy.

After half an hour, punctual, McGonagall entered the class to retrieve his work. Draco fled the place and ran toward the lab. When he opened the door, fumes exited and the boy recognised the Wolfsbane’s base. He coughed in order to inform Snape of his intrusion. Not that he would stay long: at that point of the potion, nothing could be done for two days, for it had to boil and reduce. He sighed and sat on a stool in a corner of the room. Some minutes later, as Draco had predicted, Snape cast a spell on the cauldron to keep it at constant temperature, then rinsed his hands and joined him.

“I have questions,” the man said.

Draco concurred in the interrogatory. “What do you want to know?” he asked with good graces.

Snape led him in his apartments and served them tea. Draco estimated the man passed too much time with the headmaster. Insanity was contagious and apparently obsession with tea also was. He risked catching it if he stayed too long in Hogwarts.

“So?” he inquired again as they sat.

Snape pondered some seconds which question he would begin by. “When you came to see me in the Infirmary, what were you searching for?” This had bothered him for months. Had he unconsciously contributed to Draco’s exploits? What had been the reason behind this sudden attention?

Draco smirked. “We’re Slytherins, aren’t we, professor? In every one of our acts, there’s always an interest to gain…”

The Potions master frowned, stressed. What had the boy done? Had he obliviated him? Spied on him for Voldemort in exchange for time? Tested a poison? A curse?

Draco sipped his tea and observed the moving of the liquid in his cup. He swept a lock of hair from his face and eyed his teacher from below lowered eyelids. “Do people really think of us this way, professor? Do you?”

Snape remained silent. What was Draco trying to say? Of course the world saw them this way, it was a Slytherins’ nature to have confidence only in himself. Wasn’t it?

Draco raised a sad face. “We do have confidence in some people. We simply need time to develop it. Don’t you trust Dumbledore? Well, it just happens that I care about you. I wanted to see if you were fine.” The boy was fingering his cup as he made his confession.

‘You can trust no-one, no-one, it always turns into betrayal!”

Draco frowned. He also heard voices now… He brushed aside the sentence with a wave of the mind.

Severus stared at the boy. Truly? There had been nothing behind it? Nothing at all but real kindness? Snape suddenly felt bad, both at what he considered a Gryffindorish show from Draco and his own lack of confidence in the boy. Hadn’t he saved his life? By the way… “If it wasn’t to give us hints of where to find you, would you have sent the potion?” The vial, which had contained the anti-Morsmordre potion, had been the first indication in their search of Draco and his father. From what Snape had studied of the potions drop remnants, a common one would have been enough to transport it. So Draco had chosen it on purpose to lead them to Malfoy Manor.

“You don’t trust me at all, do you?” the boy gently accused. “Dumbledore wouldn’t have been able to protect you long from the Ministry. The fierce defence of a former death-eater, even a spy for the light, would have caused too strong a blow to his side. You would have been sent to Azkaban and died within days. I couldn’t let that happen. Who would have prevented the imbeciles from winning the cup?” he smiled.

Draco had been told by Madame Pomfrey that Snape’s feasting then anger had completely destroyed every chance of Gryffindor and Slytherin to win the House Cup. Caught in his concern for Draco, Lupin hadn’t countered the devastation. Being told about the last events, McGonagall had done nothing either. As Snape didn’t like Ravenclaw much either, Hufflepuff had won for the first time in twenty years. Draco had been stricken by the news. When he couldn’t fight to take away the cup from the reds, they didn’t win. When he didn’t try to have them punished for things they hadn’t done, they were abandoned to Snape’s fury for a thing they weren’t responsible for. Effectively, when in Salazar’s experiment lab, the Trio couldn’t have known he wasn’t going to hex the triplet of teachers. They had reacted the best way in the situation. But the professors’ anger had exceeded their usual justice – except for Snape that never had any. What world were they living in, pondered Draco? Maybe he ought to try loosing the House Cup in the upcoming year… He apparently had more chances to win it this way…

Snape smirked. Yes, he had done a great job this last month. He was proud of it. And somewhere, he was proud of Draco too, of his decisions and achievements. He recalled what he had needed to see the wrongs in his younger behaviour. Those were horrible memories that he refused to forget: they would indefinitely prevent him from going back to Voldemort.

The Malfoy boy had taken risks few would have even considered. To defy the Ministry and Voldemort, to come against his father’s ideology in his face. And for that, Snape thanked Merlin. If it had been another Slytherin child… Many other death-eaters didn’t consider their family so highly. Severus wondered how Lucius had first reacted when hearing about Draco’s choices.

What Draco had said to convince his father, Snape didn’t know. A sure thing was that the man had been won over. When they had penetrated the crypt, Lucius had just escaped the Death Curse, thanks to Draco. Then it was the explosion. Voldemort had noticed Dumbledore. He had then retrieved his wand and fled the Malfoy lands with his death eaters. But aurors had been attracted by the men’s presence. A flick of Dumbledore’s hand had made dark arts’ books and potions disappear. He had then made a wonderful accusing speech at how arresting Lucius Malfoy had been an enormous error. The man had been imperioed; he wasn’t even a death-eater! Snape had been indignant at it. Malfoy was guilty! But he had bitten the bullet stoically: if his father were sent back to Azkaban, Draco would take more risks to retrieve him again. And for the moment, the boy had needed attention. The aurors had searched for a mark on the Malfoys. There was none. “How did he escape from Azkaban?” retorted the officials. It was very simple: Voldemort had taken him out, so that he would convince Draco to become a death-eater, a thing that the boy had refused, causing his rapt. And now, the headmaster had Lucius’ debt. The man ought to be sulking…

About this battle, there was a lesson Dumbledore had explained to the Slytherin in the Infirmary. From the moment someone possesses his wand, the piece of wood is trained by its use. The more powerful the proprietary is, the more powerful the wand can become. When one breaks a wand, the magic it contains disperses in a blow. And Voldemort is very powerful… Draco had fainted because of the shock between the dark lord’s magic and his own. His had been drained, causing his long sleep.

Severus looked at the boy in front of him, a slight smile on his lips. Yes, he was proud. Despite all expectation, Draco had finally turned into a very fine young man. He blinked and remembered he still had many questions to ask.

“How did you penetrate Azkaban?” he inquired. Dumbledore hadn’t explained yet to Draco the importance that this could have for them. The boy was still alone with his secret.

Draco smirked. He never answered.

-

Thursday, August the 4th

A month had passed. Harry had been taken back from his aunt and uncle and now lived at Twelve Grimmauld Place. His friends had joined him there, along with a part of the Weasley family and the Order. Draco had gone back to Malfoy Manor.

Lucius had integrated the Order. This was the official version. The true one was: Lucius had been forced into joining by his debt to Dumbledore and the fact that he no longer had a choice in his side in the war, and the members had been forced into accepting him by their respect for Dumbledore. Despite their hatred of Malfoy, they all had to recognised that, as former right hand of Voldemort, he was the best qualified to bring him down. And when no one was looking at him, Dumbledore beamed in his beard. This was such a sweet revenge on the man…

What had astonished the Order the most were Draco’s actions. Why hadn’t he simply gone to Voldemort and asked for help? Dumbledore had then strangely eyed Severus and his eyes gleamed. “It appears that your sacrifice for Harry had some other good points than only ‘saving the brat that rot your life’ as you said.”

All frowned. How was that? They were aware that only the protection Snape provided Harry had caused his being discovered as a spy, but how could it have influenced the young Malfoy?

Lucius had growled, “Draco didn’t want to kill you, got it?”

Severus had frozen in his seat. Of course Voldemort was impatient of his ex-supporters’ death, but thanks to the school’s protections, only a resident of Hogwarts could. If Draco had joined him, his first mission would have been to poison his professor… Snape had wondered how many times Draco had really saved him…

Remus never missed an opportunity to ask how the boy was. He was a Gryffindor and liked to have the people he cared for underhand. They could have problems far away and he wouldn’t be there for them. Such a subject pissed off Lucius and reminded him of the very little control he now had on his son. Draco was constantly buried in his private lab, concocting Merlin only knew what… that’s to say, when he wasn’t out.

“He went back to Azkaban,” grumbled the high lord. Dumbledore tilted and the audience jumped.

“But… what for?” inquired Remus. He was sure that Dumbledore hadn’t talked to Draco yet. They had projected to wait for the beginning of the school year for that, when Draco would be in security in Hogwarts.

“He wants to study the virus, he said. As if his remedy wasn’t good enough…”

Let’s say that Lucius didn’t appreciate the part that his son would play in the war. If he were discovered in Azkaban, it would be immediate death.

“He didn’t get caught?” asked Harry, sceptical.

“You think I’d be here if he had?” retorted Lucius. Along with their care for Draco, the sole common point of Snape and Malfoy was that they couldn’t bear the Potter child. For the rest, they were worse than harpies in fury.

“Did he find what he searched for?” queried Dumbledore.

“It seems so, for he locked himself in the lab, ordering not to be disrupted.”

Snape smirked. Apparently, Lucius now accepted every caprice of his son. For the beginning of term, Draco would be as rottenly spoiled as before… He would have to be punished some time in order to counter this bad behaviour of a rich little boy.

Soon, the reunion came to an end and each went back to his affairs for the adults, games for the children. Remus was part of the group that went back to Hogwarts, not that he lived there during the holidays, but because the imminent night was of a full moon and he needed to spend it hidden in the Shrieking Shack. Those particular days, they always had supper sooner than usual, so that he would have eaten when liberating the wolf. After dining in the company of the remaining teachers, Remus headed toward his transformation place. He closed the plant behind him and proceeded in undressing.

But no sooner had he removed his clothes that he heard the moving of the Willow. Unsure of whom it could be, he quickly put back on his robes and looked at the entrance. A blonde head peaked out from behind the corner, noticed the professor and penetrated the cave.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here,” Draco said, “Didn’t know if there was a place for you in Black Manor…”

Remus smiled. It had been a month since his last encounter with the boy, and even then, he had been in the Infirmary, surrounded by his parents; and the second in exam, pressed to join Snape in his lab. Black Manor… That reminded Lupin that Draco hadn’t been told about Grimmauld Place and wasn’t even aware of the Order’s existence. Lucius had never revealed much to his son, and Dumbledore considered they ought to leave him the holidays before he had to make a choice: to openly fight Voldemort or to remain as neutral as he could. For despite every action of these last months, Draco had never contradicted with the dark lord’s opinions. He had merely defended those he cared for. Should Harry be in danger, would he move to help him? Probably not. Lucius had been forced into his choice, but Draco still had to make his.

“How are you, Mr. Malfoy?” he asked kindly. He had approximately ten minutes left before his morphing. A conversation could put them to good use.

At the question, Draco suddenly lost all his countenance and stared fixedly at the floor. There he noticed that his professor had no shoes. He frowned and turned his head toward a corner, where he saw the lying shoes, shirt and trousers. He blushed and turned 180 degrees, to face the wall. “Sorry. You may go on,” he invited with an uneasy tone.

Lupin laughed softly. He had no intention of finishing undressing or morphing with Draco here. Thanks to Snape’s potion, he had some power over the wolf, but it wouldn’t suffice to keep it from attacking the boy. No, the sole company that could venture near him was that of an animagus. And Draco certainly wasn’t.

“What brought you here, Mr Malfoy?” he inquired.

“Well…” Draco hesitated. Remus could feel the hotness of the boy’s cheeks from feet away. “I… I wanted to thank you… Professor Lupin.”

The man gaped. Had he heard well? He had been called by his name! Except from an error due to sickness, this was the first time that Draco used it. It surely was a particular day! More: he had been thanked, an event extremely rare coming from a Slytherin. He smiled again. “You’re welcome. I’m glad to see you’re fine. I heard you went back to Azkaban.”

“Oh… I did. Not that I risked much, the aurors are too stupid to discover how I enter… I wanted to see if there still was someone alive in there, other than the jailers…”

Remus was impressed. If it went on this way, Dumbledore wouldn’t even have to ask Draco about it. “And was there?”

“Yes, some. Not much, but enough. I dispersed the antidote in the corridors…” he revealed.

Remus chuckled. Oh, the Ministry wouldn’t like that. “That doesn’t tell me why you are here,” he remembered.

“I thought you could enjoy the company. And I wanted to bring you this.” He took a vial out of his robes’ interior pocket and twisted his arm backwards so that Lupin could grasp it without the boy seeing too much of him.

“I am still dressed,” advised the professor, amused. Nodding, Draco slowly turned and presented the vial again. “What is it?” inquired Remus.

“A development of professor Snape’s ideas. We worked on it this month, but I wasn’t sure it could be finished by tonight.” Draco went on: “It should prevent any influence of the wolf’s mind and let you master your full control capacities… I still have no idea how to prevent the morphing and… Well, this way I can stay with you tonight.”

“No!” Remus suddenly yelled, starting the boy, “This is dangerous!”

Draco frowned. “Don’t you have faith in my potions?”

Remus cringed at the accusation in the voice. “Yes, of course I do,” he made up for it, “but if there’s a problem, I don’t know what… It’s dangerous, that’s all.”

Oh no, not this cunning look! For a moment, Lupin had forgotten that Draco was a Slytherin. “And how will you make me?” Draco asked stiffly, “Your wand…” He went to the lying trousers and retrieved the tool in it. “…is here.”

“You’re…” Remus was flabbergasted at the child’s dare. “Draco! You will stay out of here!”

“Or what? You’ll refuse to drink the potion? You’d really kill me then.”

Remus’ breath hitched in his throat. “How… You…” He pursed his lips, defeated. He had nothing to force the boy out. Abandoning the fight, he ported the vial to his lips and drank. Draco smirked in victory. “But if there’s anything,” warned Remus, “You run out of here! Heard it?”

“Yep!” the boy smiled broadly.

“And if…” Lupin flinched. He was morphing. Dizziness was taking him and he staggered. His breath was going out short and rasp.

“Your robes!” said Draco. The professor had kept them on him, the wolf would panic and it would strangle him. But Remus’ head was blurry, his senses increasing and new sensations invading his mind. Draco ran the distance that separated him from Lupin and opened the robe as the human gave way to the animal. The wolf was bigger than he had imagined and he took some steps back in surprise and dread. Had the potion worked? The animal didn’t appear dangerous or menacing…

A long cry echoed in the cave and Draco sighed in relief. The wolf approached him and rubbed against his legs.

“I said I’d keep you company, didn’t I? So… I don’t know what you usually do… You want to go outside?” Draco felt stupid to talk to a wolf. Could Lupin understand him, now that he wasn’t human anymore? Apparently yes, for the wolf conducted him to the Willow and waited for the boy to open, his tail balancing in saccades. As the weather was particularly hot, Draco removed his robe and left it next to Lupin’s clothes.

When they were out, Remus ran in the woods and soon disappeared from view.

“Were… Lupin!” Draco called back. The wolf wasn’t supposed to wander the outside! But he came back as suddenly, a rod tightly clutched in the powerful jaw, and deposited it at Draco’s feet. “What?” The boy eyed successively the wolf and the rod. What was he to do with that thing? Lupin pushed the rod more in his direction and Draco took it from the floor. The wolf took some steps back and clenched its muscles.

Draco looked completely lost. Despaired, the wolf jumped, hoping something would tilt in the boy’s head. “But what do you… oh… ah, ok…” And Draco hurled the rod. In a dash, the wolf ran after it and brought it back. They went this way for half an hour, and Draco thought: ‘Of course he was to become enraged some times; locked up in that cave when he could have fun outside… What were they thinking to keep him in there?’ But he was quick to forget that there had been a time when he praised such actions against werewolves.

Draco sighed. The wolf was so quick that the rod hadn’t the time to touch the ground before it was already caught. Smirking, the boy took out his wand and enchanted it. “This way… We’ll have more fun…” He threw it again. As usual, the wolf ran its way, jumped… and missed it. He looked in awe at the piece of wood that remained stuck in the air, one metre above the Earth, some steps away from him. Hesitantly, the wolf advanced toward the rod and smelled it. It seemed normal. But when Remus went to bit into it, the thing escaped the grasp with ease. He growled at it and jumped but the moving rod was quicker. Excited, the wolf ran after it in circles, always approaching it to touch but never enough to catch it.

After a long time, sweating, Remus went back to Draco and lied down at his feet. The boy smiled at his victory and accioed the rod back. At the spell’s name, the wolf’s ears quivered. It eyed the wand with care and, as Draco was going to stow it in his interior pocket, Remus grasped it and ran.

“Hey!” Draco complained. “That’s my wand!”

But as an answer, the wolf whirled over and stared at him, malice in his golden eyes.

“Fine!” accepted Draco, “You want to play this game…” He searched for Remus’ wand in his pocket, then remembered that he had left it in his robe, inside the cave. He marched to it, but the rapid wolf cut his way, his tail balancing swiftly.

They observed one another for a time and suddenly, Draco launched on the wolf… only to crash on the floor.

“Ouch…” He massaged his sides. The wolf was sitting some meters away, the gleam of fun never quitting him. “I’ll catch you… Even if it takes me the night, I’ll catch you…”

-

Wednesday, August the 5th

The door to Dumbledore’s office opened brutally and banged the wall.

“Albus!” called Madame Pomfrey, followed by a calm Severus, “Is Remus here?”

The headmaster raised his head from the Ministry’s papers he was examining and considered the question. “No. Didn’t he come to see you?”

“He didn’t, that is what I’m astonished at. Usually, he would have passed by the Infirmary an hour ago.”

Dumbledore hummed. “Maybe; did he go directly to Grimmauld?” He cast floo-powder in the fireplace and met with Molly, who had a pack of the same powder in hand.

“Professor!” she almost shouted in surprise. “I was just about to call you because Remus still isn’t here, and he had said yesterday that he wouldn’t remain long in Hogwarts after his transformation.”

Behind her, many worried faces could be seen, among them: her husband, Hermione and Mad-Eye Moody that was to have a meeting with Arthur Weasley in the morning. The others still were sleeping for, despite the already raised sun, it was still early in the morning.

“Come then,” advised Dumbledore. “We’re going to the Shack.” The old man was frowning. The previous day, he had felt Draco entering Hogwarts and directing toward the Whomping Willow. He hadn’t given it much attention since Draco already was aware of Remus’ nature. Had there been a problem anyway?

They all headed to the Shrieking Shack and penetrated it. There was no one. In a corner, clothes were scattered on the floor. Molly recognised Remus’, alongside with robes she didn’t know. In them was Lupin’s wand.

“Could he have been surprised by death-eaters?” inquired Moody darkly.

“No,” calmed Dumbledore, “The robes and wand wouldn’t have been let here.” Besides, the cloth was of the finest material and ought to cost a lot. It had to be Draco’s. But then, where were they? Had they gone out? Had Remus escaped during the night? Dumbledore didn’t complain with the wolf exiting this place, he rather feared for his safety. Were-wolves weren’t given chances: if one was seen, it was killed. Still, he wasn’t much stressed: he believed that he would have felt it, had one of them been in danger.

Unseen, the headmaster cast a minor spell on the place and followed the magical trace of Draco and Remus out. They marched a minute, reached the woods, and at the border, they saw the boy, leaning against a tree. Remus was lying naked on the floor, his head resting on Draco’s lap. Dumbledore smiled. Surely had they gone out, had fallen asleep and had been surprised by the day without having realised it yet. He took one more step toward them and cast a cloth-covering spell on Remus, just as Moody took out his wand and petrified Draco.

“Mad-Eye!” reproached Madame Pomfrey, “I know you don’t like his father, but it isn’t a reason to hex him, particularly in his sleep!”

“Maybe, but THIS is!” The man bent on Draco and grasped his left arm, raising and exposing it to everyone’s view. The dark mark was burning on it.

-

Draco awoke in a room, watched by many people that looked at him with surprise, disdain or anger. He tried to move, but found himself restrained by magical bonds. At that moment, Dumbledore entered with Remus. The professor immediately went to the bed, his face torn with dolour and sadness. He looked at Draco, as the boy didn’t move, whether because he didn’t understand at all or understood too well.

“Draco, tell them this is all madness,” almost begged Remus.

“What is madness?” asked Draco back.

“This mark!” shouted Lupin, “You didn’t have it yesterday! Who put it on you?”

“Oh… The mark…” Draco seemed to remember, “Yes, I had it then.” At Remus’ bewildered and horrified face, he smirked. “What did you think, professor: that I had become good all of a sudden?”

Farther away, the tight group that formed the Weasley parents, Hermione and Mad-Eye eyed the scene with mixed feelings. It was true that they hadn’t seen Draco for the two past months, but had he changed to the point of associating with their enemy? This enemy, which he had protected some of them from? None of them could remember Draco’s arm from before. Had there already been a mark? Mrs. Weasley regarded the boy and his arm with disgust. A death-eater had almost been accepted into their inner circle, putting them all in danger. The presence of Lucius Malfoy already tarnished them enough…

Despite the situation, the auror beamed: he had been right. From the moment Malfoy had come to help them at the Order, he had often counselled Dumbledore to use Veritaserum on the entire family. The headmaster had refused every time. And here were the results. Hopefully, the boy hadn’t known about the Order. The others were sceptical: they had given Draco a chance; he had refused it. The Malfoys was a rotten family. Talking about the Malfoys…

Lucius stormed in the room, run after by Snape who had been entrusted with calling the man. Malfoy charged to the bed and wrung Draco’s arm so that he could see the mark clearly. “What is that?” he asked accusingly.

“That?” repeated the boy, smirking still, “But it is the dark mark of Voldemort. Aren’t you proud, daddy?” he insisted on the last word with amusement.

“Since when?” inquired the man, fuming, and twisting the smaller arm with a force engendered by anger.

“Oh, not that long. It’s pretty recent. More exactly, it dates from one of these days when you hadn’t the lesser idea of where your own son was. But after all, my lord and master said it: he knows more of me than you ever did or will.”

The slap echoed in the complete room and when Lucius’ hand retired, Draco’s cheek still bore the red mark of his father’s fingers.

“Stop that!” ordered Lupin, authoritative as he rarely was. “This is completely absurd! This mark wasn’t there yesterday; I could swear it. Severus, he told me you had worked with him on the Wolfsbane recently. Had he got it yet?”

Snape frowned. “I haven’t heard of him for the past month…” he revealed.

All eyed Draco once more. The boy had never stopped smirking all through the exchanges. Remus went back to the bed and sat next Draco, extended the arm and massaged his cheek. “I don’t think you faked it yesterday, for I would have scented it. What are you trying to accomplish, Draco?” he inquired softly.

The audience didn’t know what ‘yesterday’ referred to. Only Dumbledore had been informed of the night’s events. The potion was perfect; it had allowed Remus to conserve his total capacities of reflection, without destroying the wolf’s instincts.

“I don’t know. Ask the traitor, maybe will he have an idea.”

Two persons in the room could be qualified of traitors: they were Lucius and Severus. Considering that Draco had already talked with his father, he surely mentioned the later. Remus turned to the Potions Master, who had a lost face. The presence of this mark on his student’s arm was deceiving.

“No idea?” went on Draco, “Maybe you, Dumbledore?”

The old man faced the child intensively. One could have thought that he was searching the boy’s mind but he wasn’t. They simply looked at each other. And Dumbledore was thinking as quickly as his intelligent mind could. Draco hadn’t been a death-eater a month ago. During this month, he had remained in Hogwarts for some days and worked with Severus in his lab. After that, he had disappeared. Then he came back, spent a night in a wolf’s company and was suddenly revealed as a servant of Voldemort. But Draco was far from stupid. There were two possibilities: whether Draco had taken no willing part in his marking and was currently used by Voldemort, or he had desired to be marked and now wanted everyone to know it. Why then? He could very well have remained a precious spy to his master in the school.

Dumbledore’s eyes gleamed sadly. “This is an important lesson you just gave me, Draco. I shall remember it and beware of whom I trust from now on.” And he retired in a shadowed corner of the room, letting the others wonder. What had he said? That Draco had definitely betrayed them.

Mad-Eye advanced on Draco, his wand ready. “Draco Malfoy,” he began, ‘I arrest you for joining the ranks of Voldemort.”

‘See?’ hissed a voice, ‘You did nothing, you hurt no one, you just have this mark on your arm and they arrest you. Is this right?’

“No way!” cut through Lucius’ dark voice. “The day you arrest my son is the day you go to Hell.”

Mad-Eye raged. “Malfoy, you get out of my way, or I shall arrest you along with him. This won’t be difficult. You’re not much more than a released death-eater!” he spat with venom.

The two men stopped moving and the room became silent, none of them deciding to abandon. Behind Lucius, Draco sighed profoundly and addressed Snape, “Don’t you remember what our last discussion was about, professor?”

And Snape tried to remember… Far away in his mind, a month ago… Draco had come to his chambers; they had talked about… trust… “We do have confidence in some people. We simply need time to develop it,” Draco had then said… Farther away: “He sent specifically the vial to you, Severus, because you are one of the very few that practices both potion art and dark magic, and for he trusts you,” had been an idea of Dumbledore… Even farther away: “How do you expect him to trust you if you don’t at least have a little faith in him?” Remus had accused…

‘Are you testing me, boy?’ asked Severus’ mind to Draco’s eyes. And the blue orbs were sad for the Potions Master had failed a second time.

Snape sighed in mirror of Draco. He took Remus’ previous place on the bed and eyed the arm. “How do you take it away?” he inquired.

“On my wrist, you can feel it if you pass a finger,” explained Draco.

Severus did as he was told and passed his index on the lithe wrist and found what he had been searching for. His nails clawed the skin and tore a band of it away. Draco cried out as Hermione closed her eyes at the spectacle.

“Ha! Not so brutally! That hurts!” the young Slytherin complained harshly.

“Maybe you will learn not to make stupid tricks again,” bit back Snape. In his hand, he was crushing the shred of flesh, but on Draco’s arm, apart from redness, there was no trace of a wound.

Lucius reached the thing and grasped it from the professor’s hand. He opened it wide. It was a very thin cloth or piece of flesh, and on it had been appended Voldemort’s mark. He swirled to his son in fury. “You imbecile! Try that again and you’re disowned!”

“Of course…” drawled Draco.

“Maybe,” Dumbledore reminded to everyone that he still was present, “Severus, you could let him loose?” he proposed.

Snape grunted, clearly considering that the boy ought to remain locked for some days as a way of punishment. When he was free, Draco massaged his sore hands and feet.

“Well…” he said as he got up, “Finally… In case you’re interested, I’m now aware of whom I can trust and whom I cannot. Your scores are not beautiful to the least.” And he exited the room.

-

Half angry, half sad, Draco made his way into the corridors. Of all persons, the only ones that had deeply believed that he would never join the dark lord had been Lupin and Dumbledore. A werewolf and a senile Gryffindor. His father had defended him, though… But how could he ever imagine that his son would join a man that wanted to kill him? And Snape… The Potions master had done nothing to stop Mad-Eye. He’d been disgusted by the sight of the mark, horrified that Draco could serve Voldemort. But what had the man done for twenty years?! And he dared reproach it?!

Of course it had all been a test, for Draco wanted to study the action of the mark on the body and spirit of his bearer, but their reactions were instructive. The boy had expected his professor to try protecting him, or accept his choice, not to… remain frozen.

Draco passed the exterior door and headed for the forest path. Maybe walking to Hogsmeade would be enough to calm him. He’d never thought that a simple reaction, or rather lack of reaction, from Snape could affect him so. He was a Slytherin; he didn’t care what people thought of him. Did he? He cursed out loud. He had been sure of it: stupidity was contagious; he was turning into a Gryffindor.

Draco stopped suddenly and looked around him. He was at Hogwarts’ border. Why was there a teenage boy leaning against a tree? It was the Holidays; students were supposed to be away. He was an exception and planned to remedy the situation quickly, but for now, the presence of this boy disturbed him. Draco took some more steps toward him and observed him.

It was the first time that Draco came upon the teenager. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be sleeping. He was dressed in Hogwarts’ uniform and bore the head boy’s insignia. It was strange. Weren’t the head boy and girl chosen just a week before the beginning of term? Besides, Draco truly didn’t recognise him, and the professors couldn’t choose a transfer student for that post! Moreover, the head boy would be Potter; it was forced; so that the Gryffindor Golden boy could add this to his curriculum. It will look beautiful on his grave.

Feeling the look over him, the boy redressed his head in a rush and stared at Draco. His hair was dishevelled and his eyes lost, surprised, distressed and happy at the same time. They observed one another, judging each other. After a more attentive exam, the teenager reminded Draco of someone, but the resemblance with this particular person rather unnerved him. The boy reminded him of Potter.

“Who are you?” Draco asked to break the silence. He was in a hurry to leave Hogwarts, but such a strange event couldn’t was curious, and he was a curious child by nature.

The black eyes of the teenager enlarged with astonishment. “You can see me?” he murmured.

Draco sighed. What had he been thinking? A strange event and Potter not here to see it… It couldn’t be so good… Draco had to discover an imbecile. “Of course I can see you. You’re not transparent!”

The boy didn’t listen and was still staring at him, his mouth slightly gaped. He seemed relieved. He got up and advanced toward Draco, who hesitated into taking a step back. He didn’t know who this intruder was; it could get dangerous. But the boy only extended the arm and touched Draco’s.

“I can touch you…”

There was strong emotion in the voice, and Draco decided that maybe there was something interesting in that boy’s existence. “So, you can touch me, and? Many people can touch me without burning to ashes.”

The boy grasped Draco’s arm tightly and gripped it till he felt pain. His eyes didn’t show any of the emotions they did before. They were angry and bestial.

“Hey!” growled Draco “Let me loose!”

“You will not talk to me this way, understood, Malfoy?!” the boy hissed.

Draco froze in place. He knew his name! How stupid had he been? A lone boy at Hogwarts’ border, someone he didn’t know and he ran to him! When so many people wished his death, he played the imbecile! Draco took out his wand in a dash and sent the boy flying, then ran to Hogsmeade.

“No! Wait! Come back! Malfoy! You come back! I order you to come back! Malfoy!” the boy was screaming, hysteric.

But Draco didn’t turn back. He arrived at Hogsmeade’s common fireplace, tired and sweating, and traversed it. Finally in his room, he stopped to catch his failing breath; exhausted, he dropped on his bed. He couldn’t remember running so fast in his life. Who had the boy been? A Polyjuiced auror or a death-eater?

In a daze, Draco heard his door opening and turned his head to see who was the newcomer. It was his father. Lucius was angry, probably at Draco’s performance earlier on, but his son’s appearance soon changed his mind.

“What happened?” he asked, slightly unwanted worry piercing through his voice. As he admitted easily enough, he was concerned over his son’s security. This new alliance that had been forced upon him wasn’t less dangerous that it had been to serve Voldemort. On the contrary. And what with Draco’s new independence, Lucius deeply feared for his son’s safety.

“Nothing important,” growled the boy who turned his head so that he didn’t look at his father anymore.

Lucius’ blood boiled. It was the third time this day that Draco disrespected him. If the child imagined he could behave as he desired, he was dreaming. Lucius marched to the bed and grasped his arm, before staring at it. The paleness of it brought out the red print of fingers. It hadn’t been there when in Hogwarts’ room!

“Who did that?” he inquired, this time truly worried.

Draco sighed and eyed his father. “A guy at Hogwarts. I had never seen him. He didn’t seem too dangerous though. He had no wand.” Or so Draco suspected. If he had, the teenager could have tried stopping him from running, but he hadn’t, that means that he couldn’t.

“Inside Hogwarts?” repeated Lucius, eyebrows frowned. Shouldn’t Dumbledore feel it if an enemy penetrated the school’s grounds?

“Well… not really… we were at the border,” admitted Draco. He was at fault there. He was aware of the danger outside; he should have used the school’s floo-network rather than walk to Hogsmeade. But he had been angry at the time and hadn’t thought accordingly of prudence.

Lucius nodded. He would have to warn Dumbledore that Hogwarts’ wards were lacking strength. But this thought was put aside as he noticed another red tint on his son’s skin. The boy’s cheek still bore the mark of his father’s slap. Lucius sighed. Draco’s skin tone was too pale for a boy of his age and during this season. He wouldn’t be allowed near the lab for days, till he had spent enough time outside under the sun.

“Draco, I want an explanation.”

Draco contracted. He had sensed it coming… “I wanted to know how it felt to constantly bear someone’s mark on your arm.” He sadly eyed his father. “You really thought that I would join Him, after He had tried to kill you?”

Lucius thought to avoid the inquisitive look but fought not to. “I didn’t put it over you…”

“But why? How could you think that?! I… I saved you from Him! This would be stupid…”

“You’ll remember that opposing Him was a stupid thing to do from the beginning,” Lucius recalled.

Draco looked at the floor. It was right that he’d been adventurous on this… “How can I know when I’m doing well, if you don’t trust me to do well?”

Lucius sighed again. What right did he have to reproach Draco’s errors that he himself had done? To join the dark lord hadn’t been a better idea… The man was mad, even if they shared the same view on mudbloods. If Draco hadn’t acted like a Gryffindor, Lucius would be dead now. “I trust you, and you did well enough when I was away. Just don’t play with my heart again…” Azkaban, his illness and the month hidden in a crypt then joining Dumbledore and his cronies had rendered it slightly weak. If Draco began playing such tricks on them, it wouldn’t resist.

Draco smiled. “Promise.” And Lucius was reassured.

Then the man remembered that he hadn’t commented on Draco’s horrible quidditch’s results. Not that he could, given the state the boy had been in. Lucius had been told by Dumbledore how taking care of a dying man, working for his classes and bewaring not to be attacked by his roommates had exhausted his son. “And if you went outside to play quidditch?” he proposed.

Draco shrugged. He’d prefer going to his lab and testing a new version of the Wolfsbane.

Lucius saw the annoyed face of his son and smirked. Despite Voldemort’s sayings, he knew how to handle the boy. “I’m playing with you,” he added.

Draco’s eyes lightened. “Truly?” he eagerly verified.

“Truly.”

“I’m searching for the brooms!” and Draco ran out of his room, forgetting his tiredness.

-

The holidays ended quickly. For the first time in seven years, Draco had done his homework without reluctance.
Along with Potions, work had allowed him to forget that he wouldn’t be able to play quidditch during the upcoming year. His father had forbidden it. Draco understood the reason, even if it broke his heart nonetheless. The past year, Voldemort had wanted his potion and services; now he wanted his head. And while in the air, Draco would be very vulnerable. It would be too dangerous.

At the exact hour, Draco was facing the Hogwarts Express. He got in swiftly and chose an empty compartment then buried himself in his new book. To an outsider, the book was of potions, as demonstrated the cover. To Draco, it wasn’t at all. He had found this one inside the crypt long ago and had hidden it from his parents, for they would have taken it from him. It was relations of his great grandfather’s experiences with daemons. It narrated how to invoke little devils that worked under your orders. It was highly dark arts that many had forgotten even existed.

The book was pretty interesting, even if erased at some places by time and humidity. A pity that no one practised anymore, or Draco would have taken much pleasure into conversing with him or her. This theory of underworlds was fascinating.

Before he knew it, they had arrived. Draco took a carriage in company of four Ravenclaws. They went to ask him about where he had gone at the end of the past year, but the death glare he sent them stopped any further chat. What with the Slytherins, he would have enough in his hands for the time being, no need to explain the other houses that he possessed the way to save their enemies from justice…

The feast was boring to the core, but Draco never came to notice it. All his attention was fixed on his housemates, on their every move. They were sending daggers at him, expressing clearly their intentions. Only in the eyes of lower years’ students did he see some wonder. All weren’t aware of the past months’ events, just that Draco had to be erased from the battlefield. But why? What had he done to warrant such rage and hatred from the dark lord?

As Draco went to the dungeon, he passed by Dumbledore. What was the old man doing here? Draco sighed. If the headmaster imagined there still was someone to believe he wandered randomly in the castle, he was deeply wrong. Or maybe Gryffindors… Slytherins had long understood that when Dumbledore was somewhere, then something important had to happen there. Mostly, this something was bad for them…

“How were your Holidays, Mr Malfoy?” asked the headmaster nicely, opening the conversation.

“Tolerable.” Draco had no intention of giving in to the old man’s game, whatever it was. He may have saved his father, but he remained an insufferable Gryffindor.

“You may have noticed that we didn’t name the head boy and girl tonight,” Dumbledore went on.

Draco’s head tilted. Indeed? He hadn’t given the announcements attention. “And?”

“We thought long on it. By ‘we’, I mean the staff. You proved to have matured last year and to possess important capacities of reflection. Would you…”

But before Dumbledore could finish his sentence, Draco cut through. “No.”

The headmaster’s eyebrows slightly hooked. “Are you certain?”

Draco eyed Dumbledore with care. “Do I look like I’m joking? No, I’m not interested in the head boy post. Why don’t you go and ask Potter? He’d be delighted.”

This time, it was real surprise. “Boy, I’m trying not to play favouritism here!” Dumbledore commented playfully.

“You said I matured. Then I matured enough to know that I don’t care about your head badge. I have better things to do.”

Dumbledore smiled. The more Draco grew, the more he was distinguishing himself from Lucius. “Fine then. Still, rooms have been prepared for you. If you wish to go on with your researches, you…”

“No to either,” Draco cut in again. “I’ll send an elf to take back my belongings.”

Dumbledore slightly coughed, “You are aware, Draco, that this year could be very dangerous for you.”

“I am. But I’ll remain in the dungeons.” The tone was strict and decided. The boy wouldn’t change his mind.

The headmaster sighed. He had vaguely wondered what Draco would choose: his security or Salazar’s laboratory. Foolish of him to doubt: the Slytherins were known for their ambition. At that point, who cared about safety? Dumbledore observed Draco as the boy’s form disappeared in the corridors’ shadows. He was curious as to what the child would invent this time. He seemed interested by the Wolfsbane, but these many months of work hadn’t given any convincing result. Surely he would now decide to concentrate on something else.

There was also the Azkaban matter. The headmaster had no idea of how many prisoners still were alive in there. But he knew that one couldn’t expect good work from a forced Slytherin. Draco would gain nothing but danger out of this affair, so Dumbledore needed more cards in his hands before he could tell the boy about the Order and their plans.

Lucius had told him about this strange story: there had been an unknown teenager in Hogwarts. Had Draco had visions? Was it a new ghost? Or something else?

-

Draco entered the Slytherin common room and immediately spotted a bunch of them. It wouldn’t do any good to be attacked there. The only one that could intervene in time was Snape and he’d be stoned too. Draco quickened his steps and went to his dorm. Nott and Zabini were his two roommates, for Crabbe and Goyle had departed for Durmstrang. Zabini was fine and remained as neutral as he could in the raging war, but Nott was the son of death-eater and soon to be servant of Voldemort. He was the dangerous one.

Draco showered and directly went to his bed, closed the curtains, and placed a repelling curse on it. He didn’t want to wake up cold as the dead in the morning and had no intention of becoming a ghost. He was too tired to read tonight, placed his head on the pillow, closed his eyes and… opened them back in a dash.

He swirled to his side and caught his wand to point it on the newcomer. The teenager hadn’t moved. He was sitting on the end of the bed. But he hadn’t been there when Draco had wanted to sleep. Only an intuition had allowed him to feel his presence. Even now… Draco lit his wand’s tip and looked more attentively. No, he wasn’t sitting on the bed… he was standing on the floor and his body went through the bed…

“A ghost…” sighed Draco in astonishment. But then… “How is it that I can touch you?”

The teenager smirked. “That is exactly what I was wondering during our last encounter.”

Draco frowned. “And your conclusion?”

“I don’t know. I spent fifty years alone, imagine my surprise when I discovered that you could see me… and more, touch me! I am a spirit, not quite a ghost but not quite a soul either… So, what do you have that is so special that you can do what no one can?”

“If only I knew… Well, as much as I am interested by this conversation, I’m really tired and I’d like to sleep…” As the teenager didn’t move from the bed, Draco went on, “That means I want to be alone,” he insisted.

The dark-haired young one sighed. “Fine! I have all the time to elucidate this problem.”

The teenager went to depart and Draco already had his head back on his pillow when a question invaded his brain. “Hey! What’s your name?”

The spirit smiled and answered “Tom, Tom Riddle.”

.

End of Chapter 3