The Reluctant Helper
There was no denying the differences she saw in Harry. When they had first met on their very first train journey to Hogwarts, he had been a rather meek and unassuming boy; very little of what she had expected when she’d heard his name whispered by the other students who’d been hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
Harry Potter, the-boy-who-lived had not been an arrogant, egotistical, stuck-up celebrity, but a shy, quietly-suffering, but brave boy she had come to admire.
It was Harry who’d become her first friend, who had suffered more than any other she’d ever met over the years she’d known him.
She had watched him endure learning that the man who’d murdered yet lived in the form of Professor Quirrell, how he’d been ostracised for being a parselmouth, and yet, rose to the occasion to save Ginny from the Chamber of Secrets.
Hermione had seen him spend the better part of a year believing that Sirius had escaped from Azkaban to murder him after betraying his parents to the Dark Lord, and how Harry had saved his own life and that of his godfather with perhaps the most incredible display of magic she’d ever witnessed.
In fourth year, he’d been all but forced to compete in the Triwizard Tournament, again being ostracised by most within the castle who believed he’d entered himself, how he had tackled each task as remarkably and admirably, even more so than those who had chosen to compete.
She had witnessed his return from whatever it was he’d experienced during the aftermath of the third task, how he’d arrived back at Hogwarts having been tortured and managing to escape Voldemort’s clutches with the lifeless body of Cedric Diggory.
Once more, Hary had found himself ridiculed by his peers following the incident and even endured the Ministry of Magic’s smear campaign against him, along with the presence of Dolores Umbridge.
From there, he had witnessed his godfather, the last person he had resembling family being murdered in front of his eyes before once again facing off with the Dark Lord.
How Harry retained his decency having suffered so much, she did not know, but the latest of those capers had irrevocably changed him. It had changed all of them, but Harry mostly.
“The room of requirement? We’ve not been having the meetings this year. We tried, but only a few people turned up for the first one, and when they realised you wouldn’t be doing it, well, there hasn’t been any interest in it.”
“So, you haven’t been using the room?”
Hermione shook her head.
“No, there doesn’t seem any point when we don’t have to hide anymore. Why?”
“I don’t know, but I saw Malfoy trying to access it.”
“Why would he…?”
“Exactly,” Harry sighed. “He’s up to something, Hermione. I know he’s a fucking idiot for the most part, but…”
He broke off and shook his head.
“He’s been too quiet this year.”
“And he doesn’t look very well.”
“He doesn’t?”
“No, it’s like he’s sick, and he’s been missing a lot of classes. I imagine what happened to his father is playing on his mind.”
“But Lucius isn’t stuck in Azkaban,” Harry pointed out.
Hermione frowned thoughtfully.
She hadn’t given much consideration to Draco. She’d assumed he was just keeping his head down since his father’s allegiance had been revealed, but now she thought about it, it didn’t make sense.
Only last year, he’d been insufferably arrogant about the Dark Lord’s return, and this year, he couldn’t be any more subdued.
“Maybe,” she conceded, “but what can Draco be up to?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to be watching the git closely.”
That had been the end of the conversation, and although she doubted Voldemort would rely on the boy for anything, Hermione too had been watching him on the rare occasion he made an appearance.
He truly did look sickly.
He’d lost considerable weight, his hair was lank and skin clammy, and the dark circles around his fearful eyes spoke of a lack of sleep.
Maybe Harry was right. Maybe, just maybe, Draco was up to something.
“Are you going to eat that sausage?” Ron asked.
Hemione shook her head, and he grinned as he speared onto the end of his fork.
Ron too had changed since he’d been dating Lavender Brown, though these days, he seemed to be spending all of his time trying to avoid her since they’d returned from the Christmas break.
Still, she was pleased to see that he was throwing himself into the responsibility of being the Quidditch captain in Katie’s absence.
He certainly took it more seriously than his prefect duties, and although the three of them, she, Ron, and Harry, were spending noticeably less time together as they began pursuing their own things, she still considered them both her closest friends.
“You know, if looks could kill, half of the Slytherin table would be dead,” she murmured, nudging the glaring Harry with her elbow.
He shook his head.
“That might still happen if they decide to join him.”
It wasn’t his words that necessarily disturbed Hermione, but the casualness with which he spoke. She understood they were at war, Harry more than anyone else, but it was so difficult to see that young, meek boy she’d met during that train journey to the castle.
No, he had indeed changed so much over the years. They had hardened him in ways that no child should become, but Hermione truly understood.
All he’d endured, the adversity, the isolation, the suffering, and the losses were bound to have left a mark on him, and they had.
Harry was not that same boy she had met, and though she worried about him and what was to come, Hermione Granger still only admired him, just as much as she worried about him.
(Break)
He would never deny that Potter wasn’t a talented wizard. Of course, he was barely short of abysmal when it came to potions, but his wandwork had proven to be quite something since the two of them had begun working together.
His instincts, although often sloppy were truly exceptional. It was something that could not be taught, and with all he could be, the boy, much to his surprise, had been making astounding progress.
Now, however, as he cast curse upon curse towards him, it was as though he’d been switched overnight, that a truly incredible wizard was standing in Potter’s place.
Oh, his instincts were still as sharp as ever, but it was how he now flowed whilst defending himself, seamlessly and without relying so much on them as he had in an often brash and jerky display.
No, he was not merely relying on them but using them along with this newfound ability at protecting himself from whatever was sent his way. Severus was even certain that the damned fool was closing his eyes from time to time, feeling the magic surrounding him.
That in itself was a truly advanced skill to master, something most could never hope to do.
Severus liked to think that his own grasp on it was beyond the norm, and Dumbledore’s much more distinct than any other in the art, but it seemed that Potter had somehow mastered it overnight.
“Enough,” he instructed, allowing his wand to fall to his side. “What are you doing, Potter?”
“Trusting my magic.”
“Trusting your magic?”
The boy nodded.
“I’m listening to it, and it is telling me how to react to your spells. I can feel what they are.”
Severus quirked an eyebrow at him before snapping his wand upwards only to watch his trio of spells be batted aside.
“That will be a most invaluable skill for you to possess. The Dark Lord is a truly incredible wizard, but he is not flawless. He allows his emotions to lead him, especially when he is fighting. At the very least, you will be able to prevent yourself from being killed but killing him is another matter entirely. His own defences are as close to perfect as can be.”
Potter nodded and Severus eyed the boy speculatively.
He was truly listening.
As much as Severus wanted to despise the boy, for him to be just like the man he resembled so uncannily, there was little of James Potter in him, but there wasn’t much of his mother either.
The eyes were all hers, and maybe he did possess her tenacity, but there was a lack of warmth in his eyes, that very same lacking he’d shown when he’d set a trap within Petunia’s home.
“You do not seem so troubled by the thought of killing him.”
Potter shrugged.
“He won’t be the next, the first, or the last. I killed Quirrell when I was eleven, and you clearly know about Crabbe and Goyle. I didn’t leave that surprise there for fun. I would’ve killed Pettigrew at the end of the tournament if I had the chance, and Bellatrix if Tom didn’t arrive in the Ministry. It’s either them or me, isn’t it.”
Severus nodded his agreement.
No, Potter was not like either James or Lily, though he would not put it past the former to have killed him if given the chance.
Their son was different, conditioned for war, and had grown up living in the shadow of it before being thrown back into the darkness itself.
Not only was he conditioned for it, but he had also shown a cunning that had served him well. He’d certainly surprised Severus more than once.
“There is a shrewdness to you that I did not expect.”
The boy snorted.
“If you knew half of what I’d gotten up to since I arrived here, you’d want me expelled. I suppose the hat was right.”
“The hat?”
The boy smirked.
“If I hadn’t have protested, I would’ve been put into Slytherin. I had to beg it to put me anywhere else.”
Severus scoffed and then shuddered at the very thought.
The Quidditch team would certainly have benefited from Potter’s placement, but everything else would’ve been an unmitigated disaster. He could only imagine the power struggle that would’ve existed, and now, the rift that would’ve formed.
“Then I am grateful for your pleading,” Severus replied dryly.
Potter chuckled, though his expression formed into a frown.
“Do you know what Malfoy is doing?”
Severus was taken aback by the question and schooled his features to ensure he showed none of the surprise.
“Mr Malfoy?”
“He’s sneaking around the castle a lot, and spending time on the seventh floor. Dumbledore obviously suspects him of something because he’s following him around.”
Perhaps Potter was a little too astute for his own good. How he was aware that Albus was following Draco, he did not know, but evidently, the headmaster was unaware of it too.
“I expect he has his reasons for following Draco, but he has not made me privy to them.”
It was clear that Potter did not believe him but knew better than to press the matter. Still, it was something to keep an eye on. If the boy was to become aware of what Draco was doing and had already done, the situation would become very ugly very quickly.
He watched as Dumbledore ruminated on all he’d been told, gently tugging at his beard before releasing a deep breath.
“He has made remarkable progress,” he declared. “I tested him only last night on his ability to identify different types of magic. I did not expect he would become so proficient so quickly, but he did have the benefit of working with the two of us.”
Severus nodded as Albus frowned once more.
“As for Draco, I have been watching him closely, Severus. The boy has indeed become rather desperate, and I fear he will do something else foolish. More so, I fear that Harry will begin to put the pieces together of why he is being watched. If he even suspects..”
“Then Draco is in danger.”
“Indeed,” Albus sighed tiredly. “I suppose I must either discuss the matter and explain it, or I must ensure Mr Malfoy is gone from the castle before Mr Potter discovers his part in what happened to Miss Bell.”
“Headmaster, the only correct course of action is to get Draco out of the castle, for your sake and his. Just because you are dying, you do not have to be so damned noble in a bid to spare the boy. The Dark Lord will kill him if he fails, and Potter will kill him when he inevitably discovers the truth. Draco’s fate was the sealed the moment Lucius failed to obtain the prophecy.”
The headmaster deflated.
“I had hoped I could prevent at least one more disaster,” he murmured.
“Much like Potter, you cannot save everyone.”
“No, I fear I cannot,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “Oh, how I wish I could go back to that Halloween night.”
“What would you do differently?”
“I would see that Sirius did the right thing by Harry to begin with.”
“I hardly think being raised by Black would’ve done him any favours. The man was irrational at best, and Potter would be far from the boy he is now. You may not like it, Albus, and I know that Lily wouldn’t either, but Potter is exactly what he needs to be if there is any chance of him defeating the Dark Lord.”
Dumbledore conceded the point with a nod.
“I suppose it is too much to wish that things could’ve been different in many ways. It is not until we find ourselves on the cusp of passing on that we truly understand the impact of our errors where others are concerned.”
“You did the best you could.”
“I always did, but sometimes, our best just isn’t good enough, Severus. You know that as well as any.”
“Do you think Potter’s will be?”
“Yes,” Albus answered without hesitation. “I just wish that the path he finds himself on had not left him so jaded.”
“It is war, Albus. Blood will be spilled, and the only thing we can hope for is that it is not of those too valuable to lose. You have protected the boy, and despite everything, he has somehow become somewhat prepared for what is coming. I do not know if he can win, but the more time I spend with him, and the more I see, I do not believe him to be an entirely lost cause.”
“That is high praise coming from you.”
Severus frowned as he stood.
“You must decide on what you will do with Mr Malfoy. Regardless, there will be fallout you must be prepared to accept.”
“Any suggestions would be most appreciated. You know Draco better than anyone else.”
“He will not cooperate,” Severus replied with a shake of his head. “Unless Lucius tells him to do so, he will continue on his own path, and if he believes Narcissa is in danger…”
He broke off as the impossibility of the situation became apparent.
“Unless you are willing to use subterfuge to your advantage. Draco will be quite wroth when it is all over, but not everyone will have to suffer.”
“You have a plan, Severus?”
“Not one I am pleased with, but yes, I have an idea that we may be able to work with.”
“Then I am all ears,” Dumbledore replied expectantly, leaning back in his chair whilst Severus already regretted speaking his thoughts.
His plan was risky, and perhaps downright foolish, but it might just save two lives.
(Break)
He checked his reflection for the dozenth time knowing that a man who’d lived for more than five hundred years would not care about such things, but Albus wished to make the very best impression he could on who he hoped would be his mentor.
“You look very handsome, Albus,” his mother complimented, eliciting a snicker from Abe, who was elbowed by Ariana.
“I’m just nervous.”
“You are a brilliant young man, and Nicholas Flamel will see that for himself. Just look at your NEWT results. They are among the very best ever recorded.”
He smiled proudly.
Albus had worked exceedingly hard to impress the examiners, and he had done just that. Over the course of the summer, he’d received job offers from just about every department of the Ministry of Magic, offers of apprenticeships from masters in every corner of the globe, and even a letter from the Minister of Magic himself congratulating him on his excellent results.
Truthfully, it had been rather overwhelming, and yet, Albus knew he had earned it.
Now, it seemed that the world was indeed his oyster, but even with so many offers from so many incredible men and women, there was still one he wished to work with.
Alchemy was a most challenging subject to pursue, and that was exactly what Albus was looking for.
Oh, he’d already made arrangements with Professor Weasley to complete a mastery in Transfiguration under her, and the woman had readily accepted him as her protégé.
Even so, Albus had been completing mastery level work since his fourth year at Hogwarts, and even Professor Weasley had openly admitted there was little else she could teach him.
Already, he’d surpassed her in many ways, and his award of his mastery was a given upon completion of a thesis and demonstrating something new in the field.
Albus had not spoken of it to any yet, but much of the work was already done, so, it was only a matter of finishing it before his training was complete.
“Remember your manners, Albus, and thank Mr Flamel for his time.”
“Why? It’s not like he hasn’t got as much as he wants to waste, is it?” Abe snickered.
Ariana elbowed him once more, and he ruffled the girl’s hair.
The two of them had gotten closer over the course of the summer.
Ariana had all but demanded he shares every single lesson he’d learned at Hogwarts, and Aberforth had only been too happy to oblige. Were it not for his own budding friendship with the enigmatic Gellert Grindelwald, Albus might be a little envious of the closeness developing between his siblings, though he suspected it was partly his own friendship that had made it happen.
Aberforth did not seem to like Gellert much.
On the few occasions he had opted to join them, he’d been quiet, and even uneasy around the young man. Why that was, Albus did not know, but even Gellert was standoffish with Abe.
Maybe he should discuss it with them, but for now, he needed to focus on his impending meeting with Nicholas Flamel.
“It’s time,” he declared excitedly, checking his reflection again, and managing to offer his family a wave before he was whisked away via portkey.
Much to his surprise, it was a greenhouse he arrived in, and as he did so, he felt himself seized tightly by the thick, spiny limbs of a particularly vicious plant.
Before he could panic, however, the grip of the plant slackened enough so that he could breathe, and Albus found himself staring into a piercing pair of blue eyes.
“Forgive me for my caution, Albus,” the ancient man they belonged to spoke amusedly, “but a man in my position can never be too careful. There are many who would sink to unspeakable levels to obtain my creation.”
Albus nodded, his breathing laboured from the sudden influx of adrenaline.
“Now, if you do not mind, I just have a few questions for you. Would you be kind enough to open your mouth? It is just veritaserum. I would have us share a frank conversation.”
Albus swallowed deeply before doing so.
He had nothing to hide, after all, and he certainly did not wish to possess the philosopher’s stone. No, he had no desire to achieve immortality, especially if he ended up resembling the man before him.
He felt his mind become rather foggy less than a moment after the drops of the brew were placed on his tongue.
“What is your name?”
“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore,” he answered even before he could think about the question.
“What are your intentions when working with me?”
“To discover the uses of dragon’s blood in the study of Alchemy and potions.”
Flamel hummed approvingly.
“Will you attempt to steal the philosopher’s stone from me?”
“No.”
“Will you attempt to harm me or my wife, Perenelle?”
“No.”
“Have you ever kissed a girl?”
“No.”
It was an amused chortle from Nicholas that cleared his mind, and Albus scowled at the man.
“Just my own little bit of fun,” Nicholas said dismissively as he freed him from the grasp of the plant. “It is nice to put a face to the name, Albus. My, you have impressed many people with your exemplary exam results. Yes, you have a keen mind, but it takes more than that to truly become a master in the art of Alchemy. Now, whether you possess that brilliance remains to be seen. Come. Perenelle has prepared a light lunch with us so that we may discuss our endeavours together.”
Albus could only nod in response.
The meeting thus far had not gone how he’d anticipated, and Nicholas Flamel certainly wasn’t what he’d expected.
Still, he was here now, and if the man proved to be half as brilliant as Albus suspected, the indignity he’d suffered upon his arrival would indeed have been worth it.
(Break)
He had been watching the map closely, even more so after his conversation with Snape. Despite the man truly going out of his way to help Harry, he did not doubt he had his own agenda for doing so. No, Severus Snape did not do things out of the goodness of his heart, and the amount of secrets, the life he lived and how he’d treated Hary all these years were not things he would forget.
His parents had made the mistake of trusting someone who’d appeared to be a friend to them to their detriment, and Harry would not make the same mistake.
Even so, he’d not seen Snape and Draco conversing. If anything, it was as though the two of them were avoiding each other.
Than itself was rather odd and given Harry’s observations of the blonde since he’d aroused his suspicions, it made even less sense.
Draco was skipping classes, was scarcely in the Great hall, but Harry had seen him from time to time vanish into the kitchens. His strange behaviour as yet remained unexplained, and that did not sit right with him.
Still, it wasn’t as though he did not have other things to occupy his thoughts, most maudlin, but others proving to be good news.
He smiled as he folded away the letter he’d received from Remus, who had moved into his home after completing the renovations with the promise that Harry would be the first to be invited to see it.
Equally as welcome was that come tomorrow, he would finally be learning to apparate, and he was pleased that, if all went well, he would no longer need to get The Knight Bus to navigate his way around Britain.
He shuddered at the thought of it, frowning as he spotted Draco once again leaving the seventh floor, his interest only growing as he was accosted by Dumbledore, and the two of them made their way towards his office.
Had the headmaster finally discovered what he wished to?
Harry didn’t know, but as he followed the dot of Severus Snape joining the two of them only a few moments later, he knew that something was amiss.
According to Hermione, Malfoy had been acting strangely all year, and she evidently did not believe he was merely keeping a low profile in the midst of Lucius’s arrest. No, there was more to it than that, and Harry would have the truth of the matter.
Dumbledore, it seemed, nor Snape were willing to share it with him, but perhaps Malfoy would. Perhaps he’d be more inclined to do so when he wasn’t given much choice in the matter.
“That is a familiar expression,” Ignotus spoke, breaking into his thoughts. “Antioch was known for sporting it when someone had wronged him.”
Harry shook his head.
“Malfoy has been wronging me since the day I met him, but this is different. I don’t know what it is, but I will,” he vowed.
(Break)
“You’re not a killer, Draco,” Albus said calmly as he stared down the shaft of the wand pointed at him.
The young man’s hand was trembling, but it wasn’t anger or determination he saw in his eyes, but fear. Draco Malfoy was terrified and found himself trapped in a corner he did not know how to get out of.
“You don’t know that!” he protested.
Albus shook his head.
“Your attempt with the necklace was foolish, and you are fortunate that Miss Bell was not killed. Poisoning the mead could’ve been much more problematic had Professor Slughorn not detected it. Draco, your heart is not in it or I would already be dead. You have me at your mercy, no?”
His hand continued to tremble, and he whimpered as he was relieved of it by the arriving Severus.
“Stupid boy,” he chided.
Draco was a mixture of angry and confused, his gaze fliting between the two men.
“You told him!” he hissed.
“I did not need to tell him,” Severus denied. “Your efforts have been nothing short of disastrous.”
Draco stared at Severus as though he’d been betrayed.
“You’re a traitor!”
Severus shook his head.
“I am doing what your father is unable to do,” he hissed. “I am your godfather, Draco, and it is my duty to protect you. You do not understand the position you are in.”
“He’ll kill me!”
“And if you were successful in your foolish attempts, you would either be in Azkaban, at the Dark Lord’s mercy, or dead. You were never meant to succeed, Draco. This was nothing but a punishment for your father and an excuse for the Dark Lord to kill him.”
Draco deflated as he choked back a sob.
“This is your one chance, Draco,” Albus broke in. “Your position is not an enviable one, but you are a man and must be held responsible for your actions. I can only protect you as much as you allow me. You have only two choices, but as of now, you are no longer a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
It was as though he’d been slapped, and Draco choked back another sob as he collapsed into a nearby chair, placing his head in his hands.
“If you are unwilling to cooperate, I will send for the aurors, and you will answer for your crimes immediately. I have more than enough evidence to see you spend the rest of your life in Azkaban.”
He was horrified by the thought, and Albus did not miss the glare sent his way by Severus.
“Of course, I cannot force your hand, and I will even allow you to leave the castle to return home. I do not expect you will be welcomed warmly.”
Draco shook his head.
“Not much of a choice, is it,” he snorted humourlessly.
“Well, you have one other. You can allow me to help you, and in return, you will share whatever you can. Severus has already agreed that he will attempt to bring your mother to you at great risk to himself.”
“My father…”
“Will either be killed by the Dark Lord, during the course of the war, or at best, spend the rest of his life in Azkaban if he is not given a death sentence,” Severus interjected. “He cannot hide from the Dark Lord, Draco. His mark will not allow him to do so. He has carried it for too long.”
“And me?”
Severus shared an uneasy look with Albus.
“As yours is new, there may be a way to remove it, but that means you will need to put your trust in someone you will be reluctant to do so.”
Draco frowned, and though Albus was not convicted that Harry would even agree to it, he hoped he would understand Draco’s position, the lack of choice he’d been given by the Dark Lord, and that he was only trying to look out for his family.
The situation would become volatile at best, and Albus knew he was counting on Harry’ better nature to prevail over the other side that existed within him.
Draco’s life hung in the balance, after all, as did that of his mother.
(Break)
“How was it with Flamel?” Gellert asked curiously.
“Strange,” Albus answered. “He’s not what I was expecting.”
“But you charmed your way around him.”
“I didn’t need to. He used veritaserum on me, so, if I was lying about my intentions, he would know.”
Gellert scowled as he continued pushing himself backwards and forwards on the swing. They often came to the park in the evening. There wasn’t anywhere else they could go within the village.
“It’s boring here.”
“Peaceful,” Albus corrected.
“Nothing exciting happens.”
“Nothing bad happens.”
“Are you always so positive?”
“I prefer it to being a pessimist. Why think of all the misery plaguing the world when you can think of all the good in it?”
“Why think about the good whilst ignoring the miserable parts that can be changed?”
Albus nodded thoughtfully.
“I suppose you could look at it that way. It is a mixture of optimism and pessimism.”
Gellert was a most contradictory figure at times, but it made their conversations most interesting. The two of them were so very different in many ways, but Albus had come to learn that his companion was an incredibly gifted and curious wizard in his own right.
“I would like to change the world,” Gellert murmured.
“You would?”
“I would like a world where our kind are not forced to hide tin the shadows from the muggles. I’d like the entire world to be like it is here.”
“You said it is boring.”
Gellert offered him a teasing grin.
“A great man I know said that it is peaceful.”
Albus felt his cheeks flush and he shook his head.
They often complimented one another in such a way, and the eye contact would even become rather intense in another that would force them both to avert their gaze.
Albus wasn’t sure what it was Gellert did to him. He made him feel rather shy and nervous, and often, he caught the other man blushing the same way he felt his own cheeks redden when in the company of one another.
It wasn’t as confusing as it was damning for them both.
The world would never accept what they may or not feel for one another, but the more time he spent with him, the less Albus care. When it was just them, just like this, nothing else mattered in the world, though both undoubtedly had the ability and power to change it.
“Where would we even begin?”
Gellert frowned at the question.
“I suppose travelling to see more of it, to understand the enormity of the task. I don’t know, Albus, I just don’t want to live in the world as it is. From what I have seen, it is a miserable place for magical and muggle people alike. With us in charge, really in charge, it could be much better for all.”
Albus was not certain that would be so, but as Gellert took his hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze, he nodded, not entirely convinced that there wasn’t anything that he wouldn’t do for the man who’d suddenly yet spectacularly come into his life.
(Break)
He could only stare dumbly at Snape and Dumbledore as they finished explaining what they wanted from him. He’d expected that it would take some rather cunning work of his own to discover what it was Draco was up to but hearing it from the two stony-faced men left him in no doubt they were telling him the truth, though not everything they knew.
“Why should I help the little shit? He’s only tried to make my life miserable and swanned around here like he owns the place. Why should I go out of my way for him when he would love nothing more than for Tom to kill me?”
“Because much like you, Harry, Draco was born into circumstances he had no control over. I admit, the way he comports himself leaves a lot to be desired, but I do not believe he should be punished for the actions of his father.”
“What about his own actions? He’s not exactly innocent, is he?”
“And you are, Potter?” Snape interjected.
Harry shook his head.
“I was never given a choice.”
“And nor was Draco, not really,” Dumbledore sighed. “Yes, he is being punished for Lucius’s failings, but his decision was to either cooperate or watch as his mother and father were murdered. What would you have done in his situation?”
Harry did not like being manipulated, but he could find no argument for the position Malfoy found himself in. He despised the boy and would love nothing more than to see him suffer, but were he to be in the same position…
No, he couldn’t think like that.
He and Malfoy were two very different people.
“I am asking you to do this as a personal favour to me, Harry,” Dumbledore spoke once more, “for you to show compassion to someone who may not be fond of but deserves a chance to make amends for something that wasn’t his fault.”
Harry was far from convinced, and he knew he was still not being told anything, but he offered a reluctant nod, partly for Dumbledore’s sake, and for his own curiosity.
It would be interesting to examine the Dark Mark to see how it was created, if he could do so.
That remained to be seen after all.
“I’m not making any promises,” he huffed, “and I have conditions that I will discuss with Malfoy. Take it or leave it.”
The two men shared a look before Snape left the room, returning only a moment later with a reluctant and sickly-looking Draco Malfoy. It took everything Harry had not to goad the other boy, or pass comment on his appearance, but he still questioned whether or not helping him was something he could bring himself to do.
“Show me,” he instructed.
With a trembling hand, Draco rolled up his sleeve, exposing the fresh mark marring his skin, and Harry could immediately feel the familiar magic radiating from it.
“Did he you parseltongue when gave you this?”
Malfoy winced as Harry took hold of his arm, scrutinising it closely.
“Yes.”
“What do you make of it, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
“Have you never looked at his?” he asked, nodding towards Snape.
“I have, but I cannot glean the nature of the magic nor what it does. I suspect the only two people in the entire country, perhaps magical world are you and the Dark Lord.”
Harry nodded and frowned at the magic he could feel.
The familiarity wasn’t just Voldemort’s but something he had unknowingly always felt within himself, and he quickly understood why Dumbledore could get nothing from it.
The magic itself was unique, much like the language used to create it, and it could not be discerned by those unable to wield it.
“He is arrogant but he couldn’t have known someone else would be able to figure it out,” he mused aloud as he inspected the mark in detail. “For the most part, it is just something of a magical tattoo that interacts with the person who has it, and the one who created it. He can use it summon his followers, but it is more than that. He can cause them great pain if he wants to. The mark itself carries his magic, which he can manipulate at will, and even use it to locate the Death Eaters if he wants to.”
“So, he can find anyone who has been marked?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry nodded.
“Other than that, it is still limited. He cannot take control of anyone.”
“Can you remove it?”
Harry released a deep breath.
“He will know of it if I do it using magic, but there is one small mercy, well, I wouldn’t go that far, but it can be done. The magic is only skin deep, and I would bet he never thought anyone who might want to get rid of it would even consider it.”
“Consider what?” Dumbledore pressed.
“It will need to be removed the muggle way. If I use magic, he will feel the interference, but if I cut it out…”
“Cut it out?” Malfoy yelped.
“It’s a small price to pay for your freedom,” Harry said with a shrug. “Anyway, I haven’t even agreed to do it yet. Like I said to these two, I have conditions.”
“What conditions?”
“You will end any claim you have over the Black lordship. Sirius did not want it being passed to your family.”
Draco scowled at him, but nodded.
“Fine,” he agreed, “but I want you to find a way of helping my mother. She isn’t one of his followers.”
“I have already made arrangements for her to join you,” Snape assured him.
“And my father?”
The potions master shook his head.
“Impossible. The Dark Lord may not notice your mother’s absence for some time, but your father…”
Draco swallowed deeply; his expression downcast.
How he could admire such a scumbag, Harry did not know, but that wasn’t his concern. Truthfully, anything pertaining to the Malfoys was not his concern, except for his desire to tear Lucius’s head from his shoulders.
Personally, he was hoping that Voldemort noticed Narcissa was missing before taking out his anger on Draco’s father.
“Fine,” the blond agree, “but why does he have to do it?” he asked, jerking a thumb towards Harry.
“Because I’m the only one that can feel the magic and how it is reacting,” Harry pointed out. “We’re going to need something sharp and potions because this is going to be messy.”
“I’ll fetch them,” Snape declared grimly.
“Is this really necessary, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
“If he wants it gone, yes. The magic must remain intact.”
“Is it going to hurt?” Draco questioned.
Harry fought the urge to grin.
“That depends on how much pain you can take,” he answered ominously, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the task ahead of him.