Chapter 140: Year Six - Chapter Ten
The Headmaster wasn't yet asleep. He was still scribbling, and when he saw me enter, he furrowed his brows. The furrow only grew deeper as Draco followed me. "Mister Umbrus, Mister Malfoy, is something the matter?" he asked, putting on his best Headmaster-like voice.
There was a brief moment of awkward silence as I gestured at Draco to step forward, only for the boy to widen his eyes at me suddenly throwing him to the wolves. I rolled my eyes, and he flushed ever so slightly. "Fine, bloody well be worth it," he muttered, and then took a step forward, clear hesitation showing on his face. "Sir," he said, "I need your help."
There was a brief moment of absolute stillness in the air. It was as if Dumbledore had, ever so briefly, stopped every single thought in his head as he turned his eyes towards Draco's worried expression, and then took in the absolutely unashamed look of triumph on mine. You had expected that I'd deal with this mess by myself through an extremely complicated plot, didn't you, father? Well, be surprised! I'm bowing to your incredible wisdom! Solve the mystery! Fix the points of Hogwarts yourself!
"Mister Malfoy," he said in the end, "All at Hogwarts may find help, as long as they ask for it," he continued, having found the words that had temporarily eluded him. "Please take a seat."
We did just that, and as I expected, Dumbledore did offer us sherbet lemons and tea.
I took a sip, and patiently waited for Malfoy to find the rest of his courage. He was hesitant at first, but as the first words came out, the rest soon followed like a dam having finally caved in to the relentless pressure of the secrets it held back.
"It's my mother, sir," he said, "I-she's not herself."
His fingers clasped together, fright marring his face as his knuckles turned white. "It was small at first, she didn't seem different, didn't act different, but little by little, she-she'd forget she had to see her friends, she'd lose sight of what she was doing, and-" he stammered, "And she forgot my birthday just recently, which is simply strange, because-" he swallowed, "She'd never forget it. But I saw her do some things, some things my mom wouldn't do..." he was literally gasping for the words he needed to blurt out, but seemed to refuse to emit.
"Draco," I whispered, "Curses can be broken, and no one would convict her for having acted under the influence of dark magic."
"She used an unforgivable," Draco whispered. "She-She used it on my father, called him Malfoy, and-and I was in another room but I heard his screams and...and she said he had failed and-" his breathing came erratically, as if fear clutched his heart like a real, strenuously strong grip. "And then she was sobbing too, said she was sorry, but then it happened again and I heard the spell, and..."
"That will be enough, Mister Malfoy," Dumbledore whispered, his voice gentle. "There are many questions I fear I must ask you, but before I do, would you rather I call your head of the house? He may be willing to assist you. Was he not a friend of your family?"
"Professor Snape-my father told me that he wouldn't be able to help," Draco answered, his face ashen. "He's a Potions' Master, not a curse breaker and...and if something went wrong, then my mom would die."
Dumbledore nodded, a grimace settling on his face as he pondered the words to their full extent.
Lucius had to know that Narcissa was being controlled by Voldemort. He had to know, but he also had to protect his son from harm. Snape's version of the story was that he was loyal to Voldemort, but had fooled Dumbledore. Clearly, if Lucius went to him, he might just end up digging his own grave even further.
If Voldemort had ever suspected that they'd be trying to free Narcissa from him, then he'd just fully possess the woman and be done with her. Yet he was but a shadow of his former self now, wasn't he? And if he was nothing more than a shadow, then perhaps the locket couldn't really possess people, not like the other objects could.
Out of all of them, only the Diary had ever shown the ability to effectively consume someone's will and rebirth a young Tom Riddle, and even that had taken nearly a yeary. Perhaps the other objects simply didn't have enough of a splinter of a soul of the original to do so? The Diary had been the first, hence it had produced the most powerful of Horcruxes.
The locket was probably working on overdrive, bidding its time and slowly wrenching after three years enough control to actually use Narcissa's body for its purposes. The fact that Draco had been spared having to work for the Dark Lord, though, was a mystery by itself. Tom Riddle wouldn't have had qualms in using the boy, not unless there was something else holding that thought at bay.
"Even so, you can rest assured, Mister Malfoy," the Headmaster said, "I will do everything in my power to save your mother from the curse that has befallen her."
"Th-Thank you, sir," Draco managed to answer. A few more questions were asked, and a couple of those slotted nicely with the time frame. Draco even went as far as mention the locket's first appearance a few days after the arrival of the new house elf, and as everything took shape and form, the Headmaster bid us good night and left us to our own devices. He'd call Snape, with all due haste, and decide what to do next.
"You should be careful," Draco muttered as we walked the hallways, coming to a split. "Crabbe's planning something. He wants revenge for what you did to his dad."
I gave him a quiet nod. "Let him come," I said. "But there is a saying about revenge," I continued gently, "When you wish for it, dig two tombs. One is for your enemy, but the other one is for you."
"Still sounding like a muggle chocolate one liner," Draco answered, snorting and rolling his eyes before bidding me farewell, headed for the dungeons.
I shrugged, and then ever so gingerly walked up to the seventh floor corridor, and into the Room of Requirements. So late at night, it was unoccupied, as expected.
It opened a passageway right into the kitchens, where a House Elf, eagerly waiting my arrival, handed me a fuming coffee cup. Then, I gently patted the side of the garbage chute, which opened ever further, a set of spiraling stairs popping out to allow me an easier time getting down and up. Humming to myself, I trudged alongside the clean side of the sewers, the fragrant smell of lavender replacing the stench. The House Elves had started to dump the garbage elsewhere, from what I had garnered.
My eyes adjusted to the different lighting of the Hall of Shadows, and as my fingers gestured for a book, it eagerly flapped its pages and came floating for my hand.
There was a gentle thrumming in the background, a tank filled with water and a stone charmed to put oxygen in the water rested against the wall. Some of the fishes from the lake rested within, looking quietly uninterested at the proceedings.
I flipped through the Magick Moste Evile until I reached the page concerning the one Unforgivable I was currently trying, key word being trying, to understand and counter.
"The Avada Kedavra," I whispered, reading from the book as I walked back and forth, "Of its origins, it is known precious little. The creator of such a spell did its best to keep the knowledge secret, and was ironically by it murdered. Since then it has spread, and has reached even my ears with its pleasant abilities. Of the attempts done on Muggles, it appears clear that the power of my wand allows it to work as flawlessly as ever," I sighed as I read on, the cup of coffee left on the nearest table. "Though the result yields always a dead body, without wounds nor signs of pain, it appears clear that the effect is to cease, immediately upon contact, all functions of life. Whatever animates a muggle's body is ripped cleanly out, severed without fault," there were a few more words about how the age of the Muggle didn't matter one bit, and which I glossed over with a grimace on my face.
"Of blocking such a powerful curse, I have found a few solutions. To dodge it, but that is not for the refined or to conjure forth a living being or an object willing to take it in your stead. Even so, as it appears clear, thin walls will avail naught and truly powerful wizards such as I can easily pierce through a castle's thick walls to hit the King within. A human body, no matter how frail or near death, will instead always soak the spell for the one it shields."
Seriously, the writer of the book clearly gave off all of the bad vibes in the world, and while it did disgust me to read about it, there was also little I could do but soldier on. "Ironically," the writer continued, "conjured creatures' effects vary. The most intelligent will hold better chances of holding the spell at bay with their lives, but the simpler ones may not. Magic, while strangely ineffective while using any form of protection against curses known to Wizard-kind, can be useful if it animates a statue, or a gargoyle. The magic itself will not fail; the animated gargoyle will keep on acting, provided the spell has not shattered it to a near-impossible to repair state. There must be something with the animation, with the giving of fake life, that somehow tampers with the Avada Kedavra."
I muttered the last part, closing the book and looking at the closest Draghul. Animating one wasn't that much harder than using a Draconifors spell on a large chunk of stone, but then one had to ensure the charms coalesced together to form a more stable, and lasting, connection.
I pulled my wand out from my holster, and glanced at the fishes within the tank. They swam peacefully.
I looked at the tip of my wand, and hummed as a thin trail of smoke left it. "Abra Cadabra," I said offhandedly. There was a pop, and a bunch of flowers appeared from the tip of my wand. "Well," I snickered. "So much for this being a counter-spell to the Unforgivable by excellence," I waved the flowers off the tip of my wand, and they fell on the ground.
I pointed the wand at a nearby Draghul. "Abra Cadabra," I said, and witnessed it ever so briefly flutter with its flaming greenish eyes. Then, nothing else happened. "Well," I grumbled. "Doesn't really do anything then."
The wand motion for the spell was a lightning motion going downwards. I tried it in the opposite direction, "Abra Cadabra!" and a white rabbit popped out of a conjured black top hat.
I snickered.
"Fine!" I laughed, shaking my head. I didn't know why I was finding it funny, but it was indeed incredibly funny. "Next one on the list is Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," there was a whistle. The whistling grew. I felt something tuck at my inner sixth sense. That feeling made me swiftly flung myself behind a table as a loud pop shattered every single glass thing around me, sending shrapnel to fly everywhere at the same time.
"Wooh," I snickered even louder, the smile on my face on a near-maniacal level. "Wait," I took a deep breath, clapping my hands against my cheeks, trying to wind down from the high I was currently on, "Got to be the previous one-it's all just so funny." I clapped my cheeks again, the uplifting emotion in my chest slowly dimming with each clap. I moved from my cheeks to my hands, and the feeling dropped further, until I was back to what I felt was giddiness, but not extreme foolhardy elation.
"Is anyone taking notes of this?" I asked to the empty room, "Cause I feel that we need to think outside the box to get this thing to work properly," I glanced at my Dictaquill, laying still on the ground, and at the fishes flopping about on the floor.
A quick charm put the fishes back into their places, and another had the Dictaquill start scribbling down the notes I dictated her.
"So, I still have Alakazam, Hocus Pocus, Sim Sala Bim, and...what else?" I glanced at the worried looks on my Draghuls. "Don't worry," I said, "I'm not going to try them on you, well, not yet."
Their flaming eyes told me they had the utmost confidence in me.
The fact they quietly whimpered to the furthest corners of the room and did their best to meld with the stone walls was merely because they didn't want to bother me, clearly, as I kept trying strange spells.
Shadowdrake oversaw it all from the enhanced height the statue had.
Clearly, it was above such pettiness and fears.
The fact it took a couple of steps back though, was probably because it was starting to feel cramped.
It had to be that.
My Draghuls couldn't all be scaredycats now, could they!?
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