Old Ghosts

"I'm not going!"

"Harry," said Albus Dumbledore hopefully, "see reason. My boy, you are in grave danger. I do not wish to instill any unnecessary fear, but the facts are startlingly clear. Professor Snape's sources tell him the school is to be attacked - you are the main target. We must remove you to a safe house for the time being, someplace where Voldemort and his followers cannot locate you."

Leaning back in his chair, Remus resisted the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. He had always been fond of the Headmaster - it had been Dumbledore who had permitted him to attend Hogwarts as a child and who had laboured to take precautions for the safety of the other students, after all - but he knew the depths of Harry's defiance was practically limitless. The boy was as stubborn as a mule, particularly where issues concerning the nature of his character and the safety of his friends were brought up. Like Sirius, Remus thought to himself with a slight pang of emptiness. Never willing to sit back and let others do the dirty work.

As if reading Remus' mind, Harry shook his head vigorously and glared at the Headmaster. "If you think Hogwarts is under attack, then make plans to evacuate the entire school, not just me. I don't see what's so special about me."

"The Boy Who Lived," Albus spoke softly. It was the wrong thing to say; Harry's nostrils flared dramatically and he clenched his fists. "I understand your genuine desire to see this battle through, Harry, but certainly you can understand why I cannot set about evacuating the school." When Harry did not reply, he continued, looking grave. A part of him soared with pride at Harry's selflessness while another part mourned it. The boy, he knew, must be kept alive. "Professor Snape's intelligence has informed us that there are spies within the school itself, mostly children of Voldemort loyalists. The moment I take drastic action, Voldemort will be alerted. It will not take long for him to guess the source of the leaked information."

"Snape," spat Harry, making a face that resembled his least favourite professor's customary sneer. "How can you trust him? Snape's made a career out of lying, bullying - Professor, he's hated me my entire life. What makes you think you can believe him? How do you know he won't simply report my location to Voldemort the second I'm outside the school grounds and unprotected?"

Albus bowed his head softly. "I trust him," he said, simply. "And suffice to say I have my reasons. Severus has proved his loyalty time and again. I trust you have not forgotten his dedication to your protection which he has displayed these many years?"

Harry's eyes widened and Remus found himself clutching his cup of tea nervously, waiting for the inevitable explosion of anger from the temperamental young man. Although he agreed with Dumbledore that Severus had taken on the effort of keeping Harry safe, Remus had to agree with Harry that Severus had done a sterling job of keeping that dedication hidden. "Protection?" Harry shouted, his voice reverberating off the stone walls of the inner office and coming back to him all the louder. "Insulting me, tormenting me? You call that protection?"

"He has not demonstrated the affection and nurturing I prefer to see displayed by my staff, no," Dumbledore admitted reluctantly. "But he has come to your aid time and again. I trust that Severus is telling the truth now, and that his motives are good. Remus," he went on, turning to the werewolf who sat in a high-backed chair furtively stowing chocolate biscuits in his pocket. "Perhaps you can explain further?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Please do." Albus sighed, sitting heavily in a nearby chair.

"Harry," started Remus with a sinking feeling. "I trust you remember my numerous absences of late?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "I have been serving the Order in the one capacity I can, by working at Professor Snape's contact, which sometimes requires me to leave the school at odd hours or be absent for a few days while I collect the information he has to report. Severus has surrendered his post at the school as demanded by Voldemort, but he continues to serve a valuable position for us all - more valuable even, I daresay, than as a Potions instructor and your protector within the school. He has gone underground, pretending to be simply another of Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters, which enables him to collect data on their whereabouts and, more specifically, plans. His work is extremely dangerous; if he were found out, well...." Remus paused significantly, not wanting to voice the fears that had begun keeping him up late at night. "I have met with Severus frequently, Harry, and I trust what he says is true. In your best interest I feel we must acquiesce to his demand that you are relocated."

Harry blinked rapidly, looking positively mutinous. "But - my father. Sirius! Snape hated them and he hates me!"

Remus felt his chest tightening at the mention of Sirius and James, his lost friends. His golden eyes gleamed sorrowfully. "The enmity between your father, godfather and Severus began on the very first day of school, as I remember, even before our arrival, specifically. Yes, Severus' loathing for them ran deep, and I daresay when he looks upon you, who are a reflection of James in every way, he struggles to contain the painful feelings James' memories arouse. However, you must understand that whatever contempt Severus demonstrates is tempered by a fierce pride in your abilities and, I believe, perhaps even respect for you, however grudging." When Harry snorted, Remus continued, unwilling to surrender the advantage. "For years, Severus has driven you harder than any of his other charges. Why?"

"Because he hates me," said Harry, logically. He looked around the room, wanting to jump up and make an escape.

"Because he wants to urge you to work harder, to be better than the rest," corrected Remus. He gave the Headmaster a glance for reassurance, and Dumbledore nodded sagely. "It is not Severus' way to coddle or praise, Harry, and that is unfortunate, but in his own way he is forever pushing you forward, requiring you to challenge your abilities."

Harry shook his head. "I still don't trust him, and I'm not going anywhere. I'm not leaving the school or my friends. Nobody is going to fight on my behalf. It's me Voldemort wants, not them."

"Precisely why you must be moved, Harry," spoke Dumbledore. "Once you are safely relocated, word of your disappearance will be leaked to the student body. Those students reporting back to the Death Eaters will carry the news that you have run away from the school."

"Run away?" challenged Harry.

Inwardly, Remus groaned. Now Albus, what did you have to say that for? "An alternate cover story can be devised once you are safe, Harry. The point is, the students will believe you are gone. Once Voldemort gets wind of this information, it is unlikely he would attempt an invasion of the school. As you are the prime target, it would make little sense to wage war on Hogwarts in your absence. Your friends and fellow students will be safe from harm."

Harry frowned, struggling to accept the information. Finally, he spoke. "Are Ron and Hermione coming too?" he asked hopefully. In his mind's eye, he pictured the cheerful Gryffindor common room. He thought of his friends, the laughter that echoed in the Great Hall at mealtimes, the joy he took in a few of his favourite courses and the delight of mastering a new skill. How soon before he would be torn away from Hogwarts, the only place he had really ever considered a home?

"I'm afraid not," said Dumbledore. "Harry, please consider," he went on quickly as Harry looked up sharply. "The disappearance of one famous student will arouse a great deal of suspicion unless it can be orchestrated very carefully. We may be able to divert suspicion with a logical cover story, but how can we explain the absence of your friends as well?"

"Say we left together," urged Harry. He thought of Hermione and Ron, his heart thumping in his chest at the thought of being separated from them. "We're always together, it would make sense."

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry, I'm afraid that simply isn't possible."

"Then I'm not going."

"Harry," said Remus gently. "Consider the danger you bring everyone by remaining here." It hurt him to say it, hurt more to see the look of shock and pain in Harry's eyes at his words, but Remus knew it would prompt Harry to see reason. "With you at Hogwarts, the entire school is in danger. Voldemort will carry out his attack, but we can be sure he will not expect his Death Eaters to rein in their murderous desires. There is no telling how many students and members of staff will be killed or injured. I understand you care greatly for your friends, and I admire the camaraderie between the three of you, but they will suffer on your behalf if you refuse to remove yourself from Hogwarts."

Startled, Harry stared at Remus. "When am I leaving?"

"Tonight," Remus started to say, but then something caught his eye. There was a flicker of a shadow just outside the door to Dumbledore's office. "Albus," he spoke softly, "I'm afraid this conversation has been compromised."

"Ah, Mr Malfoy," said Dumbledore grandly as he waved his wand, revealing the blonde-haired Slytherin ducking down the passage. "I see you have decided to become privy to the secrets we are discussing here tonight. Come in, please," he beckoned with one hand. When Draco remained frozen in the entryway, Dumbledore waved his wand again, summoning a nearby chair to scoop Draco up and deliver him to Remus' side. "Cup of tea, my boy?"

Draco's wide, silvery eyes darted from Dumbledore's grinning face to Remus' grave one before focussing directly on Harry. He could feel the speed of his heartbeat cycle ever quicker as he stared into that familiar face. The Boy Who Lived, he thought roughly. Chosen One. That Potter. Surveying Harry's green eyes and the thin trace of scar that dissected his forehead, Draco shivered. He shrugged away Dumbledore's offer of tea, instead choosing to voice his suspicions. "He's leaving?"

"He is," agreed Dumbledore easily. He reclined in his chair, wishing the lot of them were gone so he could engage in a cigar, his one preferred vice. Relaxation and leisure were concepts that belonged to the past as far as he was concerned; what with everything to do, he rarely had time to muse through the assembled memories collected in his Pensieve and suck on lemon drops anymore. In this aspect, he envied the children in his care, who, despite the tension around them, were still able to indulge in pranks and laughter, puppy love and board games. However, the young man seated before him looked as grave as Dumbledore himself felt. "How much did you overhear?"

"Everything," said Draco with some satisfaction. "The Gargoyles let me through. The password was Cauldron Cakes." He looked fairly pleased with himself for surpassing the Headmaster's security.

Dumbledore smiled. "Indeed it is. Clever of you, Mr Malfoy, to infiltrate the inner offices. Your father would indeed be proud." Draco's eyes clouded somewhat at this; he looked almost frightened, the shadows looming under his eyes appearing even bigger. "I see to remember Lucius had a knack for spying. So, may I inquire as to the reason for your espionage? Have you been assigned to take word to your father, or perhaps Voldemort directly?"

Draco's eyes widened. "No," he whispered.

"There must be some reason you are here," urged Dumbledore. "Harry, perhaps?" He noticed as Draco fidgeted in his chair. "Have you been given the task of tailing Harry, observing him, or is this simply an independent effort, such as a prank?"

"Nothing like that," shot back Draco, stung by the accusations. He supposed he deserved to be thought of as Harry's enemy. After all, he had spent most of his waking hours at the school engaged in petty torments and slinging insults at Harry and his friends. Still, it was unpleasant to have Albus Dumbledore's eagle-keen eyes surveying his face as if reading his secrets.

Remus leaned forward, his penetrating gaze boring into Draco's face. "Then enlighten us."

"I just wanted to talk," mumbled Draco, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, though of course Remus, with his exemplary senses, understood. "He's -"

"Yes?"

Shoving his hands into his trouser pockets, Draco sighed. "Nothing."

"I see. Well, considering that you are now alerted to our plans, Mr Malfoy, I trust you understand why I cannot permit you to return to the Slytherin dormitory." When Draco looked up in shock, Dumbledore continued. "This meeting was, in a word, secret. Now, the information has been leaked to you. Now, I am certain," continued Dumbledore, his voice laden with irony, "that you would never intentionally endanger Harry by sharing this information with your friends or anyone else who might intend Harry harm, but secrets are difficult things to keep, and it is better to be safe than sorry. No, I'm afraid you are now part of the plan as opposed to a mere witness."

"What?"

"You'll be leaving the school with Harry," spoke Remus. He thought of Severus' likely reaction to the news and was torn between a reproving frown and a smile as the image of Severus bellowing about Draco's untrustworthiness flashed through his mind. "For his safety."

"But - no!" Draco jumped from his chair, looking murderous. "I'm not - you can't make me --"

Here comes the tried and true, thought Remus resignedly. My father.

"- when my father hears about this, he'll - he'll - he won't stand for it. Hell, nor will I." Draco's temper shone on his face. "I'm seventeen. I'm of age. You can't decide what I do or where I go."

"Well, Draco, I'm afraid that is not entirely true," said Remus. When the boy gaped at him, he shrugged. "It is true that you are legally of age, and under normal conditions, your whereabouts cannot be dictated to you. However, things here are a bit different. You have been caught spying on a private conversation shared between myself, Mr Potter and Headmaster Dumbledore. I hardly need explain to you again that any action taken against Harry, particularly a threat to his safety, is most unwise in these grave times. Furthermore, you are known to have connections to the Death Eaters terrorist organisation, through your father, family friends and your own affiliates. I can also see, based on your physical reaction," he went on as Draco unconsciously clenched his arm, "that you yourself have been marked with Voldemort's symbol. If Dumbledore reported your activities to the Ministry of Magic, you would be had up on treason. There would be no trial, simply an automatic sentence to Azkaban prison."

Eyes twinkling, Dumbledore picked up the explanation. "You see, my boy, your situation is grave. However, here you are being given an option. You may choose to co-operate with us, or we can summon the Ministry." He pointed at the blazing fire. "My Floo is connected to Scrimegeour's personal fireplace; I can have him here in seconds, though of course I would prefer your cooperation."

"I'm not doing anything to endanger Potter," Draco protested weakly.

"That's not how it looks though, Draco," Remus assured him. "And I do believe you subscribe to a motto that appearances are everything?"

"I wanted his help," Draco burst out. It was difficult, and he swallowed his pride with great effort. Has to be done, he reminded himself. Father will kill me if the Dark Lord doesn't get there first. Slowly, he slid back the sleeve of his robes to reveal a blazing black mark imprinted on his fair skin. He looked at it with hatred, loathing and fear, and noted with satisfaction that both Harry and Dumbledore appeared startled. Lupin did not, but Draco dismissed that. What would a mangy werewolf have to fear from Voldemort? He recruits them. "I didn't want this. They forced me!"

Remus felt himself pale. "You are not aligned with the Death Eaters?" he asked, staring at the Dark Mark on Draco's forearm. "You were marked against your will?"

"No! Not - not anymore," Draco amended. He thought of the years he had spent dedicated to grasping that power, and shuddered. Ever since he was a small boy he had wanted to emulate his father. Lucius had always been heartless, even cruel, revelling in destruction and murder and mayhem, but he had dedicated himself to instilling the value of power and control in his young son, and Draco had lived to please. He had spent his time as a student lusting after the wealth of power Voldemort offered, dreaming of the day he would be called into service. Then he had been, and it had been nothing he had expected. His father's friends were bullies. Draco had existed in a sphere of perpetual danger, attacked from all sides by Death Eaters demanding more and more from him. He had endured abuse, even the Cruciatus, as they had attempted to toughen him up under Lucius' watchful eye. Then he had been instructed in the Killing Curse. He had always believed the Avada Kedavra would make him lord and master of lesser beings, but he had sickened him to see the results of his clumsy murders. He was terrified of stepping out from his father's shadow, but loyalty no longer held him to Lucius, or to Voldemort. He gazed at Dumbledore with hopeful, though shadowed eyes, resentful and pleading all at once.

"They have jobs they want me to do. Murders," Draco added, the bite of pride and contempt still in his voice. "If I fail, if I flee, they won't waste time trying to get me back. I'll be killed. I thought, if anyone could help, it would be..." He looked at Harry significantly, surprised to see the other boy looking at him evenly. For once, Potter was not glaring back. "I didn't know what else to do."

"I see." Dumbledore tapped his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Then this relocation will be not only for Harry's protection, but your own. Remus," he went on. "Will you locate Minerva and have her arrange to deliver Mr Potter's baggage to this office in precisely one hour? I will obtain Mr Malfoy's myself. Boys," he added, looking from Harry to Draco. "Sit tight."