Icarus Syndrome

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Beta: This Chapter was only partially beta-ed by bcandii.

NOTICE: I am in the market for a new beta! Bcandii has taken a leave and I need an individual to take her place. Benefits include reading Icarus Syndrome before it is posted in its raw and unfiltered form, possibly contributing ideas, definitely contributing knowledge and being my all around sound board. Please PM me if you're interested. I promise I don't bite.
Warnings: I am taking liberties with magic, both wand and wandless. Please keep an open mind. Brutus Malfoy is also a credible character found in the HPWiki. Brutus Scrimgeour is also found in the HPWiki. If you're very astute, you'll already have an idea of what's going on. Atlanta is a character of Greek mythology. The Mirrors are lifted from The 10th Kingdom by Katheryn Wesley. They have no names but I've followed the tradition of Rowling in naming mirrors.

Thank you, dear readers, for the hits, reviews, alerts and favorites. An author loves to know their work is appreciated. I am impressed so far by the amount of attention this has garnered so far. Please keep it up. Seriously, keep it! I love to read reviews!

-X-

Severus placed the brandy back on the small table, smoothing out the letter he received from Narcissa. The fire flickered menacingly along the wall and it reflected his mood perfectly. Her scrawl was familiar with all the right signal phrases and codewords. What wasn't expected was the disgustingly desperate plea.

Narcissa was a cold woman. Her son was the only exception to that cold. He wasn't so foolish as to believe that she loved her husband more than her son. Narcissa was the only one he ever knew Lucius to be truly terrified of. Not even the Dark Lord could reduce the proud pureblood to such a state of panic and terror as the day Narcissa learned he'd physically abused his heir. She knew the pureblood ways and he was certain that Narcissa would have killed Lucius if he had struck Draco. Draco the Malfoy Scion was out of her reach, but now he was firmly out of Lucius'.

Severus scowled at the parchment. Narcissa was very demanding that he stay out of her way and lay no vengeance against Lucius. She promised that he would be dealt with. She warned him against speaking of this to Draco. It was insulting that she thought he would be so stupid. Draco was forever loyal to his father to the point of death, and if he died by his father's hand, he would go all the merrier. It was sickeningly Hufflepuff type loyalty.

He laid aside the letter and brought the brandy glass back to his lips. So many possibilities. Draco was the victim of a curse that exiled him from his family, plagued him with memories and sent him tumbling into the arms of the Savior. Why Lucius wasn't already roasting in hell deserved to be contemplated. Narcissa punished lesser trespasses with far more hostility. As far as he could tell, she was still in the Manor and at Lucius' side.

Something was wrong here. He knew Icarus' Curse fairly well but there must be something he was missing. Narcissa was a terrifying woman when her child was threatened. She wouldn't stay with the man who harmed him so severely. He bared his teeth angrily and slammed the glass down. His mother's library would have more than adequate information about Icarus' Curse. He tossed a handful of Floo Powder into the fire and strode sharply into flames.

“Spinner's End!” He hissed, letting the magic carry him away.

-X-

“There's nothing here.” He whispered, fanning the pages describing the curse back and forth. The tray the elves brought his food on was sitting in the chair empty. Dumbledore's book of myths was on the small table where he'd left it. “Nothing.”

There wasn't any mention about the curse effecting his magic. Nothing explained why it was so completely out of his control. It still terrified him to look at his scars, afraid that any emotion would have his magic spilling out, possibly killing him. Magic wasn't supposed to be visible and unfettered when not funneled through a wand. Wandless magic was an invisible force, if done correctly. Wands channeled magic, gave it color and focused the power sent through. Magic like his was unnatural.

His body ached from being forced in this bed for so long. Fear gave his body strength and desperation nipped at his heels, as insistent as a small child. The walls loomed over him, pressing in from every side. He couldn't sit here any longer.

He let the book clatter to the floor, tossing the covers aside as he went. He'd have to nick some proper robes elsewhere. He was too visible to remain in the hospital pajamas. Hopefully, there wasn't a ward set on the door. He couldn't chance anything effecting his magic until he had an explanation and could get it back under his control.

Draco eased the door open and scanned the room. Pomfrey wasn't about, so he took the chance to slip into the room and to the main door. If he remembered right, the house elves stocked spare unmarked uniforms in the cabinet about three feet to the left of the door which would be...here. He grabbed a uniform and stripped where he was standing, stuffing the pajamas into the cabinet. It wasn't a great fit, but it would serve while he found somewhere with fresh air to breath and think.

He exited the Hospital Wing and began to descend the stairs. He wanted ground under his feet, the space to move and an open sky over his head. He walked carefully, all to aware that the harshest step would alert portraits and Filch to his presence. He scarcely breathed as he found a hallway that blew a night-scented breeze his direction. He glanced at the hallway, seeing steps descend further into shadows, and toward the corridor that lead to a grassy knoll outside and turned toward the new passage. He couldn't remember seeing it before.

He began to walk down the passage, seeing windows ahead and moving quickly toward the light. He never noticed the castle wall slide into place behind him and the portrait that settled into place when the wall descended. A proud woman sat staring at the sea. She never moved, but simply sat still as if she were a muggle painting.

-X-

Brutus Malfoy had once been an honorable and respectable man. But he was too enthralled with writing, too modern for his family. Brutus is still considered the greatest of all the fallen Malfoy. His story is whispered to young heirs who could possibly threaten the Malfoy lineage.

“Fallen in love with books and Mudbloods.” Their fathers would hiss into their ears when their eyes lingered too long over children of lesser status. “He was exiled, striped of all but the blood in his veins.”

The children would shiver, averting their eyes and obeying their fathers in all things. Each would wonder if the story were true. Each would hunt for Brutus Malfoy in the lineage tree which could never be fooled, as long as the blood remained in the family. Those who lived in exile would have their names bled red and the tree would simply end.

Lucius could remember finding that sacred family tree. He even found Brutus' name, ran his fingers over the red script.

He stood staring at that damned tree and wondered how his ancestors could ever be so stupid. Brutus Malfoy was forever bled red, but his lineage was carried into the tree.

Brutus Malfoy changed his name. He married a pureblood witch, for all that he proclaimed to love a Mudblood. He began the Scrimgeour lineage by taking her name, no longer wanting association with the family that cast him out. He wrote The Beater's Bible, and lived his quaint and humble life, forever devoted to the light. He spoke of Dark magic as a taint, spewed forth disgust at all wizards who wielded it, most especially against the Malfoy family. He passed his intolerance through each of his children, their children and their children's children. Stories passed through the Scrimgeour blood spoke of a prideful and devoted man. Each child was impressed to follow his example.

“He is forever devouted to the light and to goodness.” Mothers would whisper as they tucked their children into bed. “Deny darkness. Follow his example and you can only do right in the world.”

Children would smile and fall asleep, dreaming of being a leader in the light as Grandfather Brutus.

Rufus heard these stories. He remembered standing before the family tree, digging through file after file, journal after journal, looking for Brutus. It was in the Ministry files. On his marriage license, it read in clear script “Brutus Malfoy-Scrimgeour.”

He traced the elegant script and wondered how his ancestors were ever so stupid. Brutus was never formally exiled by the magic. Malfoys exiled in name alone. They were foolish and stupid. There was a map to the riches of kings in his blood.

The Ministry would flounder without money to support it. There was simply no money coming in. The War had destroyed much of the economy which fed the Ministry. With no money, he was hard pressed to pay employees, fund organizations and move the Wizarding world through rough times.

The Malfoy family was the only one with enough political, financial and magical force. No one would defend them either. They were associated with the Dark, with Death Eaters, and there were too many enemies. No one would object if the Malfoy family lost an Heir. It was why he threatened them in the first place. Their young child, Draco, was irredeemably a Death Eater and devout to the Dark. He had undeniable evidence that the boy was a loyal supporter. A single word in the right ear would lose the Malfoys their child, prestige and money.

That was why he threatened them in the shadows. It would look shifty, even to those who despised them, if the Malfoy suddenly lost everything. They could keep up the facade. He would strip them of all else. If they chose to fight him, he would take everything including the soul of their son.

It was a question of the Ministry or a Dark Death Eater child. He was loyal to both the Light and the Law. It was obvious what he would choose.

-X-

Draco entered the hallway, looking around at the windows. The moon was bright and full overhead and it filled the entire hallway with silver light. He could see portraits tucked away, but they were all empty. He was careful as he walked down the hall, anxious to see Mrs. Norris or Filch stalking toward him. He hugged the robe tighter around his body and pressed into the shadowy wall.

Stairs rose from the ground and spiraled downward. He hesitated before descending them, letting his hand trail down the walls. He reached the end sooner than expected, pausing right before the exit. Blue light washed back and forth like waves, pulsating. He took a breath and exited the staircase.

Blue windows made to look like a river rippled, making the light in the room move hypnotically. The ceiling arched upwards, but the center was removed. Cool air washed over him and ruffled the willow tree that was bowed over in the corner. There were stone benches arranged in a circle in the center of the room, grass kept close and a few statues in various poses.

“Try the mirrors!”

Draco whirled on his heel, terrified until his eyes settled on a statue. It was smiling and pointing over toward the stone benches. He realized that there were mirrors arranged around them and they were casting light over the entire room. He couldn't remember seeing them when he entered though.

“Well go on! Try the mirrors!”

“Who are you?” He approached the statue instead, frowning as the statue stomped and crossed its arms.

“Do they teach nothing in this school? I'm a historical figure young man!” As he moved closer, he realized it was a woman, dressed in hunting gear.

“I'm sorry. My history class is more concerned with the goblin wars.”

“Goblins.” She flicked her hands and threw back her shoulders to stand straight. “They are foolish creatures. I may as well introduce myself then. I am Atlanta, huntress of Artemis and swiftest runner in all the land.”

He felt as if he had been struck by lightning. He remembered reading about her.

“Weren't you tricked into marrying Hippomenes?”

“I was outwitted in a contest. I do not consider that cheating.” She said as she arched her brows.

“But he received Golden Apples from Aphrodite and bewitched you into taking them!” He said.

“There were no rules to the contest. You could only say that perhaps I had competed with Gryffindors with typical Gryffindor honor. Or with A Hufflepuff and a Hufflepuff's typical loyalty to rules. Or with a Ravenclaw and a Ravenclaw's typical devotion to black and white knowledge. ” She suddenly leaned down and smiled at him. “But it was a Slytherin's cunning that won the race. I can't say that I am unhappy with that.”

“I guess.” He said, sighing.

“You must be a Slytherin.”

He gave her a confused stare that only made her smile and tilt further down to him.

“Slytherins can never see the appeal themselves. You are as convinced as the rest that you are evil and dark and must be only with someone who will understand your motives.” She shook her head. “I have met many Slytherins. They always argue.”

“What is this place then? I've never even heard of it and I have heard many stories.”

“This is where the mirrors are.” She shrugged. “It only appears to those who need to see them. Use them.”

“I've known many mirrors.” He said, thinking of the Mirror of Erised. “Are they safe?”

“Maybe or maybe not. It depends on which appear.”

“I guess...”

“Use them.” She urged. “You must need them.”

“Yes. I will.”

He nodded at her and at the other statues that moved to watch him. None of them were as kind as Atlanta. The mirrors gleamed as he approached.

“Don't fall for that innocent shine. These are dangerous artifacts. In fact, that one is the Mirror to Travel.” He started again as a creature came out from the bench, stretching out to full height. His mouth dropped open as he saw a stone ferret statue sit on the bench. It twitched his nose at him. “Mirror to Spy. Mirror to Remember. Mirror to Forget. Mirror to Rule the World.”

“Really? Rule the World?” He approached one and reached out a hand. The edge was a giant serpent twined around the glass. It's mouth was bitten deep into the glass but it twitched threateningly as his hand approached.

“Don't touch them!” The ferret jumped at him, climbing up to his shoulders. “You'll lose your soul if you touch the glass!”

His hand drew up short.

“That's not the Mirror of Elur. This would be the Mirror of Rotinom. You can watch anyone at anytime. Wards and secrecy spells mean nothing.”

“Why aren't they used all the time then?” He asked the ferret as it settled around his shoulders. The heavy weight didn't seem to press on his scars at all which was unsettling.

“This room is not for general use. It is special. It is personal. It will only appear when the individual inside needs it. The Mirrors will help heal souls if nothing else will work.”

“Could I ever find it again if I leave?” He asked as he began to slowly circle the mirrors.

“No.” The ferret tugged his ear and pointed with its paw towards the exit. “If you go up the stairs you will forget how to find this place again. The room protects itself. If you want to heal, you cannot leave.”

“How will I heal then?! I can't stay here forever! I will be missed!”

“That is not my decision.”

He stopped and thought carefully.

“Could I send a note?”

The ferret remained silent.

“Well? Could I?”

“The room...does not like others to find it. It is likely that if you sent a note, it will never appear to those to whom you wish to send it.”

The ferret tugged at his ear again and pointed at a silver edged mirror.

“This is the Mirror you must use. It calls.”

He stared at it. It was still but did not show his face.

“This is the Mirror of Eviver. It will reflect your memories.”

“I don't want to see those!” He turned away quickly, afraid it would reflect his father back toward him, spewing hatred again. The ferret simply stirred, but tugged and pointed again.

“You could use the Mirror of Rotinom. None of the others would help.”

“What about the one to forget? I would like to forget many things.”

“It will only show what has been forgotten. You never truly lose memories. It can only harm you if you should try. Never forget that these Mirrors are dangerous.”

Draco nodded and made his way back to the snake mirror. It opened its eyes as he sat on the bench and its lips pulled back to show the fangs bit deep in the glass.

“Tell the Mirror who you wish to see.” The ferret hissed.

“Mirror, show me...” He trailed away, unsure who he should look upon.

“Quickly! If you are not polite and swift, it will decide for you!”

“Show me Harry Potter, please!”

The snake smiled broadly. The glass splinted and swirled, color spilling into the glass.