The Echoes Of Yesterday

The Echoes Of Yesterday…..by Samayel

Chapter 4: When The Walls Come Down


Dumbledore‘s portrait was taking a nap at the moment, and Harry was almost glad of it. Normally he enjoyed the meetings with the image of his old mentor as much as possible, but today just wasn’t one of those days. Prewett had told MacGonagall everything, suddenly assuming that Harry’s condition was a bit more serious than he had guessed, and when Harry finally came back around, Minerva had quietly asked him to join her in her office. Minerva was currently finishing a Firecall that was unrelated to Harry’s problems, and the time to wait only wore on Harry’s nerves.

It was just impossible. He couldn’t deal with this…not and quit drinking at the same time. Actually, not at any time! It was Draco’s bloody son! It was uncomfortably like staring into the Mirror Of Erised, except that Harry saw both his dreams and his nightmares at the same time. The very notion of working closely with the heir of the Malfoy family was ludicrous. He’d have to tell Minerva something. Fifteen years of secrets, and they were quickly crashing down around his ears in a single day! Footsteps were coming his way, and it meant that Minerva was on her way back. Harry crushed his eyes shut and blurted out an apology.

“I’m sorry. Terribly. Headmistress, I really didn’t mean for this to…”

Minerva interrupted him with a surprisingly warm tone.

“We aren’t here to discuss that, Harry. It isn’t that I don’t care…I most certainly do, but Master Prewett tells me that the two of you have worked out a course of treatment already. Harry…you are not the first or only teacher at this institution to develop a problem of this nature, and you won’t be the last. As long as you work with Master Prewett to help yourself, you have nothing but my complete support…as well as my admiration, and you‘ve had both of those as long as I‘ve known you. What I want to talk to you about is young master Malfoy, though the subject appears to distress you. That’s why I thought a measure of privacy might be appropriate. Do you think you can handle this subject now?”

“Yes…I mean no…I mean…oh, hell. It’s a sore subject. I’m not sure I can handle this, Minerva. In fact, I’m hoping you’ll reconsider this entire matter and see about getting someone else for this. Just…not him. I can’t teach him. I just can’t.”

Minerva MacGonagall straightened her bifocals, then fixed Harry with a serious gaze.

“You might feel differently after I tell you a few of the things I’ve found out. Harry, it is my concern, and the concern of the Ministry’s, that that young man is a possible Dark Lord in the making.”

Harry shook his head in confusion. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear from Minerva this morning. Nerve rattling discussions of his past and personal life…yes, but the assertion that Draco’s heir might be unutterably evil? An already confusing day had just taken a turn for the surreal.

“You can’t be serious! He’s just a boy. Barely an adult by wizarding and Muggle standards alike. Why on earth would anyone suspect something like that?”

“I’m deadly serious, Harry. After the war ended, the Ministry and Wizengamot enacted a process of screening and information gathering, with the intention of discreetly monitoring certain people that exhibit traits similar to those of past evildoers. The profiles and histories of all known and recorded Dark Lords were studied carefully, and that information is used to weigh whether a ‘rising star’ should be watched or not. Draco Lucius Malfoy, the new Lord Malfoy, exhibits the classic signs of a Dark power in the making. He is highly secretive, extremely competitive, and overwhelmingly gifted in all of his classes.

The records from Durmstrang indicate that he showed a remarkable aptitude for dueling, potion making, curses, hexes and jinxes, a complete disregard for authority that got him punished regularly, and a near total contempt for his fellow students. He had no friends that anyone could find, no relationships that might suggest normal interpersonal skills, and he is reputedly as spoiled and as insolent as ever his father was. It was his choice to come here and study Defense Against The Dark Arts with you as his mentor. We have every reason to believe that, once he is certain he has mastered every aspect of that subject and has no equal in skill, he will attempt something out of a reckless need to accomplish what others could not. This may not be anything unlawful, but skill like his does not often rest in silence. I only consented to his coming here because he needs to be placed under close watch, and his every move should be observed until we can ascertain his true goals. This is why I want you to mentor him. Now do you understand what we’re dealing with?”

Harry couldn’t do more than occasionally open and close his mouth.

‘That cuts it. I must have gone stark, barking mad. I’m nutters in a white room somewhere at a nice hospital, and this is what I’m dreaming. It just can’t be real.’

“I see the cat’s got your tongue now, has it? I know it’s a bit much to take in all at once, but rest assured, there’s no one in a better position to keep a proper eye on our guest than you. I know it all sounds quite dire and grim, but there’s no absolute reason to believe the young man really is a danger. It is essential that we observe his progress and behavior…that is all. If you can bring him out of that disdainful shell he seems to be in and make him feel a bit more at home here, well that would be good too. He doesn’t strike me as being any worse than his father ever was. More driven and disciplined perhaps, but not evil. It all remains to be seen…and you’ll be seeing to just that.”

“Minerva, I’m begging you. Don’t ask this of me. Master Prewett and I sorted things out…but I have…problems with this. Other problems. I swear to you it’s very personal, and I’d really, really rather not talk about it, but if there’s no other way to convince you that I can’t do this…then tell me so, and I’ll try to help you understand my refusal. I would do anything for you or this school…but I can’t…I can’t do this.”

Minerva MacGonagall set her jaw. Harry was very dear to her, but this was becoming a bit trying. The intractable young lord wanted Harry, and would simply leave and do who only knew what without Harry Potter as his mentor. The situation was decided, and it was just a matter of getting Harry to accept that fact.

“Harry…there’s no need to violate your privacy over this…my answer remains the same no matter what your explanation may be. I expect this of you, not merely as an administrator, but as a friend and mentor as well. Avoiding something difficult or unpleasant will not resolve anything. If you feel you might be uncharitable to the boy because he’s the son of someone who got along quite poorly with you in school, think of Severus all those years ago and try to do a bit better. I believe in you, Harry. Even if you don’t.”

His hands were trembling. He looked down at them and saw them actually trembling. His heart was thundering in his ears, and his vision was blurry. Harry gave a short hysterical little laugh as his mind took in Minerva’a words.

“Ha! Hahaha! You…you think I…I hated him! Heh! You don’t understand anything! Mmm…uhh…oh gods…”

Harry began to hyperventilate, forcing words out slowly while Minerva was pulling her wand to prepare for another fainting spell on Harry’s part.

“Minerva…you…you don’t get it. Draco…after Hogwarts…at Grimmauld Place. He wasn’t my enemy. He…he was…my lover.”

Minerva dropped her wand in shock, while Harry slid to his knees and wept, shuddering violently, before her desk.

“Oh. Oh…dear me. Harry.”

Minerva was too shocked to even pick up her wand. In a million years, she would never have expected a confession like that from Harry. Harry was sucking in lungful after lungful of air, trying to stay conscious in spite of the violent tension he was feeling, and the sound of ragged gasps and stifled sobs were coming the man in front of her. Minerva got to her feet unsteadily and wandered to Harry’s side, uncertain of what else to do.

She knew the events of those times as well as anyone who had fought in the war, and followed the news closely after it. She remembered only that Draco Malfoy, their new student’s father, had left the Order very suddenly after war had ended. The young man had married and fathered a child, only to wind up dead in France, fleeing the wrath of the Death Eaters he had helped to betray. It was a tragedy, to be certain, and the rumors that came afterward, hinting that Harry had been quite deliberately removed from the Auror service, came back to her with sudden clarity.

She’d heard that Harry had taken up residence at Grimmauld Place, and a few other former members of the Order Of The Phoenix had hinted that Harry desperately needed a new direction for his life. Minerva had already considered asking Harry to come on board as a Professor, but that clinched the matter. He’d been a bit haunted and quiet when he first started, as well as uncertain of himself as a teacher, but he’d done so very well.

Harry had flowered as a person and as an instructor in just a few short years, until no one at Hogwarts could have imagined a time before he was there. The children loved him, the staff respected and liked him, and no one could speak an ill word of the man and be taken seriously. He’d looked more than content all this time, a good friend and a fine teacher, but…he’d held this to himself all these years, and Minerva had never known. The drinking, and the secrecy that came with it, made such sense in this light.

Despite a fearsome reputation and an uncompromising drive to accomplish any goal, Minerva hid a very soft heart, and though she hid it well, it ached to see Harry suffer so. It was utterly surreal, to see him weep this way, and strange to find herself almost in the role of a mother, but she patted Harry’s back a bit nervously and tried to calm him.

“Harry…it’s alright. I promise you. I’d…I’d no idea that you and Draco were even friends. I’m so sorry, Harry. Whatever you may think, this too can be dealt with, love. You’ll be just fine, Harry…just fine…you’ll see.”

The sobering thought that came to Minerva as she spoke was a single terrible question. Would Harry, as distraught as he clearly was, really be alright?


TBC!!!