Remedial History

Chapter Six: The Binding Ritual

Theo snapped back to the present day and realized that the parchment in front of him was filled with words, well over three feet of writing, and yet his history only went up to September of his first year at Hogwarts. How had that happened?

Oh well, he thought, Nearly Headless Nick had better be willing to accept it. He certainly wasn't about to start all over again, and it was almost time for the Pureblood Youth League meeting.

The front of the room filled with misty images once again, and the voice went into far more detail about the history of the last war. After half an hour, Theo's head was swimming with visions of the Pureblood Britain Party rallies, and the young men and women selected for the Dark Lord's elite forces, and the secret initiation rites.

"We ought to have an initiation rite," murmured Daphne as the torches flared up again.

"What sort of rite?" asked Tracey.

"Something that will keep out traitors," said Draco darkly, but (Theo couldn't help thinking) rather unspecifically. He was looking at Dionysius Moon.

Blaise drifted over to the bookshelves and removed a small volume bound in dark green dragon skin. "This might give you some ideas," he remarked after examining the pages.

Where the book had stood a moment earlier, a little silver dagger with a jade handle and a cup made of bone had appeared. Blaise picked up all three objects and laid them on the table in the center of the room.

"An ancient and most potent binding ritual," Blaise read from the book. "While all who take the oath keep faith, their blood will run free within the cup as a river runs to the sea. But if one drop of traitor's blood should contaminate the whole, it will turn black and clotted. Woe unto the traitor, for you shall know him by the scar. And this is the oath that shall bind you together:

"Brothers and sisters are all who study the Dark Arts, bound by the sweet ties of blood, by the bitter bonds of pain, and by the secret chains of knowledge. With my heart's blood I swear allegiance to you, my brothers and sisters, and vengeance against those who break the chain by revealing our secrets."

Blaise took the dagger and cut a small X on the inside of his left wrist. He pressed the cup against his arm and let a trickle of blood flow into it.

He handed the dagger to Draco, who went paler than usual. His hand shook as he accepted it.

"Give it to me," said little Malcolm Baddock unexpectedly. "I can take it."

"After me," said Draco, seeming to pluck up courage. "Brothers and sisters are all who study the Dark Arts..."

He passed the dagger on to Malcolm as Crabbe and Goyle pushed forward, seemingly eager to take their turn.

"I don't like this much, do you?" Theo whispered to Tracey, who was standing next to him.

"We've got to do it, I suppose," she said. But her freckles stood out sharply against her white face.

Pansy Parkinson was taking the oath now. She motioned to the Greengrass sisters and Tracey to follow her. After a fleeting, troubled glance at Theo, Tracey obeyed.

"It's not so bad," she whispered, returning to Theo's side with a freshly cut mark on her wrist. "The blade is so sharp that it's over in a second, and it feels ... good, somehow, after you do it. Like you're set apart."

Millicent took the oath, then Lisa Turpin, then Dionysius Moon, who crossed the room and handed the dagger and the cup to Theo. The book still stood on the table, but by now he could recite the oath from memory. "Brothers and sisters are all who study the Dark Arts, bound by the sweet ties of blood..."

He thought fleetingly of the sister he had lost. Would she have done this? Had she? She was a fellow Slytherin, after all. Was this a way of getting some part of her back?

"... by the bitter bonds of pain..."

His eyes rested on Millicent Bulstrode, who was trying to staunch the bleeding with the corner of her robes. Her square jaw was tilted upwards, and she looked - for the first time Theo could remember - entirely happy and at ease in the presence of her housemates.

"... and by the secret chains of knowledge."

He looked at Blaise - young, confident, handsome - and he thought, for some reason, of Professor Snape, who was none of those things.

"... With my heart's blood I swear allegiance to you, my brothers and sisters, and vengeance against those who break the chain by revealing our secrets."

The other P.Y.L. members' faces shone in the torchlight. He thought about the step he was about to take and gathered his courage. His brothers and sisters, all of them. Forever.

Tracey placed a steadying hand on his arm. "Just cut quickly and don't think too much about it," she advised.

Theo set the dagger's point against his wrist. He pressed down as hard as he dared, but too lightly to break the skin.

"Scared, Nott? Want me to do that for you?" asked Goyle.

"No!" said Theo. He managed a small cut this time, and it was not as painful as he had expected. He did it again, giving himself the same X-shaped mark the others had, and let his blood fall into the cup.

After the other meetings, the students had left the room in groups of two or three or four: Pansy and her girlfriends; Draco followed by Crabbe and Goyle; the younger Slytherins in a tight little knot, and the handful of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws with their housemates. This time, they all walked and talked together, seemingly drawn close by the binding ritual. Only Blaise hung back. After a brief, faintly envious glance at the others, Theo decided to stay with his friend.

Blaise slipped the dragon-skin book under his robes and started to laugh softly. "Did you see Malfoy's face? I thought he was going to faint. And the way that little third-year showed him up was absolutely priceless."

Theo shifted his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I don't blame him for being scared," he said after a moment.

"Scared of what?" asked Blaise. "You don't believe the ritual has any power, Theo? A parlor game. Superstition."

Theo wasn't so sure. He wondered why his friend would bother to steal a book of parlor games, but he decided not to press the issue. "How did you know where to find that oath? Have you read that book before?"

Blaise smiled mysteriously and waved a hand around the Come and Go Room. "What, you haven't worked out how this place works by now?"

* * *

Theo and the rest of the sixth-year Slytherins spent most of the next morning tugging the sleeves of their robes over their wrists and exchanging surreptitious glances across the Transfiguration classroom. They shared a brand new secret, and as scary and serious as the meeting had been, it was also terribly exciting.

In the afternoon, Theo met Neville at Hagrid's cottage. The tadpoles, now grown into toadlets, were hopping all over the room. "A good clutch," Hagrid reported. "Sixty-three of 'em, not countin' the ones that aren' magical -- I had to let 'em go in the forest, regular toads don' do so well aroun' people."

Hagrid had two other visitors: Harry Potter, and an energetic first-year whom Harry introduced as his cousin, Mark Evans. Mark kept rocketing around the tiny kitchen; he insisted that he was trying to round up the little toads, but for the most part he only succeeded in making them more excited. One of them landed in the middle of a large cauldron that was simmering on the stove. Hagrid nonchalantly fished it out and offered his guests some soup, which they declined politely.

"Listen." Harry lowered his voice among the chaos. "We've got to talk to you about something. Neville told me you sometimes tell your sister the passwords to different parts of the castle, is that right?"

Hagrid suddenly dropped his ladle into the cauldron, splashing soup everywhere.

"Yeah," said Theo. "Why?"

The other two boys looked at each other. "Well, I can't really say very much, but someone ... committed a crime at Hogwarts a little while ago, and my guardian and some other people are investigating it," said Harry. "They thought at first that it was somebody who worked here, but it's starting to look more and more like it was an outsider who somehow learned some of the passwords and some other information about the school."

"We're not saying your sister is helping the criminals on purpose," added Neville hastily, "but it's possible she could have told the passwords to someone else without meaning to."

Theo appreciated Neville's tact, but he was far from sure that Medea wouldn't help criminals on purpose. She could be volatile at times, and she held the sort of political views one didn't discuss outside the family...

"I won't tell her any more passwords," said Theo. "I'll make up fake ones if she asks."

Harry and Neville glanced at each other again. They seemed surprised that he had agreed so readily. "Do you tell her other stuff? Like habits of the staff members, and which of them do or don't like each other, and things?" Harry asked.

"Sometimes," Theo admitted, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Is this something you'd be willing to talk about to an adult?" asked Neville. "Professor Lupin, for instance?"

Theo felt uncertain. He suspected that Professor Lupin and Harry's legal guardian were one and the same person, and he really didn't want to land his sister in the middle of a criminal investigation. She was ill -- even his father admitted as much -- and she often couldn't help what she said or did.

"You don't have to answer that right away," said Neville. "We won't be seeing him until the first Hogsmeade weekend anyway. Just think about it."

"All right, I'll think about it," said Theo, hoping the topic would never come up again. He changed the subject. "Nearly Headless Nick seems like he's turning out to be a pretty good professor, doesn't he? I was surprised."

"I found out who his master was," said Harry. "I asked Hermione."

"Who was he?" asked Theo.

"Richard the Third. The one who murdered his nephews. The Princes in the Tower."

"But - " said Theo, and then, with more conviction. "No. He wasn't the sort of man to do that."

Harry shrugged. "Everybody in the Muggle world knows he did. Even I knew about it, and history was my worst subject in primary school."

"Hey, Nev," said Mark, crawling out from under Hagrid's bed, where he'd finally managed to trap one of the toads. "I think this one likes me. Can I keep him?"

"They're Theo's, really," said Neville. "Hagrid says magical animals legally belong to their mother's owner. Theo, can Mark have a toad?"

"Sure," said Theo, wondering what on earth he was going to do with the other sixty-two.

* * *

At their next History of Magic class, Nearly Headless Nick dimmed the lights once again. "Before my master left York after the requiem Mass," he said, "we had another private conversation, this one in my own chamber where there was no risk of being overheard."

Theo had to squint to make out the two men's faces. The mist was dim and filled with shadows, as if they were in a very dark room. From what he could see of the place, it was plainly furnished, with bare stone walls and a single table. Nicholas and Richard were sharing a bottle of wine and talking in low voices.

"I believe our best course is to have my brother's sons declared illegitimate," Richard was saying. "It will draw rebellion away from them and toward me, and the decree may easily be reversed once they come of age. 'Twill not be a hard thing to make believable. My brother had, shall we say, many amorous adventures, and he was known not to be averse to hole-and-corner marriages. Who is to say he had no other wife living when he wed the boys' mother?"

Nicholas coughed. "He was indeed a merry king, my lord."

Richard's eyes twinkled. "Thou hast, as ever, a tactful way of putting things. Perhaps I shall make thee an ambassador once our position is secure."

"You would have to accept the crown, my lord. Did you not say you would do no such thing?"

"Crowns do not make kings. Ask my father -- " Richard scowled -- "crowned with paste and paper by the Lancastrians, as a last act of mockery before they chopped off his head. The one I shall accept will also be a false one, in its way -- although I hope my head will remain on my shoulders after I surrender it."

"And what will you do with the boys in the meantime?"

Richard frowned. "There is our great difficulty. I believe they will be safest if they are brought up in obscurity. I hope to place them in some comfortable, but not noble, household -- perhaps that of my brother's ... lady friend."

"Which one, my lord?"

"Prithee curb thy tongue, Sir Nicholas, before I revise my opinion of thy tact," said Richard, but he was smiling. "I mean Mistress Shore, of course. She hath wit and wisdom and virtue, apart from a somewhat loose interpretation of her marriage vows, and she is a powerful witch who can protect them. But we must keep this arrangement so secret that none will suspect it. 'Tis best, I think, if I make a show of banishing Mistress Shore from the court and making her do penance for her sins. In a few months, when her fall from grace is well known and my enemies have lost interest in her, we may smuggle the boys into her household and have them raised as apprentices to her husband the goldsmith. It will be a humble life, but there is no shame in honest work even for princes."

"That will be hard on Mistress Shore," said Nicholas. "She is a proud woman."

"I have written to her already -- I thank thee for lending me thy owl, by the way -- and I know her mind. She is also, as I said, a wise woman, and she understood my reasons at once. The man who would maintain power in these times must hold his friends at arm's length and his enemies very close indeed." Richard's voice took on a steely note, and the guarded look in his eyes reminded Theo of Professor Snape. "But these next few months will be perilous indeed. Hast thou any notion, Nicholas, where my nephews may be most secure? Might we introduce them to Hogwarts in the guise of new students?"

Nick shook his head. "Though they are princes born, they are still Muggles; they will not be able to see the school at all. But I have another thought in mind."

"Speak, Nicholas."

"At the heart of the Tower of London lieth a secret chamber. 'Tis royally appointed, with tapestries on the walls and furnishings fit for young princes, and 'twas designed as a safe refuge for nobly born wizards in times of turmoil and persecution. Few know of its existence, even those of my own kind. The young king and his brother will be safe there, particularly if we guard the chamber with a Fidelius Charm."

"Tell me of this Fidelius Charm. I have not heard thee speak of it before."

"It is nothing less than the concealment of a secret within a single living person, my lord. As long as the Secret-Keeper speaketh not, no other man can discover it, not if he were to search for a thousand years."

"But who shall be the Secret-Keeper? Wilt thou, Nicholas?"

Nicholas bowed his head for a moment before he spoke. "I dare not, my lord. Though your brother did me the honor of making me a knight for my long service to your lordship, I am a commoner by birth. The leader of a rebellion will not hesitate to torture me - and I do not trust myself under torture."

Richard looked thoughtful. "Then we will need a nobleman who is a wizard. Are there any such?"

"A few, my lord. The most powerful is Henry Stafford, Duke of Buckingham. With your permission, I shall speak to him and learn his mind. Meet us at Northampton in one week's time."

Richard looked surprised. "I have met him, of course, but I would not have suspected he was a wizard. Truly, he is a deeper man than he appears."

The scene dissolved and re-shaped itself into a much better-appointed room at another inn. "The Lord Protector's quarters at Northampton," commented Nick. The sky outside was dark and the clock in the corner showed that the time was past two in the morning when Nicholas entered the room. Richard was already there, along with a petite woman in witch's robes. She was pretty, though a little too pale, and the sparkle in her eyes suggested good humor and intelligence.

"Thou knowest Mistress Elizabeth Shore, of course?" said Richard to Nicholas

"Jane Shore." The woman seemed entirely at ease correcting the Lord Protector of England. "I found it a great inconvenience to have the same name as my lover's wife, so I changed it. The king was forever telling the page boys, 'Give this letter to my dear Elizabeth' and putting them in a most impossible position. 'Tis bad enough that nearly every man in the royal family is named Edward or Richard. I do not see how the nobles accomplish anything at all when they spend half of every conversation trying to make it clear whether they are talking about their brothers or their uncles."

"We manage," said Richard with a quick smile. "Thou hast not lost thy mirth, I see."

"Nay," said Jane. "Your brother used to boast that he had the merriest, the wiliest, and the holiest women in the kingdom for his mistresses -- but he loved the merriest best, and I am she."

"Thou wilt have need to study wiliness in the coming months," said Richard. He turned to Nick with a grave expression on his face. "Time is running short, Nicholas," he said. "Lord Rivers, the Queen's brother, hath packed the young King off to London with small guard, and I fear he hath treason in mind. Hast thou brought a Secret-Keeper?"

"I have, my lord," said Nick, and another man Apparated in the room with a loud pop. He was tall, hearty, and handsome. He bowed to Richard and swept his long hair back with one hand in a gesture that suggested he knew exactly how good-looking he was. His extravagant robes contrasted with the more sober dress of Richard, Nicholas, and Jane, who were all wearing mourning for the king.

"Harry Buckingham, at your service," he introduced himself. He pronounced it "Bookinham."

Richard smiled. "I like thy choice well, Nicholas," he said. "An honest, plain-spoken northern man is worth ten flattering Londoners." (Theo thought Richard's own accent had suddenly become broader. Loondooners, he said.)

Jane Shore, however, looked troubled.

Nearly Headless Nick waved a hand and made the scene disappear. "My master was unfortunately not free from prejudice," he said. "His bias toward northerners was a vice that clouded his mind and kept him from being a true judge of character. I, too, was not free from prejudice. I was inclined to trust Buckingham because he was a wizard like me." He looked around the room. "How many of you can think of an instance of prejudice today?"

All seven students raised their hands.

"Neville?"

"Professor Snape," said Neville promptly. "He's prejudiced against Gryffindors."

Harry, Anna, and Polly laughed. Crabbe and Goyle waved their hands in the air angrily.

"Yes, Gregory?" said Nearly Headless Nick.

"Dumbledore is just as prejudiced against Slytherins!" said Goyle. "He took the House Cup away from us for no good reason at the end of our first year."

Theo expected their professor to stick up for Professor Dumbledore; he was the Gryffindor ghost, after all. But Nick only sighed and said, "Yes, the rivalry between houses is an excellent example, and unfortunately it has changed very little in the five hundred years I have haunted Hogwarts. Polly, you had your hand up too. Did you have another example in mind?"

"The whole pureblood nonsense!" said Polly. "Everybody acts as if Anna and I were second-class citizens, just because our parents happen to be Muggles." Anna nodded her agreement.

Crabbe and Goyle looked as if they wanted to comment again, but Nick called on Harry instead. "I agree with Polly, but I think prejudice against werewolves is even worse. They aren't allowed to have proper jobs, and most landlords won't have anything to do with them, and people shun them for no good reason."

Crabbe could no longer hold back. "How about the way do-gooders are always sticking up for mudbloods and creatures that aren't even human and letting the old wizarding families go to hell in a handbasket?"

Polly, Anna, and Harry protested vehemently. Nicholas waved his hand for silence. "Theodore, I don't think we've heard from you."

Theo thought about the Malfoys. "Even if you're a pureblood, sometimes people look down on you if your family doesn't have much money or your dad doesn't have a good job."

"I guess you'd know all about that, rat-boy," muttered Goyle. (So much for being brothers and sisters in the Dark Arts, Theo thought.)

Nick shot him a look that would have been menacing if the substitute professor hadn't been completely insubstantial, but he spoke mildly. "I think every one of you chose a form of prejudice that hit close to home. Harry, your legal guardian is a werewolf, isn't he?" Harry nodded. "Yes, I see all of you thought of situations where you or your friends were the victims. For your homework, to be handed in a week from today, I shall ask you to do something much harder. Reflect on an occasion when you were guilty of prejudice and write a one-foot-long essay about it."