Redemption of a Snake

The Redemption of a Snake

Chapter 5: From the dead shall I rise


Friday, September the 25th, 5 o’clock PM

Narcissa was pacing in her room, worried to death. It had now been three days since her son disappeared from Hogwarts. And who could tell what had occurred to him during this time? He could be anywhere, led away from his parents by Riddle.

For years she had asked Lucius to destroy the book or, at least, hide it outside of the house. Draco was a curious boy; what would happen if he came upon it? Would Riddle leave him in peace because he was a Malfoy, son of a death-eater family? Or would he take his life away in order to revive? Lucius affirmed there was no danger, but who could be sure?

And now the spirit of Riddle had come back and attacked her baby boy. She put her hand to her brow in desperation. The past day, she had passed her anger on Lucius, but it hadn’t been enough to calm her stretched nerves. She needed fresh air. She strode to the window and opened it wide. Wind brushed her face, appeasing some of her fears.

When she had heard of the situation, she had ran first to Alayin. The old woman had been Draco’s confident over the years, and there was little she didn’t know about him. But this time, she had had no information either. Her sole counsel had been to wait. Draco was intelligent, and both women believed deeply that even Riddle couldn’t turn him to his death. But with hours passing, Narcissa’s faith faltered. Where was Draco? Where was her son?

And then she saw it. Away, looming from the horizon of the Malfoy’s lands, a dark point was coming toward the Manor. It was Draco. It had to be him! Seething, she strode to the fireplace and called for Hogwarts. She reached the headmaster’s office and eyed the three men, two of whom had a bewildered face at the sight before them. The devil was griping the lower part of Potter’s robes, with no obvious intention of harm.

Every living being in the office looked at her with wonder. “There’s someone coming!” she explained. They all rushed through the fireplace, as the demon disappeared into thin air. Narcissa emitted a slight cry as the devil apparated next to her. But the thing was soon out of the house and running toward the figure that he also had decided was his master.

Lucius went to the still opened window and scanned the lands, quickly spotting the growing form. He frowned. There was a problem; it wasn’t the form of a walking person… He followed the demon out and went to whom they all believed was his son.

When they reached the coming people, they were only some dozens of metres away from the Manor. They froze in place. It was Draco, but… his body was slowly being carried, bent over someone they couldn’t see but could guess was exhausted, by the trudging pace the corpse of Draco was advancing at. The boy was unconscious, face skinny and ghostly from lack of food and sleep. He didn’t seem to be breathing anymore.

Lucius caught his son in his arms and ran to the Manor while his wife opened the door to the nearest room. They had to hide him quickly. If an outsider learnt of Draco’s work in demonology, he would be in great danger of the aurors whom still had there spying spells active. Dumbledore observed the ground where he had last seen the invisible one that had been carrying Draco. But he detected nothing. In a corner of his mind, he put a note stating Tom’s matter would have to be resolved quickly.

Harry took a phial out of his pocket, gave it the boy’s mother, then returned to Hogwarts to search for Snape and Lupin. Malfoy and Dumbledore wanted to ask Harry what was this potion, but before they could react, Narcissa had grabbed it and made her son drink it. Draco coughed violently, his body writhing spasmodically and his eyes opened wide in fear.

At that moment, Potter came back, followed by the two professors, and all surrounded the bed the boy had been laid on, while the Headmaster worked on Draco. Soon, when the child was calm anew thanks to a spell, Dumbledore asked all of them to get out of the room. Draco was dying from both influences of dark magic and demonology. He had to be freed from one before it destroyed him.

Hesitating, but knowing they had no time to find another solution, they all compelled and Dumbledore remained alone with the unconscious child. The headmaster sighed. “You caused us much fear, do you know that?” he murmured as he was taking out his wand. “Of course you know… You did it half on purpose, I suppose, to make us pay for our lies… You succeeded. I never feared so much for Harry than when I learnt of your demon.”

And he began the ritual. When they had discovered that Draco had practised both demonology and dark magic, he had immediately gone back to some books he had noticed in a room of Hogwarts long ago. In one, there had been the description of a ritual of purification. It would erase every influence of the lesser dark arts that Draco had studied, letting in his energy only the one he had practised most. In this case, Dumbledore wasn’t sure if it’d be demonology or dark magic.

Outside, Narcissa was still pacing, which irritated the others. They had all remained in the corridor, none of them wanting to be farther away from the place Draco was reposing in. As time passed, their impatience was growing and Lucius turned to Harry.

“What was this potion?” he asked.

Harry smirked. “If you don’t mind, I’ll wait for Professor Dumbledore to tell the story. There’s quite a lot to narrate.”

Lucius nodded, but their curiosity had been picked.

An hour later, Dumbledore was out. “He’s sleeping,” he said. Then he eyed Harry, obviously wondering, too, about the phial.

“Can we talk inside without bothering his rest?” the Gryffindor inquired, “I’m sure they’d all prefer to be near him,” he wisely said.

“This can be done,” allowed the headmaster. He went back in and cast some spells on the bed so that the young Slytherin’s rest wouldn’t be disturbed by their presence. Narcissa sat next to her son and the others dispersed with good graces in the room in order not to asphyxiate the reposing child. The demon was nowhere to be seen.

Then Harry started his narration. “Friday night, after we heard of Malfoy’s disappearance and I talked with Professor Dumbledore, I went to sleep. That’s when I saw this letter on my night-table…”

Flashback

Harry arched an eyebrow. It was bad omen when Slytherins wanted to associate with Gryffindors, he thought with a smile. ‘Come to the dungeons and knock on the lab’s door. I’ll open to you,’ the letter said. He smirked. “You ferret git.”

Since everyone was already sleeping, he headed for the dungeons without encountering a problem. Using the same stratagem to enter the Slytherin’s common room that he had with Ron and Hermione some months previously, he was soon obeying the letter’s orders. The wall broke open and he entered the lab for the second time in his life.

Draco was there, white as a ghost, exhausted to the core. Harry sat on a chair and waited for Malfoy to explain his actions.

“Dumbledore told you about my disappearance?” the Slytherin asked.

“Yes, I came back with your father when Moony was showing your message to him.” Harry wasn’t sure that mentioning Lucius to his son was a good idea, but if he wanted Draco to remotely trust him, he’d better not begin the conversation with a lie.

“So you know about Tom?”

Harry nodded, “I do, but there’s something concerning him that you’re not aware of… He’s Voldemort. Riddle is his past self.”

Draco was listening attentively to what the Gryffindor had to say. “I suspected something of the sort…” he admitted with a sigh.

“You suspected?!!” Harry cried, “But why did you still leave then?! And… Why are you back?” That seemed a stupid course of action. Voldemort wanted to kill the Malfoy child, why would he voluntarily go alone with him? And why the letter if he had projected to remain hidden in the castle?

Draco smirked. “I am not back. I used the duplicating potion. This half of me never went out. Now, hear me out, I don’t have much time. This splitting is tiring my other half too much. Riddle is trying to kill me by making me practise two dark arts at the same time. I have a plan concerning him, and it becomes even more interesting now that I know he’s Voldemort. Just now, I’m with him in the forest, and he’s trying to convince me to kill you, action that I will attempt to perform. Do you have a Pensieve?”

Harry didn’t understand fully what Draco was getting at, but he answered by the positive nonetheless. After Sirius’s death, Dumbledore had judged it could be necessary that he possessed one, to relieve his mind from some dreams.

“Do you know how to create a false memory?” asked Draco.

“No, I didn’t know it was possible.”

“Then... take that,” Draco handed over a parchment, “It’s explained. You will create a dream in which you see me dying in the forest and sending a demon after you. And here,” he presented a drawing, “is this devil. It’s approximately one meter tall. Don’t care about the details; dreams aren’t always exact. Then you’ll put that false dream in your mind and Monday morning, go to Dumbledore as if you just had it.”

“What use will it be?”

“Personal revenge. You don’ t mind, do you?” Draco inquired with a smirk. When Harry mirrored him, the Slytherin went on. “While they’re all worrying over your soon to occur death, I’ll be luring Tom into a trap.”

“Which will lead to…?”

“A surprise of mine.” Draco’s eyes were shining, and Harry could tell his plan was scheduled to the minute. “Let Dumbledore decide the procedure to follow. It is possible that Tom come back to the school to verify the demon is really here, so be natural. Then he’ll return to my body. When the devil apparates to you, don’t be afraid. It’ll hurt no one. At the same moment, I’ll be on my way to Malfoy Manor, with Tom. I probably won’t be in a fit state. Make me drink that then.” Draco handed a last item: a phial. “If there’s a problem and you can’t find me at the Manor, Karnar will lead you to me. Karnar is my little devil,” he explained. “Now I have to go.”

The Slytherin went to drink from another phial and Harry was at the door, when he turned back. “Despite everything I imagined, I may enjoy working with you,” he admitted.

Draco smiled tiredly, “Are you certain? If I die, the demon might decide to attempt killing you, ally or not.” And with a last smirk, he gulped the liquid and his body vanished.

Harry hid the phial, drawing and parchment in his robes. He had no fear of this possible death in the hands of the devil. He had decided some time ago that Draco wasn’t a killer. The Slytherin wouldn’t have sent a demon after him that would risk disobeying his orders. The sole danger in this story was if they couldn’t find Draco in time. But the Slytherin had affirmed his demon could find him, should the need arise.

Harry pondered on this surprise of Malfoy. What had he invented this time? He didn’t agree with making the whole school and Order worry over Draco and himself, but the secrets that Dumbledore was still keeping from him, especially concerning the last battle against Voldemort, were convincing him to agree to the plot. He had suffered enough from secrets. This would definitely stop these boastful adults from seeing them as children. There still was one person he regretted to see suffering. It was Moony. The man had long wanted to reveal everything to Draco. He didn’t deserve the worry. And Harry was certain Draco saw it this way too, or he wouldn’t have left his message to Lupin. With decided steps, he headed for the werewolf’s apartments.

“You knew?!!!!!!” Snape yelled at Remus, whose eyes were downcast. Moony wasn’t proud of what he had done. Besides, such knowledge had only increased his worry: to be aware of the risks Draco was willingly taking… This boy was dangerously turning into a Gryffindor. Or maybe all Slytherins were mad from the beginning. After all, Severus had served as a spy for twenty years; it wasn’t any less hazardous…

Lucius went to make a well-chosen comment when his son let out a whimper and opened his eyes. Remus’ participation was forgotten as their undivided attention was given to Draco. Harry was smirking. He was certain the Slytherin had been awake for a time and theatrically waited for the right moment to make it known. From Dumbledore’s smile, he wasn’t far from the truth.

What was real, though, was Draco’s exhaustion. The boy was staring at them, screwing his eyes in an attempt to recognise them.

“Professor,” he called in a raspy voice.

Both Snape and Lupin rushed to his side and Harry bit back a laugh. How could they buy such an act? When they were at arm’s length, Draco reached for Moony’s hand, grasped it and went back to sleep. Just like that. Lucius was still gaping when his wife shoved him out, alongside with Harry, Dumbledore and Snape.

“Since Lupin is watching over Draco, I’m going to bed,” the woman declared, “Good night.” And she disappeared in her room. She remembered Remus from their school years. The Gryffindor was the kindest person in England. Never would he let her son be harmed. Draco was safer with him than with everyone else. After three sleepless nights, she could finally appreciate her pillow. She would have to be present for Draco in the morning.

“Well… We should be going back to Hogwarts, Harry,” recalled Dumbledore, “You have work to catch up.”

Potter’s amused face suddenly darkened. Work… He’d have to ask Malfoy if he had another idea to miss class. And school meant narrating to Ron what had happened. He’d probably miss the part in which he associated with Draco…

o-

Malfoy and Snape were left alone in the corridor, knowing not what to do. Lucius hesitated on whether to go to sleep or not. But he’d probably not find any rest, and what with his wife’s current short temper, it was better if he tried sleeping somewhere else or, even better, didn’t try at all. Severus wavered whether to go back to Hogwarts or ask if he could remain nearby, in case Draco awoke. Finally, the Malfoy lord offered a drink and they went to the smoking room.

They remained silent, each fuelling his wounded pride and heart with more reproaches. Draco had chosen Lupin over them. It was no wonder. Lucius’ lies had already been taken to light by his son and probably, the boy had also been aware of what Snape had truly been brewing when the Slytherin had come to him. Why had he associated with Potter then? Why not only Lupin? Because it hurt more this way. They had all wanted to withdraw him from the first scene, by fear his hatred and jealousy of Potter could lead to fights and danger for both of them. But he wasn’t a child anymore. He knew the difference between school rivalries and war matter. And he had proved to them he could work with the Gryffindor. How many times would they underestimate him?

They sipped the fine cognac, the fire cracking in the chimney. Their hearts were growing heavy and they were fingering the crystal glasses with clammy hands. When they were both finished, Lucius got up and served them again.

As they were having the sixth, their tongues were beginning to loosen and their minds to fuddle.

“Why did he do that?” asked Lucius, more to himself than to Severus. “Why didn’t he come and ask? Why did he go with Riddle?”

“Because he went to you and you lied,” Snape stammered back, “I lied to him… After the lesson he had given me with the mark, I was stupid enough to doubt him again, and I lied…”

“You can’t lie to a Malfoy…” grumbled Lucius.

“And he chose Lupin. He chose the werewolf. He must hate me…”

“I’m his father. He knows I only want what’s best for him. I lied because I didn’t want him hurt…”

“We’re two losers…”

“Talk for yourself Snape. Draco’s my son. He can’t hate me… He can’t…”

When the elves came to rekindle the fire, they found the men asleep in their armchairs, snoring softly and murmuring Draco’s name.

o-

Remus was left alone with Draco in the room. Since the boy wasn’t letting go of his hand, and he couldn’t remain standing the night long, he stretched out his arm to grasp the nearest chair and sat on it with a sigh. Draco had made them worry to breaking point. He didn’t know about Harry, but he had been on the verge of going to Dumbledore each passing minute. And this idea of the headmaster to occupy their mind by teaching their usual classes. It had been horrible. He couldn’t remember what lesson he had given… He hoped there hadn’t been any accident after his departure. He had left his class in Ms Weasley’s care. No, the girl was strong; she could handle the sixth year Gryffindor/Slytherin… He hoped…

Suddenly, he felt his hand being squeezed and looked at the boy. Draco was awake, staring at his professor. Remus smiled, amused.

“I thought you were sleeping,” he remarked kindly.

Draco silently moved his head in a negative answer. “Are they gone?”

“Yes, your mother went to bed, and Dumbledore and Harry back to Hogwarts.” Purposefully, he left out Lucius and Severus. He was beginning to know the boy well. Draco would ask about them, at one time or another.

The boy nodded. “You’re going to get hurt if you sleep in this,” he commented while showing the chair Remus sat in. “Come in here.”

Remus choked. “Draco… You’re resting. Besides, I’m fine as I am.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course, and in the morning, you won’t be able to stand, your back will hurt so much. Three people could get in this bed and there’d still be place for more. Get in,” he ordered. As Moony still didn’t move, he soothed his tone and smiled devilishly. “If you don’t get in, I’ll be annoyed and won’t rest well…”

Remus’ eyes rounded at the child’s dare. He was blackmailing him! The werewolf sighed before taking off his shoes. “I feel like a mug,” he muttered, half amused, half angry.

“No, you’re nice, that’s all.”

Moony observed Draco with care. He hadn’t known that ‘nice’ was part of a Malfoy’s vocabulary. He smiled softly. Merlin, this child could make him do everything… “So, what is the real reason?” he asked. If it had only been a matter of a bed, he could very well have transfigured a cot.

The Slytherin’s eyes saddened and he looked away. “I have nightmares,” he admitted.

“I’ll search for a dreamless potion,” Remus immediately reacted, ready to get up.

“No,” stopped Draco, “I can’t drink them, they drain energy.”

“Oh…” Remus lay back on the mattress and Draco cuddled against him. Remus wondered if Draco was truly a Slytherin. Maybe he ought to try the Sorting Hat a second time… No, Malfoy would kill him for such a suggestion… “What do you dream about?”

Draco looked elsewhere, avoiding the inquisitive gaze. “Can we talk about something else, please? I don’t like this subject…”

“Of course,” Remus accepted gently, “It was a simple question.”

“I wondered,” The boy quickly accepted the bait, “can you tell me what happened with Tom in my second year? I need information.”

“I don’t know much… You’d better ask Harry. Why do you want to know that?”

Draco smirked as his eyes glistened with malice and some sadness. “Ah… I’d really tell you if I could, but I don’t trust Dumbledore with your mind. He’d search it if he knew I had explained my scheme to you. He’s too curious to resist.” As Remus hesitated, Draco insisted, “I promise you that I won’t make you worry again.”

At length, Remus gave his approbation of the secret project; he couldn’t resist the boy. He narrated all he knew about the Chamber of Secrets’ affair then, as Draco kept yawning, they switched off the light. And in the dark, a slight concern of Remus that Draco could truly hate his father and Severus was blown off with a whisper from the boy.

o-

He opened the phial and poured the content inside his father’s mouth. When no potion remained, he sighed deeply. He only had to close the tomb and go back to the house. In less than an hour, the body would have disappeared. He went to go back up when he stiffened and his hair stood on his head. The corpse’s eyes were eyeing him.

His breath stopped completely and he remained frozen as the corpse was dressing. The half dark orbs were plunging in his and he trembled on his feet. In a dash, he whirled to get out of the tomb but was soon clutched in a tight grip and turned back. He struggled like the very devil against the living dead. The odour of rotting flesh was invading his nostrils, overrunning his mind.

“You let me die,” the dead man said.

“I didn’t! You’re alive!” cried out the child, whose arms were bruising under the force of the grip.

“Why did you let me die, Draco?” the corpse went on, unaware of the child’s answer, “I’m alone in here… Stay with me…” And so slowly, Lucius’ body sat back in his tomb, taking Draco with him, as earth fell on them from the boy’s fighting.

“No… Dad, you can’t! Stop! Stop! You’re going to kill me! Dad!” As the corpse didn’t hear his words, he launched backwards and punched the corpse, horrified at his own actions. He jumped out of the tomb and made to run to the door.

But the living corpse wasn’t any less quick and he caught Draco’s left foot, pulling the child. “How dare you treat me this way, boy?! I taught you more respect than that!”

Completely terror-stricken, Draco struggle harder, but even in death, his father was strong. He caught sight of the stones that had framed the tomb, grasped one and banged his father’s head. Lucius collapsed at the far end of the tomb, unmoving.

Draco remained sitting for some seconds, panting, despaired from what he’d just done. Only the falling earth awoke him from his horror. He crawled out of the hole and pushed soil back in it with shivering hands. Drops were falling from his eyes as he recalled his dead father.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

o-

Saturday, September the 26th

Day was slowly appearing through the grand window of the room. Remus had been awake for a time now and his working brain had refused to let him go back to sleep. There were so many unanswered questions, and their number was increasing without their resolving a single problem. But he believed some of them would soon be settled. Draco seemed in a more talkative mood…

He wondered what hour it was. By the sun, approximately eight o’clock. And what about his classes? He had to teach them… Ah, it was Saturday; there were no classes. Besides, for now, his work was to take care of… Draco agitated next to him, his breath short and rash, whimpering softly.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” the boy was crying in his sleep.

Remus clasped the boy in his arms and shook him with gentle moves till Draco awoke. The child sniffed, eyes still slightly red. When he was better, he disentangled himself from the professor and jumped out of the bed to rush to open the window before coming back to the man’s arms. It felt good not to be alone after these dreams. He wasn’t timid but such memories frightened him to no ends. He should really ask for a Pensieve, he needed it.

“You seem pretty fit for someone that was on the verge of death some hours ago,” Remus commented playfully at the boy’s activity. It was good if the child wished to clear his mind from the nightmares.

“I’m fine now; I just lacked energy,” explained Draco. “Did you see my little devil?” he asked eagerly. When Remus shook his head, Draco swiftly pronounced some worlds of an incomprehensible language and a thing apparated next to him, jumping and bouncing with joy around his master. Draco caught it one time it passed in front of him and brought it to Remus. It was identical to the drawing Harry had shown him the very night of Draco’s disappearance. The demon first seemed afraid of him, then, as Draco explained who he was in this strange tongue of his, it gradually lost its suspicion.

To Remus’ amusement, the last thing Draco said caused the demon to gape as humans do and to stare alternatively at them. What had Draco talked about? But he couldn’t ask as the little devil launched at him and embraced him with many purrs.

“Enough, enough,” Draco laughed, seeing his teacher in a state of ‘what do I do in such situation?’ “Go and play outside,” he ordered softly to the demon. Draco eyed the thing and Remus wondered if all demons knew how to open doors…

“You like him,” Remus voiced his notice.

“He kept me company when I was dying,” Draco explained carefully, making sure by a glance that the professor wouldn’t ask more on the subject. “Professor… It bothers me to ask that of you but… could I be alone for some minutes please?”

Remus frowned. Why had the child invented this time?

“I won’t be long, a simple problem to settle,” promised the boy.

Consenting, the professor got out, slightly worried over Draco, and swearing to himself that he would rush back inside at the first suspicious noise.

When he was alone in the room, Draco glared at the air with scorn and criticism. “To you, now…”

o-

The past day

Tom contemplated his work with a non-dissimulated pleasure. Draco had learnt dark magic and slowly begun dying. Then he had studied demonology and called forth a creature capable of killing Potter. Tom’s plan had been perfect. Draco had disappeared deep down in the forest, unreachable from any of the Light Side. The demon had departed for Hogwarts. And then, there had been this sentence…

The boy couldn’t die in silence! Why this sudden phrase? Why this unexpected doubt?

Tom remembered his first seventeen years in the orphanage, then Hogwarts. After that, it had been forty years spent locked in a book. In the beginning, there had been the current Malfoy lord, Lucius’ father, to talk to him. At his death, Lucius had replaced him but it wasn’t the same. The man was prudent and mistrustful of what Tom could do from his resting place. The spirit had missed the company.

Then it had been Potter’s second year. He’d had fun with the little Virginia Weasley and seeing his basilisk pet had been entertaining. Students had feared him like in the good old times. But Potter had destroyed his playing field. And he had been left alone in a world where no one could see him. Hogwarts’ barriers had prevented him from going out and roaming the world. During four years, his only occupation had been to spy on Dumbledore; but without an aim for it, it hadn’t been much fun. He had heard of his other self’s plans getting thrashed by the order of the Phoenix. It had been disgusting. He had quickly stopped any useless contact with any living person.

Finally Draco had appeared. Tom had considered, at the time, the Malfoy heir to be a pitiful boy that couldn’t beat Potter at anything, but some days of spying on Dumbledore had proved the child had changed. He now had strong resources and could hold very nice discussions. But Draco had revealed he could serve as something more than a pastime. He could take the controversial position of the cat. Potter would be the mouse, and he would be the Master. He had rejoiced in advance.

And his fun was disturbed by this bloody sentence! “I hope Voldemort will be able to see you…”

“I hate you!” he screamed at the lying body of Draco. “Rot in Hell!”

When Malfoy was dead, his demon would kill Potter, and Tom would join back with Voldemort. Maybe could he even shorten the poor boy’s suffering, Tom sniggered. It’d be so quick… Draco wouldn’t resist… He loomed over the unconscious body and grabbed it by the throat, then began to press.

‘I hope Voldemort will be able to see you…’ It echoed in his head.

“Rhaaa! Malfoy! You little shit!” What if Voldemort couldn’t see him? What if he had done all this for a revenge that’d cost him to spend an eternity alone?

He abandoned the half-dead body and ran. Faintly, he could feel Voldemort’s presence not that far away. He followed the magical trace to Riddle Manor and entered the old house. He crossed some death-eaters, sons of imbeciles that he remembered from his time in the school, and finally met his future self. He hadn’t imagined that. He was so old! He was yelling after… Pettigrew, it had to be. What a flunkey! Yuk!

But he had no time to linger over underlings. He went straight to the new dark lord.

“Hey!” he called.

But Voldemort went on bawling the rat out. “Hey!” Riddle yelled again. “Hey! You! I’m here! See me!”

He tried hitting the man, without success. Fear was taking him and heat was falling from his back. Could the fucking Malfoy have been right?! No, Draco hadn’t known, he had only made a remark. How could he have been so near from the truth?

Riddle looked again at Voldemort and resisted the urge to break down. There was no one to see him… No one! There was only Draco… and the boy was dying…

But Draco had to die! Potter had to pay! And Dumbledore had to suffer! And then… then… he’d savour his revenge… alone… all alone… desperately alone… till he went completely mad from solitude…

In a rush, he ran back to the forest. Where was it? Where was the body of this imbecile?! If he’d died already… no… he couldn’t have died! He couldn’t! He had no right! Ah… He was there… He leaned on Draco and listened to his heart. It was faint, but it still was beating. Malfoy Manor was some kilometres away; he could be there in two hours. He lifted Draco on his shoulders then walked.

He was panting, gasping for breath. Why was he so exhausted? He was a spirit; he wasn’t supposed to get tired. But his heart was beating faster out of the effort, and the tiredness was getting to his head. He couldn’t faint there… It’d be so stupid, he caught sight of Malfoy Manor on the horizon; he was almost there. And then… life would be back as during the last two weeks. It had been pleasant. He could live with only one person to talk to. But he needed this one. One more step… Another… He swung on his feet.

Ah! People were coming… It was Lucius and his wife. Dumbledore was there too and bloody Potter. Tom would have raged if he’d had the energy. These goody-goody Gryffindors… They would try stealing Draco from him, but he wouldn’t let them. Draco was his, and his alone. He didn’t… share…

Suddenly, his body met with the ground. He tried to get back up, without success. Where had his energy gone? Why couldn’t he move? His breath was short and rare. He was dying too. Was it a result of his strange bond with Draco?

He remained on the floor for hours, looking at the stars, slowly regaining his energy. Draco ought to be better. At length, when he was able to get up, he directed his steps towards the Manor. After a few attempts at discovering Draco in the numerous rooms of the house, he finally found the boy, being cradled by Lupin. Tom rolled his eyes. Such a good family, falling so low as to get rocked by a werewolf Gryffindor…

Soon, Draco awoke. But what froze Tom anew were the boy’s eyes, when Draco turned in his direction, that passed through his immaterial body. Knitting his brows in suspicion and cold fear, he approached the Malfoy child as Draco was invoking his little devil. Tom held his hand… and traversed the boy’s shoulder…

Staring wide-eyed at his own hand, mouth agape and voicing a silent plea, he realised Draco couldn’t see him anymore. He staggered some steps backwards till his legs failed him and he collapsed on the floor. Potter was still alive, if not Lupin surely wouldn’t be there, and he was alone. His plan had backfired horribly.

Going into a rage suddenly, he launched at Draco but went through him.

“I’ll kill you!” he screamed with fury, “You bloody Malfoy! My plan was perfect! You made it fail! I’ll kill you!”

But his blows were only touching air and progressively lost their force under desperation. He panted, exhausted by his outburst, and wondered one more time how it was that he could feel fatigue.

Draco was smiling at Remus, oblivious of Tom. Prostrated in a corner, the spirit experienced loneliness again. Since he had met with Draco, he’d never imagined to be alone again. He had been so caught up in his revenge that he hadn’t considered that, maybe, there was a risk that Voldemort wasn’t able to see him.

“… Could I be alone for some minutes?” Draco was asking.

Tom was sadly eyeing the only people that had been capable of seeing him. Draco looked like one of these goody Gryffindors, with his smiles and big puppy eyes. No, he was even worse. That was disgusting. It’d have been funny if he hadn’t been so heart-broken.

But as soon as Lupin was out, Tom shivered. The air of the room became menacing and demonic signs printed on the walls. And Draco’s eyes were far from nice as the boy advanced on Tom. “Now, to you…” he hissed.

Draco loomed over Tom, his hands clutching tightly the spirit’s shoulders. “You tried to kill me…”

Tom stared widely at this new Malfoy. Draco was menacing, frightening, his eyes had taken a dark tint that reminded him of the black flames of his demon’s pupils. And Tom couldn’t refrain himself from wishing to disappear on the spot.

“You tried to manipulate me…” Draco went on, gazing straight into the spirit’s eyes.

‘Good lord Slytherin,’ thought Tom, ‘I created a monster…’

“What should I do to punish you? An eternity in the shadow world seems to fit your fault.”

Tom’s breath shortened more, if possible. Draco could send him into the shadow world? But then… “It was you,” he murmured.

“What? That stole your energy? That modified your body so that you wouldn’t be able to touch me? Yes, it was I. Interesting what demonists can do, isn’t it? And when you come back, in some dozens of years, I may be so nice as to take you in my service. That is, if you haven’t gone mad…” Draco smirked.

“I’ll serve you!” Tom cried out suddenly. It was the sole idea that had come to his mind to save himself from the madness that would inevitably strike him during the long years alone. The shadow world was worse than anything that could be imagined. From there, all you could observe were shades; all you could hear were buzzes. No one conserved his sanity more than one or two years. Merlin, he’d do anything to avoid this Hell, even kneel to Dumbledore if he had to.

But to Tom’s ease of mind, Draco took his remark into consideration. “You’ll serve me?” The boy repeated, clearly amused and interested.

“Yes,” confirmed Tom, “Just don’t send me there.” For now, to play the boy’s servant was the least of his worries.

“Fine then,” finally Draco smiled, satisfied by the proposition. “This affair is settled.” He went to the door and opened to Lupin. “I’m finished professor. Thank you for your wait.”

o-

Narcissa awoke and elegantly yawned in her bed. She extended her hand and met cold sheets. Narcissa blinked a few times and grew slightly worried at the surprise of waking up alone in her room. Then she remembered the events of the past day. Poor Lucius, she repressed a chuckle. She changed into her daily robes and winded her way toward the room Draco was resting in. When she arrived, she noticed Lupin waiting outside, stamping his feet with impatience and worry. She frowned.

“What happened?” she asked with care.

“Draco wanted some time alone,” he explained, somewhat fearing the reaction Narcissa could have. The aristocratic woman behaved as a true Malfoy, haughty air and spoiling her only son. She seemed harmless. But Remus remembered how, twenty-five years ago, when they all were in Hogwarts, the Marauders had played a stupid trick on her. Childish, really, they had painted her hair in pink. She hadn’t suspected Remus or Peter but had hexed Sirius and James into oblivion. You didn’t mess with Narcissa Black.

She eyed him for a time, pondering on the explanation. When she seemed to accept it, he let out, in silence, a breath he hadn’t notice he was holding. The memory of his best friends falling from the curses of this single Slytherin was still deeply carved in his mind…

Some minutes after, Draco came out. “I’m finished professor. Thank you for your wait,” he said to the werewolf. He noticed his mother and smiled warmly to her. “Where is Dad?”

“In the smoking room, I suppose,” she smirked. After so many times in life, she knew her husband’s habits. And Snape’s too, since he’d been a death-eater relation of the family. Effectively, both men were asleep, two half empty glasses on the consoles next to them.

Draco smiled kindly and brushed his fingers against his father’s shoulder, awakening the man with a start. Immediately, Lucius lifted his hand to his head, moaning in pain. Draco laughed softly. “I have some Pepperup potion in my room. I’ll search for it.”

Before Lucius could react, Draco had reiterated the act with Snape. Soon, they were all sitting at the dining room table, two of them avidly drinking the anti-hangover potion. Narcissa and Remus were laughing to themselves at the men’s uneasiness. Oblivious to their embarrassment, or rather too aware of it, Draco was wolfing down his third breakfast. When they were finished, he ran to his room again and came back, his pockets full of bags and phials. Their looks were curious, but they kept their mouths shut.

Draco had decided they were to go back to Hogwarts. Remus agreed with him, Severus and Lucius didn’t dare make any remark, and Narcissa rejoiced in assisting her son’s coming to power. They went to the fireplace and cast floo-powder in it. As Lucius was going to traverse the flames, Draco looked at him with sad eyes and a hopeful smile. “There is no rotten flesh or rats in here. You’re alive and it’s all I need to remember.”

Lucius felt bad for his only child. He had wanted to protect Draco and had finally endangered him to no end. The terror-stricken days that had preceeded had given him a very important lesson. He had made the same error as everyone else: he had underestimated his son. He didn’t understand what Draco meant with this sentence, but it sounded like a pardon. And it felt good. He hugged the boy with love. Had someone other than Narcissa witnessed the show, they wouldn’t have believed their eyes. Lucius was a cold man, he had done a lot of bad in his life, and if his interest lay in doing it again, he would repeat his actions. But his son was his pride and joy. It was the young beating heart that kept his own from failing. To be forced to remain with Potter when he should have been out looking for Draco had been unbearable. But the relief he felt when embracing his boy was his redemption. A pang of emotion ran through his heart and he thought that no one should have to look at their children suffering: they were too precious. And slowly, very slowly, he was learning compassion.

o-

As soon as dawn had been pointing at the horizon, Dumbledore had called for a reunion of the Order. The day was free of classes, and all children had rushed out to play. When every member had arrived and they all sat in the headmaster’s office, Remus and Severus appeared through the fireplace. Sneaking a slight look into Lupin’s mind, he found out Draco’s masquerade of the past day. The ghost of a smile curled Dumbledore’s lips. This boy was too much of an actor for his own good… ‘What could Draco have been doing alone in the room?’ he heard Moony’s mind wondering. The old man remembered the way the Slytherin had come back from his fugue. Tom. But how had Draco convinced him into abandoning his revenge? Surely he had a plot concerning the spirit. Some seconds later, the Malfoys made their apparition, under the death glares of many persons. Narcissa wasn’t there. She stayed at home, Lucius explained. The man and his son remained close, and Dumbledore deducted that they had reconciled. Which wasn’t Severus’ case, he noted. The Potions Master was as down as when they had departed for Malfoy Manor. Simply matter of time; Draco wasn’t one to hold grudges for long against this professor of his.

In the room, Dumbledore was feeling the demon’s presence. All the signs were beginning to point to a funny séance. “Tea?” he proposed with a smile.

Mrs Weasley observed the entering of her two nemeses with attention and hatred. Never had the Malfoys brought something good for her family. But after a time, she stared wide-eyed at them. Ron had vaguely mentioned it, during the holidays, but she hadn’t envisioned the full physical repercussions it could have: the Malfoy boy had been letting his hair grow long. His sharp cheekbones had smoothed with maturing, and his face taken a darken air. Had his father and him been the same age, they would have looked like twins. Some chairs away, Harry was the living image of his own father. It seemed like the Past had caught up with them, and it was frightening. Remus and Snape were still alive, Ron had replaced Sirius at Potter’s side, and Hermione possessed Lily’s intelligence and beauty. But who played Peter’s role?

As she was lost in her thoughts, conversation had been advancing in the room. When she came back to reality, Dumbledore was exposing his plans. They had to take out of Azkaban a maximum of death-eaters; all those that could be won over and ensure their loyalty to the light side. The headmaster hoped that collaboration between Malfoy and Snape could lead to the creation of a potion that would prevent any apposition of the dark mark. From their views, this idea was realistic. What with Draco’s anti-Morsmordre potion and Snape’s work on a mind-separating potion, it would only be a matter of weeks.

Dumbledore was going mad. He wanted to let loose assassins. Did he fully realise what he was doing?! Malfoy had manipulated him! There was no other possibility! From their looks, a majority of the Order was partaking in her ideas.

“Albus!” Mad-Eye suddenly interjected, “We can’t release death-eaters without assurance!”

“Of course not.” The Malfoy senior rolled his eyes, “There are cells for them in the Manor.”

Kingsley snorted. “If the rumours of their escape spread, it’ll be the first place the aurors will search.”

“You searched the Manor for years and never found the catacombs. You haven’t gotten more intelligent since then.”

Mad-Eye clenched his fists at the insult. “I remember you weren’t so proud when we discovered your hidden vault.”

Lucius smirked. “I wasn’t happy, effectively. But the objects you confiscated were newly bought; they hadn’t that much power. I mostly kept them to train Draco. You truly thought I would hide highly dark items under a carpet?” He arched an eyebrow in amusement.

Many people present raged at the boastfulness. In his corner, Draco yawned. This reunion was boring. They were going on so slowly… Voldemort had the time to attack them three times; they’d still be here talking. Suddenly, his attention was drawn by a pulling down of his robe’s sleeve. He smiled, searched for a bag in his pocket, took out a cookie and gave it to the air. Mrs Weasley gaped when the cake levitated. Seeing his wife in this state of frozen observation, Arthur eyed the air and had the same reaction. Soon, all sights were fixed on the cookie that was beginning to disappear, as eaten by an invisible mouth.

“You brought back your demon?” Harry asked, talking for the first time.

Draco glanced toward him, hidden emotion passing in his pupils. “Yes. He’s learning human language.”

The mouths were gaping at the realisation. Since the beginning of the reunion, a demon had been present in the room. A demon that could kill any of them. “Albus!” Molly cried out in indignation, “You can’t allow a demon to roam the school! It could hurt the students!”

Dumbledore sipped his tea with calm, “No… Mr Malfoy has it well in hand.”

“But it was ready to kill Harry!” reminded Mrs Figgs, “What if Malfoy decides he still wants him dead?!”

The headmaster and the Slytherin child looked at each other. “You didn’t explain, did you?” the boy asked.

Dumbledore sighed. “No, I thought there was no need. Obviously, there is… Draco never ordered his little devil to kill Harry. It was a plan to trick Riddle.”

“Riddle!” yelled many, remembering there was this matter to take care of too. “Where is he, by the way?” “You said he had gone out; could he have joined the dark lord?” “Maybe he’s back!” “Albus, he’s too much of a danger, he must be destroyed!” The voices were mixed, echoing in the little room, growing into an incomprehensible rambling.

Dumbledore hushed them. “I don’t know where Tom is. The last time I saw him, he was in Malfoy Manor.” He ignored the muttered words that suggested the Malfoys were in league with the spirit to destroy the light side from the inside. “But surely Draco knows where he is?”

The boy nodded, his lips tightly pursed. “He’s here. He’s listening to you.” All breaths stopped, apart from those of some that had suspected from the beginning. Draco went on, his voice perfectly calm. “He’s sitting next to me, waiting to see the results of your little tantrums. Karnar is on his lap. Since you don’t know, Karnar is my little devil, and he hates to be referred to as an ‘it’. Besides, Tom is mine, and I won’t let him be harmed, especially by you.”

Harry screwed his eyes, attempting to see into Malfoy’s mind. He didn’t like that. No, he hated that! Riddle in liberty was a dangerous thing. He had nearly fooled Draco to death once; he could try again. He was a murderer and had to pay for his crimes. But the fact that Malfoy rarely did something out of generosity was almost reassuring. If he had a plan concerning Riddle, the situation could become interesting. Abandoning his mind scanning, he wished he had been more attentive to Snape’s Occlumency lessons.

The room was completely silent, but Harry could hear the thoughts of hatred in every mind. At his side, Ron was clenching his jaw, teeth gritted, lips set. “You’re letting him stay free?” the redhead hissed. He pushed back his chair and took out his wand. “After what he did to my sister?!” He yelled. He pointed his wand at Malfoy. “Petrific…”

But before Ron could end his spell, the demon had taken form. In slow motion, Harry saw a Thundershot rush on his friend and launched at him. They hurt the floor as Ron’s chair was projected against a wall and crashed to bits. Mrs and Mr Weasley ran to their son’s side, and Harry turned angrily to Malfoy, just as wands went out to point at the Slytherin.

“You said you had him under control!” he yelled, furious, “He could have killed Ron!”

But Malfoy wasn’t moving from his chair and sighed. “Karnar can’t kill an adult wizard. He’s not strong enough for that.”

Harry was flabbergasted. “What? But… You said…”

“I said that he might TRY to kill you. I never said that he could succeed. Moreover,” He turned to Ron, “let me remind you that Tom attempted to kill me too, so I have just as many reasons to hate him than your sister have. I already made my choice concerning his sentence, and since I’m feeling fair today, Little Weaslette will have her word to say. But YOU,” He pointed at Ron, Arthur and Molly, “will remain outside of this affair. I’m taking a walk; I’ll come back when you have calmed down.” And he went out.

“Well…” Dumbledore concluded with a smile, “It didn’t end so badly, after all.”

o-

Tom glared at the retreating boy. Draco had tricked him! He raged. He had bought this act of poor little abandoned child, when Malfoy had known from the beginning! But he had promised to serve him, now. It was too late to go back on his word. The debt’s owner could only undo magical commitment. With no other choice, he followed Draco outside, at the forest’s border. The Slytherin sat on the floor, leaning against a tree, and yawned again.

As he was closing his eyes, Draco noticed the killing look that Tom was sending his way, and he smirked. “I didn’t know,” he simply said.

Tom sneered sarcastically. “You didn’t know what? That Dumbledore had unearthed your little scheme?”

“No, that you were Voldemort.”

The spirit snorted, obviously not believing a word of what Draco was saying. The young Malfoy went on, caring not for this lack of trust. “When I came back from Snape’s lab, I read demonology books. That’s when I discovered what was slowly killing me. I was surprised that someone as versed in dark magic as you were wouldn’t have heard of their total incompatibility and realised I was already specialised in demonology. I observed you for the weekend and concluded that you were aware of it. You were trying to kill me, alternating kind words and revelations on the Order’s betrayal, luring me into a well-prepared trap. And they all helped you unconsciously… Monday morning, you went to see what Snape was doing with this potion of his. I used the time you provided me to drink some duplication potion that I had left, and one half of me hid in Salazar’s lab. Then we went out. I wanted to make the lot of you pay at the same time. But I needed to bring my plan to perfection if I wanted to survive. I charmed a letter into going to Potter’s room. It is him that told me of your identity.”

“And Karnar?” inquired Tom almost unwillingly. His curiosity was getting the most of him. This plan had been so… witty… It was unnerving, how he’d been beat by this child.

“Karnar was to go to the castle as you had wished, but he wouldn’t have attempted killing Potter. He was to bring them to me if my life got too low. He’s my demon; he can find me wherever I am. But he didn’t need to… You’re strong and so intelligent. I almost lost this battle. But I’m not the only one who has weaknesses, Tom. And I know of yours.”

The spirit refrained from avoiding the clever grey eyes. “You said it on purpose. You knew Voldemort wouldn’t be able to see me…” The hatred and anger were still there, but his heart wasn’t anymore. He was Tom Marvolo Riddle, the future Lord Voldemort, the heir of Slytherin, and he had been tricked. With difficulties, he had gotten over his defeat of Potter: the Gryffindor had been helped by Dumbledore’s Phoenix. But Malfoy had been alone in his last moments. The fact that Potter had told him of his friend’s true identity didn’t count: it wouldn’t have changed the outcome. The simple boy had reversed this deadly situation to his advantage. He had discovered Tom’s weakness and used it at a very good moment. Fucking Malfoys.

Still, what shocked him the most wasn’t the set-up he had fallen in, it was this sentence: “ I won’t let him be harmed, especially by you.” Malfoys weren’t kind, or nice, or gentle, but there was such a protectiveness in the words and voice that a rush of he-didn’t-know-what swelled his heart.

“I didn’t know.” Draco smiled at the wide-eyes that followed his declaration. Indeed, he hadn’t been aware that Voldemort truly wouldn’t have been able to see Tom. “But since Potter couldn’t, and they’re linked, I wagered the dark lord couldn’t either.” It had been a good guess. Anyway, if there had been any problem, the life-stealing curse he had placed on Tom would have definitely destroyed the spirit, and maybe Voldemort with him, as they’re the same people. They’d all have joined in Hell. Not that they needed to know…

Even if Draco’s life wasn’t endangered anymore, a single night of sleep couldn’t regain one week of complete anaemia. His eyelids were getting heavier and his mind blurring. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the trunk and dozed off.

‘What is he doing?!’ wondered Tom with surprise, ‘He’s sleeping?! With me here? I could try to kill him!’ But when he considered it, his own mind denied him the act, and it wasn’t due to the working magical commitment.

o-

Dumbledore rubbed his temples. If the reunion had gone well while Draco had been present, with no demon left to make the police, it had rapidly degenerated after the boy’s departure. He had then observed the almost complete Order ranting on about Tom and had renounced intervening. Finally, he had had tea with Harry, Lucius, Remus, and Severus in a corner of his office and had immensely enjoyed his morning. Severus, on the contrary… The sight of the previously feared teacher had been harrowing and heartrending. Ah, Draco would have made many hearts bleed…

The Malfoy child hadn’t shown up for lunch, but Dumbledore had felt him sleeping in the courtyard. Unseen, he had discreetly cast a warming spell of the young body: the weather had been getting colder these last days. Despite what he wanted everyone to believe, Draco was still weak. He should be more careful about his own health.

At seven o’clock, the boy awoke, yawned, and stretched. He had slept well outside, breathing fresh air. Dumbledore felt the child enter the castle, getting booed by some Ravenclaw students and not understanding this reaction. Of course, Draco couldn’t know that, while he had been sleeping, the young Mr Weasley had ‘conveniently’ let slip the information that the heir of Slytherin was back. The Gryffindor hoped this way reactions of the parents would get Draco expelled. Ron naturally resented Draco; it was normal. The situation would have to be controlled. Dumbledore sighed. To send Draco away would be so very stupid and dangerous that he’d never do it. Fortunately, Harry and Hermione hadn’t such violent and extremist reactions. They were more thoughtful.

The Slytherin went up some flights of stairs and faced the Gargoyle of the headmaster’s office, probably wondering what stupid password the old man had chosen this time. Smiling, Dumbledore ordered the statue to move and give way to the boy. Some seconds after, Draco ventured into the office. It was rare that Slytherins willingly came there, and to witness one doing so felt like a relief to Dumbledore: he had never been able to help these children as he had wanted, mostly because they all were so engrossed in their parents’ ideals that no conversation would make them reconsider. But this one had, which proved there was more to Snakes than an awful temper and an overweening arrogance.

Dumbledore smiled at the child’s uneasiness. He saw the resistance to the urge to grip and finger his own robe’s tails. A second observation made him frown unnoticeably: Draco was rubbing his right index. Was he hurt? And what was this weak magic Dumbledore could feel emanating from the boy’s hand? He didn’t know much about demonology; could it be a secondary effect? This matter would have to be investigated later on…

“Would you have dinner with me?” the headmaster proposed, the everlasting gleam in his eyes. Students and teachers were dinning in the Great Hall, and he supposed Draco had no desire to go down and face his peers.

The Slytherin nodded faintly, and they took a place around the desk that was improvised as a dining table as supper appeared on it, kindness of the house-elves. The child’s face didn’t show any surprise at being invited to his headmaster’s table, but inside, he was all turmoil. The boy could be a nice one when he wanted. No wonder Remus and Severus had taken a liking to him. And Minerva was beginning to show a weak point for him: she had this tendency for people that rushed into danger… It was the reason why she was the Gryffindor’s head of house…

They ate in silence. Next to the window, Fumseck was preening its feathers, glancing at them from time to time. As they were having chocolate dairy ice cream, the Phoenix raised his head in a start and watched a moving spot from the door to Draco’s chair. Dumbledore and Draco looked at each other, the child knowing his elder was aware of what was going on.

“Does he like ice cream?” the headmaster asked with amusement. When Draco nodded, a third cup appeared on the table, and Dumbledore observed the child demon taking form, sitting on his master’s lap, eager tiny hands grasping the cup and spoon then devouring the ice cream. He chuckled. Who would imagine demons were so dangerous when they witnessed such a scene?

After a time, Draco focused intensively on a point of the desk and nibbled his upper lip in hesitation. “Thank you…” he finally let out, “For what you did for my father and me.”

Dumbledore smiled earnestly. It ought to have cost a lot. Draco was proud, and he didn’t like his headmaster any more than he had the past years. But maybe the boy could learn to tolerate him, just as Lucius had. And for that, Dumbledore thanked his long-time friendship with Severus: for years he had observed the Slytherins’ reactions and way of thoughts. He could handle one more… even if this one was a Malfoy demonist. The demonist part being more of a problem than the Malfoy one… Still, he was confident on the outcome of their relation.

“So…” Draco changed the subject, “What did you want with Azkaban’s prisoners?”

Ha. The boy was willing to help. It was a satisfying first step. “Do you know how Voldemort gains power from his death-eaters?” Dumbledore inquired back. He needed to discover what knowledge Draco possessed, and maybe he would gather some more information at the same time. He was vaguely aware of the means used but had never been able to go through the whole process, despite the information given by Severus and Lucius.

The boy nodded. “The same way I do with Karnar.”

That was interesting. He screwed his eyes in both appreciation and interest. The collaboration with Draco was already bearing fruits, and they had been talking for less than a minute. With a sign of the head, he invited the Slytherin to go on.

“He has to expend a large scale of energy to create the bond with a death-eater. The death-eater becomes more powerful by the link, and in exchange, he is to obey his master. Then, as time passes, Voldemort gains back his energy.” The boy used the dark lord’s name without apprehension. Voldemort was an adult version of Tom, and he had defeated the spirit.

“But how is it that some can betray him then?” Dumbledore was thinking of Snape here. If the death-eaters were forced into obeying the dark lord, why could some turn against him?

Draco smirked and the demon emitted a slightly dark laugh. “Because he is a mere dark wizard and not a demonist.”

Dumbledore frowned in surprise. Draco had been taught all his life by his father to discover his enemies’ weaknesses. Did Lucius notice how incredibly good Draco had become at this game?

“Dark magic consists in mastering human sacrificing rituals and all physical pain and distress with a wand. It never was a question of bonds. This is a demonist’s and ancient magic’s speciality. To use it still, he has to create the dark mark, and it can be countered.”

Dumbledore laughed out loud. Merlin, this child was incredible. If only he could get him to work again with Harry… “This is what you want to do?” asked Draco, “To make every death-eater abandon Voldemort?” The headmaster approved. The Slytherin became pensive, considering the idea. “It could be dangerous,” he disclosed, “If the death-eater has a strong desire of abandoning Voldemort, it works, but if a part of him hesitates, there’s the risk that it would deepen their bond, destroying the dark mark by the same way. It would render the both of them more powerful. Besides, you can’t kill the death-eaters either because it would give their energy to Voldemort.”

That was less good news… Dumbledore sighed. He would go to the prison and scan every prisoner’s mind. “By the way,” he said, “How did you enter Azkaban?”

Draco’s eyes darkened, and he looked elsewhere. “That’s my secret.” A secret he was ashamed of. Really… If his father knew, he would laugh at him! Hopefully, the man had been unconscious when Draco had taken him out and couldn’t remember the way they had taken.

Dumbledore smiled anew. He was certain it was something stupid, so stupid that no one had ever thought of it. And for Draco to look so disgraced, it had to be related to what purebloods were repulsed by: muggles. What had the child done? How had he tricked the prison’s wards and guards? And… how had he tricked him? “Then may I know how you made Lucius enter Hogwarts?”

“When you were out at the Ministry.”

Silence filled the office. Of course… Let’s forget the question. The child truly had been listening to them during the Christmas supper… And Dumbledore was the only one that could feel every person that passed the school’s gates. When Lucius had been inside Salazar’s lab, it had been too late… Dumbledore coughed slightly. It was embarrassing to have been bested so easily…

“And,” Draco changed the subject again, “thank you also for playing the game when I had the mark.”

Dumbledore hummed. “You gave me an important lesson that day.” One should beware of his allies as he does his enemies. One or many members of the Order were lending information to the aurors, and it had a connection with hatred against death-eaters. That could be almost everyone. This person had denounced Severus, then Draco. The same way, the information that the boy had become a demonist would soon be out. But since Dumbledore’s political situation couldn’t be much worse; he didn’t care. He would protect the boy.

When he had openly defended Lucius against the aurors’ accusation, a part of the population had looked at him with suspicion. He was protecting a known death-eater. If there was no proof left of Malfoy’s guilt, few were fooled. What if the old wizard was secretly joining the dark lord? Some versions were more interesting: Voldemort had killed Dumbledore and the Malfoys had replaced him by a marionette. No explanation would make them change, and the headmaster would need Harry’s help on this.

“Still,” Dumbledore recalled, “You should be more prudent. Your father is fragile.”

Draco sighed. “I know… But I fear this isn’t the last time…” Some of his projects would make him very powerful, but it wouldn’t be without stress and worry for the people that cared about him…

Dumbledore smiled. Poor Lucius…

“Do they possess a means to destroy Tom?” Draco suddenly inquired. He had sent the spirit away, to spy on the professors so that he’d know the examination questions in advance.

“No, except if they destroy Voldemort, maybe.” He didn’t know how nor exactly what, but Draco had gotten a power over the spirit, which meant Tom was temporarily harmless. He hadn’t spoken of it to anyone but such a situation, especially now that all the school was aware of Tom’s existence, could reveal an incredible advantage. He couldn’t save death-eaters against their will, but he could prevent others from becoming one.

It was getting late, and Draco surely had planned to visit Severus, or so Dumbledore hoped. He could spy on the boy’s mind to have confirmation, but Draco could react badly to the intrusion, was he to feel it. There was one more subject they needed to talk about.

“Draco,” he called for the child’s attention, “You’re aware of what being a demonist entails?”

The Slytherin sighed and took out his wand. “I am. But I chose it to be this way; I won’t change my mind…”

o-

Severus was once again standing at his cauldron, brewing whatever traversed his mind. He felt tired and jealous. Jealous of Lucius, whom Draco had forgiven. He was the boy’s father; Draco should resent him more for his treason! Or he could forget it quicker…

Still, Draco had accepted to work with him on the potion, it had to mean something… In a fit of rage, Severus smacked his hands on his worktable, spilling potion on it. Waiting and apprehension were ruining him. He went to grasp his wand and magically clean the place when his door opened. It was Draco, a smiling and forgiving Draco, and Snape’s heart jumped anew in his chest.

But Destiny had decided he wasn’t to feel relief so soon.

Severus got a telepathic call from Dumbledore. The headmaster asked for their presence. Aurors were here.

Anxious, Snape informed the boy of the situation. Draco simply said: “They were quicker than I foresaw…” But his eyes betrayed his fear. He had expected some time to master another demon; he had hoped for too much. They knew he was a demonist; it was enough to arrest him. They wouldn’t send him to Azkaban, for they ought to know he had a way of escaping. He had wanted to force the traitor out of the Order but had gotten caught at his own plan… One couldn’t win every time, he supposed. He wished they had no Occlumence with them.

They both headed to the office, and Draco thought he’d better stay there. That way, Snape wouldn’t have suffered again. The man’s face was blanching with each step. Draco had come to him, and another problem had struck.

He had never liked the Malfoys. For decades, he had been forced to obey Lucius’ orders because the high lord was superior to him in Voldemort’s ranks. But when he had awoken from his coma, he had been allowed no time to hate the Malfoy child. Draco was a Malfoy, but Snape liked the brat. And, raised by Lucius, he could have become much worse… Besides, Draco enjoyed Potions… In short, he had given up his revenge against the family. But what had been simple interest at the beginning had grown into uncontrollable fondness. He couldn’t bare the idea of the child in Azkaban, or worse…

Opening the door to the office, he saw Dars, flanked by three aurors. They had no proof yet but had come for an arrest anyway.

Dumbledore fumed inwardly. He had believed the pieces of information that got out were due to inattention. But that the aurors were informed so quickly of the last developments… there was a traitor in the Order.

Dars smirked at Snape’s crestfallen look. He had waited years to see that. Maybe he wouldn’t destroy the Potions Master, but he would have his revenge. Snape would suffer just as he had. And the Malfoys would never rise from the ruins he was preparing to make of their family.

“Draco Malfoy,” he read his arrest warrant, “You’ve been declared guilty of practising the dark arts, which is condemned by a life sentence in Azkaban. Exceptionally and due to extraordinary reasons, you will be taken to the Ministry and locked inside the Shadow World.”

Dumbledore blanched at the disproportionate condemnation. The Ministry was more rotten than he had believed if they could allow such an horror to happen. Once someone was sent in there, there was no way out. They were assured the boy would never be liberated, should Dumbledore have the support of the population back. “I wonder,” he said, “What proof do you have?”

Dars smirked again. “Didn’t he invoke a demon inside this very room, dear headmaster?”

“Technically, no, the demon was already there,” contradicted Draco. Dumbledore softly smiled at the declaration. The boy had understood what attitude he was to adopt. If Draco wanted to go on with his demonology studies, he had to accept the accusation. But they wouldn’t arrest him either.

“I hope your informer mentioned Tom Riddle’s presence too?” the headmaster recalled casually.

“They did, and this way, the spirit won’t have any contact left in the physical world.” The aurors’ plan seemed good. Except that…

“And do you know what will happen once Draco will be dead in the Shadow World? Because he will soon, just like everyone that fell in it,” Dumbledore went on.

Ha… No reaction… “Riddle will feed on his energy and take form. Do you want to be responsible for the massacre he will then perform?”

“This doesn’t fall within our competence,” hissed Dars. “But as you so kindly warned us, we will take care of that.”

“I don’t think you will,” cut through Draco. “Obviously you have no idea of a demonist’s power, just like the imbecile that supplied you with these pieces of information.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion, boy,” replied Dars, angry at all the interruptions. Severus was observing the scene with interest, alongside with the other aurors. The officials were dubious. What if what Dumbledore said was the truth? What if the death of the Malfoy child could liberate another Voldemort? Could they take the risk? They would have to find a place to lock the boy in and to insure he lived. But even this solution was destroyed…

“On our way to the office,” Draco explained, “I opened a gate to the Demonic World. Only my will is keeping the demons from launching in here. If you make the slightest move against me, I throw disaster on this world.”

‘Interesting menace,’ thought Dumbledore, amused, half-hoping it wasn’t a power Draco would truly develop later.

Dars was blanching, and Severus was restraining himself from jumping in joy at the reversal of the situation.

“And you seriously believe we trust you? No one has such a power as to open a gate between worlds!” raged the Auror, forgetting they had an audience.

Draco smirked. “Where do you think my little devil came from? But maybe you would like to interrogate me? Under Veritaserum, perhaps? Please, feel free; it will be my pleasure to describe to you how each demonic race would kill you. They have very interesting customs…”

Severus could hear the teeth clenching from metres away. The auror’s eyes were slowly tainting with blood as he understood he had lost. The officials departed without their prisoner. But this war wouldn’t stop there.

Little did they know that in the upcoming morning, the encounter would be narrated in every newspaper.

o-

Oblivious of the bad press they would be victim of very soon, Draco and Severus headed back for the Potions Master’s lab. They entered the professor’s apartments, smiling to their ears. It always was a good day when Slytherins tricked aurors. Snape went to a small sideboard and took out wine he kept for grand occasions. It was one. He served them two drinks and vaguely wondered if Lucius would approve… But who cared on this wonderful night?!

They took a place on the sofa and sipped the wine. Looking at each other, they burst into laughs.

“Ah, professor! It was incredible!” Draco had felt so good, making the aurors pay for a time. Why did they want to arrest him anyway? Probably to hurt his father…

“Yes. If only your lie had been true,” reminded Severus. Hopefully, there had been no Occlumence among the aurors.

“Why being so pessimistic, professor? It got out well! Besides, I truly can open a gate between the two worlds.” Though not one large enough to let a strong demon pass…

Severus eyed the child with surprise. It hadn’t been a lie?! But he could have sworn… “You’re a fool… Lupin is turning you into a Gryffindor.”

Draco choked in his glass and he looked at Snape with eyes like saucers. “No?!!!!!”

Severus chuckled. The child was a nice Slytherin.

“By the way, professor,” Draco had his devilish look again. “You owe me for your lies of last week.”

Snape sighed deeply. “I do.” But he didn’t care anymore. Draco had forgiven him; it was all that counted.

“Then, as an excuse, I want you to let me sleep here tonight.”

Snape frowned and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said: I want to sleep here tonight,” repeated the boy, not bothered at all by what he asked.

“Are you mad?” the professor murmured. “If someone learns of that, I’ll be sacked!”

“Then we’ll have to make sure no one does. It’s settled. Where do I sleep?” The boy put on his best ‘I’m a sweet angel’ face and Snape fumed. This child was the plague.

Giving in, Severus found a cot to transfigure and hesitated in proposing his bed to Draco. No way! The boy already invaded his room; it was enough. Snape wouldn’t be moved by… Merlin, those eyes….

To his horror, someone knocked at his door and, not waiting for an answer, entered the room. “Professor!” Draco immediately called, grinning like an imbecile at the newcomer. It could only be one person… “Lupin,” saluted Snape with a groan.

“I searched for you all evening,” the werewolf vaguely lectured the child. “Dumbledore told me of your feats.”

“Yeah!” Draco smiled. “It was great. Professor Snape is letting me sleep here tonight,” he said, proud of his achievement against the professor’s resistance.

Remus arched an eyebrow, amused. So, Draco enjoyed company… In front of them, Severus remained agape. “What did I just tell you, you imbecile?!”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That it could get you sacked and bla bla bla. But professor Lupin is a friend. There’s no risk!”

“Draco’s right,” Remus said with a kind voice. “There’s no risk. I’m not a Slytherin, I wouldn’t denounce you, especially to avenge you getting me sacked four years ago, hum?…”

Severus blanched noticeably. “You wouldn’t dare…”

And Remus smirked.


End of Chapter 5.