Remedial History

Chapter Twelve: Decision

“Occlumency is about mental control,” explained Lupin on the following evening. “What you need to do is to make your mind go absolutely blank, or at a minimum, empty it of all emotion. Focus on neutral thoughts and memories if you have to focus on something.”

Theo nodded. He’d occasionally tried to do that with Medea, and sometimes it had worked.

“I’m going to try to be gentle with you these first few times, but you do not have to be gentle with me. You’ve got a wand. Don’t hesitate to defend yourself in any way you can.”

He was expected to attack a professor? Theo resolved to do his best with the mental control part instead.

“Ready? Legilimens!”

A flood of memories surged through his mind ... He was very little, and Lavinia was holding his hand as they went to visit their older sister in St. Mungo’s ... He was ten, playing a lackluster game of chess against Draco Malfoy ... A twelve-year-old Draco was taunting Blaise about his worn, too-short robes, and Blaise turned away, his face a mask of pride and resolve ... Blaise was offering to practice the Imperius curse on Draco at the P.Y.L. meeting –

No! Theo thought. You can’t know anything about that! I swore not to reveal any of our secrets! He struggled to clear his mind of the image and close it off.

“You’re very good,” said Lupin. “Quite a bit of natural aptitude, I’d say.” But he was frowning a little, as if something about the situation bothered him.

They practiced twice more, and each time Theo managed to block his mind off before his teacher could see anything about the Pureblood Youth League or about his sisters.

Harry looked up from his place by the fire. “Is he better than I am?” he asked.

“Yes. He’s better than any untrained Occlumens I’ve known. Except...” The lines on Professor Lupin’s forehead deepened.

“Snape?” Harry asked.

“No. Severus came by his abilities through extensive training and practice. I was going to say – except Peter Pettigrew.”

“WHAT?!?” Harry looked at Theo as if Theo had just slapped him in the face.

“Is that your friend Peter, the one you said I reminded you of?” Theo asked.

“Yes. Only he’s not a friend any more. Merlin, this is awkward, Theo – but let’s just say it’s a very, very long story.”

“And you still trust me?” said Theo.

“Yes. You reminded me of him at the time, but that doesn’t mean you are anyone but yourself.”

But, Theo thought later, he was one step away from being an ex-friend to an awful lot of people. He’d come so close to handing his parents over to the people who were trying to arrest them, and he’d almost let Professor Lupin access the P.Y.L.’s secrets. Worse, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it would have been a relief to spill everything. It would put an end to the doubts and tensions that he’d been trying to sort out for nearly a week.

He fell asleep that night with the Sorting Hat’s words ringing in his ears: But loyalty is another matter. I sense that you may one day be in a position where you must betray one side or the other...

 

                                                            *          *          *

Theo spent most of the next few evenings in the North Tower, because the Slytherin common room had suddenly become an uncomfortable and vaguely alien place. Tracey hadn’t forgiven him for running out on her in the middle of their date, despite his repeated attempts to apologize. He caught a glimpse of her whispering with Daphne and Pansy once or twice, but they always fell silent when he entered the common room. He had a feeling he was being gossiped about.

His suspicions were confirmed on Friday evening when Draco Malfoy cornered him on his way back from the North Tower.

“All alone, Nott? I thought you’d be with your new Gryffindor friends – I hear you’re getting on really well with them. Have you and Longbottom set a date for your wedding yet?”

Theo weighed his options. Draco was alone, too – a rarity for him – and he thought he could be as quick with his wand as the blond boy, if he had to be. But as usual, his first instinct was not to go looking for trouble.

“I’m trying to recruit him,” he said coolly. “Wasn’t that what you asked me to do?”

“Well, you haven’t made much progress with him, have you? Perhaps you could take lessons from Zabini – he’s practically doubled the P.Y.L. membership singlehandedly.”

“You didn’t seem too happy about that at the last meeting,” Theo commented. Most of Blaise’s new recruits were Ravenclaws, and none of them seemed overly impressed with Draco. Blaise had told Theo that he planned to call another election in a few weeks, as soon as the moment seemed right, and this time he meant to win.

“Zabini’s all right – as long as he remembers where he comes from and what his place is. I’ve got no questions about his loyalties. It’s yours that I’m not so sure about. You want to be on the right side of this, Nott. I’ve been in touch with my aunt about our group, and she says she’s got connections outside of Hogwarts who have become very interested in our work – people whose influence is on the rise – and they’ve also got a powerful ally inside the school, somebody who’s keeping close tabs on whether people are with us or against us.”

“An ally inside the school? A professor, you mean?” Theo asked, puzzled.

“Not just any professor. I’m betting it’s our Head of House. Things could get very unpleasant for anybody who’s starting to have second thoughts about the P.Y.L.”

“I’m not having second thoughts,” said Theo. He practiced his Occlumency for good measure, although he doubted that Draco even knew what Legilimency was.

“Prove it, then,” said Draco. “I expect you to bring a guest to our next meeting. After some of the things we’ve been doing, I’m sure you understand that we can’t afford to have any people around that we can’t trust.” He turned on his heel and strode away without waiting for an answer.

*          *          *

 

Neville was usually surrounded by a crowd of Gryffindors, and Theo didn’t have a chance to speak to him alone until after dinner on Tuesday.

“Um, listen, a lot of us have a sort of secret study group going, and I was wondering if you’d have any interest in coming to a meeting tonight. It’s basically – well, what we do is practice the kinds of magic you don’t learn about so much in school, and learn about the history of the first war and stuff.” Theo thought it was better not to mention the pureblood angle; Neville seemed too friendly with a number of people who were not purebloods.

Neville looked guarded. He asked in a sharp voice, “Who’s in charge of this group?”

“Well ... Draco Malfoy at the moment,” Theo admitted. “But all kinds of people are involved – a lot of Ravenclaws, and a few Hufflepuffs. And most of us, of course.”

“What’s the point of having a group? I mean, why not just study in the library or something? Why does it have to be a secret?”

“Part of the idea is to get in touch with people who can help us out after we leave school. Like Draco’s aunt, she’s got connections outside of Hogwarts, and she says Professor Snape supports it too – What’s the matter?” Neville’s round, kindly face had gone an unbecoming shade of purple.

Neville mastered himself with visible effort. “Look, I think you’re a decent person, and you don’t know what you’re getting into, so I’m going to tell you something. If you say one word to anyone about this, I swear, I – I don’t know what I’ll do to you, but you’ll regret it.”

“I won’t,” said Theo. “Whatever it is, I’m good at keeping secrets.”

“All right. I’m only telling you this because you said once that your sister had been in and out of St. Mungo’s, and – She’s sick in her mind, isn’t she? Not her body.”

“Yes,” said Theo.

“My parents have been in St. Mungo’s since I was a year old. They can’t speak, they don’t recognize me. My mum’s given me bubble gum wrappers for my birthday for as long as I can remember. They’re insane because ...” Neville swallowed heavily, “they were tortured ... by Draco’s aunt and her husband.” His voice grew firmer and took on a sarcastic edge. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t feel like joining any groups she supports. No matter how many connections they have, inside or outside of Hogwarts.”

Theo felt dizzy. “I – Good God, Neville. I had no idea. I’m sorry.”

Neville looked at him levelly. “I believe you. But please think about what you’re doing. And don’t tell anyone about my family.”

He walked away in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Theo had a feeling his new friend’s trust in him was deeply shaken, although he’d said he believed Theo. He, on the other hand, trusted Neville implicitly. He had grown up with the same sort of dark family secret, and he was sure nobody would lie about a thing like that.

While Theo was still trying to take in what he had learned, Blaise appeared with a Ravenclaw boy he vaguely remembered seeing at last year’s Sorting.

“It can’t be as bad as all that, can it?” he said after the barest glance at Theo’s face. “You’ve hardly talked to any of us these last few days. What’s going on?”

Theo tried to wrap his mind around the whole situation, and concluded that it was worse than all that. He decided to start telling the story from the beginning. “Well, it happened like this. A few days ago Draco Malfoy said he had doubts about my loyalties, and I had to bring a guest to the next P.Y.L. meeting, or ...”

“No problem,” said Blaise briskly. “Meet Claudius Strathmore. I’m sure Malfoy would prefer that I didn’t bring any more guests, so he may as well be yours. Claudius, this is Theo. He’s going to sponsor you at tonight’s meeting.”

Claudius’ shoes were untied, and one of Buffy’s many descendants was perched on his shoulder. Theo tried to suppress the sudden surge of horror he felt. “Blaise, he’s a second-year!”

Blaise shrugged. “He’s pretty tall for his age.”

“Look ...” Theo glanced at his watch. It was almost time for the meeting, and even if he had been able to tell Neville’s secret, he certainly wasn’t about to do so in front of Claudius. “What I was going to tell you is that I’ve found out a few things, and I don’t think this is the sort of business kids should be mixed up in...”

“Claudius already agreed to go to the meeting. Didn’t you, Claudius?”

“You don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” Theo told the boy. “I’m actually not sure I’m going myself. I feel sick, to tell you the truth.”

“I want to,” said Claudius firmly.

“Oh, come on, Theo – if he’s got questions about your loyalty, don’t give him anything to hang them on. Go and puke on Malfoy, if you have to, but go. And Claudius is going whether you are or not.”

“But – Oh, never mind. I’ll go, and I suppose we can call Claudius my guest if he’s coming anyway. But I need to talk to you about something serious later.”

*          *          *

Draco Malfoy stood in the middle of the Come and Go Room and surveyed the members of the P.Y.L., who now numbered about thirty. His face was even whiter than usual, and he did not smile.

“I have,” he announced, “reason to think one or more of you have been plotting against me.” He walked over to the shelf where the bone cup they had used in the binding ritual was still standing. “This blood – our blood – is beginning to clot around the edges. As yet, no one has betrayed us – but someone has thought of it.”

He stared at one student after another: Moon and the rest of his gang of Ravenclaws, Malcolm Baddock, Millicent Bulstrode, Lisa Turpin, and then Theo. He seemed to be trying to bore into Theo’s head with his eyes. Mental control, thought Theo frantically, fighting to close off his mind. Last of all, after a moment that seemed to last forever, Draco turned to Blaise.

“Look around you,” Draco continued in a soft voice. “Ask yourself how many of your brothers and sisters you really trust. Ask yourself also what would happen to you if the things that have happened inside this room became known to outsiders. And finally, ask yourself what punishment those who conspire against our society deserve.”

Nobody made a sound. Theo was sure that the rest of the P.Y.L. members were remembering the night they practiced the Imperius curse, as he was. Apart from Claudius and one or two other guests who were visiting for the first time, every face in the room looked deeply troubled. The Slytherins, for the most part, were looking suspiciously one or another of the students from other Houses, most of whom had gone deathly pale. Only Blaise seemed unaffected; he was lounging against the bookcase with the air of one who was watching a mildly entertaining show.

“You know the cost of betrayal, and it is a price none of us can afford. Only one choice lies before every one of you. Faith – or death.”

A murmur ran through the room. Most of the students stopped trying to size up each other and merely stared at Draco in shock. Tracey whispered something to Daphne, and after a moment, Pansy bent her head close to theirs.

“I am going to take this cup of blood with me,” announced Draco. “It will be kept in a secure place known only to me – and I will know the minute one of you steps over the line. If and when it is time for that person to be punished, I will call on each and every person in this room who remains faithful to our ideals to help me – and I expect all of you to respond to that call without hesitation.”

He picked up the cup and left the room. Crabbe and Goyle followed, but nobody else did – not even Pansy, although Draco looked over his shoulder at her as he opened the door.

The murmurs grew louder after he was gone. “That was weird.” “Scary, was what it was.” “D’you think he really meant it?” “Gone off his head, sounded like.”

The other students drifted together into tight, chattering knots and went out, until only Theo and Blaise were left in the room.

Blaise appeared to be in high good humor. “He’s losing it,” he said, punching the air. “Absolutely-gone-over-the-edge crackers, and as of tonight everybody knows it. I knew he wouldn’t be able to play Fearless Leader for long, but this is a stroke of luck I didn’t expect. I think next week would be a good time for the recall election, don’t you?” He opened two bottles of butterbeer that seemed to have materialized out of thin air and handed one of them to Theo. “Cheers, old friend. We’ll do a bit of campaigning at breakfast, but I’d say Malfoy has already done most of our work for us. To new directions for the P.Y.L.”

Theo shook his head. “I’m quitting the P.Y.L. And I want you to leave too.”

“What? Where’d this come from?” Blaise asked, laughing.

“Just – trust me, Blaise. I can’t say very much because it’s somebody else’s secret, but what we’re getting into is bad news.”

“Oh, come on, spill. You know I can keep a secret.”

“I told you,” said Theo firmly. “It isn’t my secret, and I promised I wouldn’t repeat it to anyone, not even you.”

Blaise frowned. “Don’t you trust me any more?”

“I do. But that isn’t the point. The point is ... this other person doesn’t want anybody to know.”

Theo prepared himself for a barrage of questions about who this other person was, but to his relief Blaise only said, “This isn’t like you. What’s with you lately, anyway?”

“A lot of things. It’s complicated. Oh hell. I’ll tell you later. Some of it.”

Blaise shook his head. “You can’t just up and quit the P.Y.L. Malfoy had that much right. We’ve used an Unforgivable curse.”

You’ve used an Unforgivable curse, Theo thought. I don’t think they can send the rest of us to Azkaban for lame attempts.

Blaise stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you’re not yourself right now. You don’t look like you’ve had a decent night’s sleep in a week. We’ll talk about it when you’re thinking straight, and then you can tell me all about what’s going on with you. Now, drink up. To the downfall of our favorite ferret-faced snot – and all his inbred relatives.”

Theo clinked his bottle against Blaise’s. At least he could still drink to that.

 

                                                            *          *          *

“I asked you to bring me Longbottom, not some snot-nosed second-year Zabini probably picked out for you because you were too chicken to approach him yourself.” Draco Malfoy’s soft voice came from the depths of the other high-backed chair next to the fire.

“Longbottom isn’t going to join,” Theo said firmly. “I’ve sounded him out, and it’s no go. He’s – ” Theo thought of one of Medea’s phrases, and silently begged Neville for forgiveness – “a blood traitor, through and through.”

He hated himself for talking that way. He wanted to tell Draco where he could stick the Pureblood Youth League, but Crabbe and Goyle were gorging themselves on sweets at the other end of the common room and he didn’t dare go looking for trouble without some backup. Where was Blaise, he wondered?

“I’ll see about that,” said Draco darkly. “I’ll see if you’re telling the truth, too. And there’s another thing, Nott. Father’s heard about Zabini getting big ideas, and I know I didn’t tell him that. He must have got it from your family. Didn’t I tell you not to talk about the details of what goes on at our meetings?”

“I didn’t,” said Theo.

“Well, Crabbe and Goyle say they didn’t tell their families either, and Father’s version of the story sounded like it came from a friend of Zabini’s, so I don’t know who else it could have been. He’s got the impression that Zabini would be better at running the P.Y.L. than I am, which we all know isn’t true. If I find out you’ve been spreading that around, your next year and a half is going to be hell.”

“I haven’t,” said Theo shortly. He took out his green-covered copy of Hogwarts, a History, which Nick had assigned for next week’s classes, and pretended to be absorbed in it. He wanted nothing more than for the whole conversation to be at an end.

The fire burned lower and lower, and at long last Draco and his cronies went off to bed. Theo put Hogwarts, a History aside; he hadn’t taken in a word. He took a quill and a blank sheet of parchment out of his book bag and began to write to Professor Lupin.

He hid the letter hastily when Millicent Bulstrode came into the common room and plunked herself down in the chair next to him. He didn’t think she’d had time to read anything over his shoulder, but he felt relieved that he hadn’t yet begun to commit the story of the P.Y.L. to paper.

“You’re Zabini’s friend,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Theo, trying to ignore a slight edge of misgiving at the back of his mind.

“So tell me what’s the deal with that binding ritual. How can a cup of blood tell what people are thinking?”

“I don’t know,” said Theo, who had been wondering the same thing himself. “Maybe it can’t. The whole thing might be superstition.”

“You’re lying,” she said. “You do know how it works, you just won’t tell me.”

Theo blinked. “Well, no, Millicent, I really ...”

She swore under her breath. “You think you’re going somewhere after Zabini takes over? Forget it. People like us are nobody, and we’re always gonna be nobody. So don’t get the idea you’re better than me, all right?”

“Er –”

Millicent, who seemed to have been trying to stare him down, suddenly dropped her eyes to the floor. She twisted her fingers together and muttered, “I never meant to be a traitor, I just want to get out when I never should’ve been there in the first place. It was all a stupid mistake. Tell me how to quit without getting killed, and I swear I’ll never tell a soul about anything we did.”

“Honestly, Millicent, I don’t know. I will tell you if I find out. I promise.”

Their eyes met again. After a moment, she whispered, “All right. Thanks.” And then, almost in the same breath, she added, “But if you tell anybody we had this conversation, I’ll hex you into a bloody pulp, OK?” She stomped up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory, followed by Murgatroyd, her one-eared tomcat.

Theo had never known Millicent to ask permission to hex anybody into a bloody pulp before. He was still sitting there, bemused, when Blaise came into the common room. He dropped into the chair where Millicent had just been sitting, stretched out his long legs, and yawned. “So,” he said casually. “Tell me what’s been going on with you.”

“Well,” said Theo, “the latest thing is that Malfoy’s been putting pressure on me to get Longbottom to a meeting again. And – well, it isn’t my place to talk about it, but let’s just say Longbottom won’t. And I know that for a fact, because I’ve tried.” He decided not to revisit his own doubts about his membership. He knew that if Blaise got curious, he wouldn’t stop asking questions until he’d ferreted out the whole story, and he was determined not to betray Neville’s confidence. “I think he’s going to talk to Longbottom himself. The last thing he said was that he’d see if I was telling the truth.”

“Let him,” said Blaise. “If you’ve been trying for weeks and you haven’t succeeded, Malfoy certainly won’t.”

Theo thought his friend placed a slight emphasis on the word if. But perhaps it was his imagination.

“Besides,” Blaise added meditatively, “it’s not like Malfoy will be in charge of things for long, and I don’t think he really wants Longbottom in the P.Y.L. If he lets even one of those Gryffindor lions loose, I expect he’ll find out pretty quickly that he’s got more on his hands than he bargained for.”

*          *          *

Over the next few days, Theo continued writing his letter to Lupin whenever he could get away from his housemates: under the covers at night, in the library, all through one long afternoon at Hagrid’s hut when the others were watching the Quidditch match. He wrote down everything, except the story of the night they had practiced the Imperius curse – Medea’s madness, his suspicions about Lavinia and David’s deaths, how the P.Y.L. had been formed, what Draco had said about his aunt and about Professor Snape. As he wrote, he felt surer and surer that his first instinct to leave the P.Y.L. had been right; it helped to have the whole story down in black and white.

Even if Draco had been serious about killing traitors, he couldn’t follow through with it, could he? Surely none of the others would obey him?

All the same, as the letter grew longer, a heavy sense of dread began to settle on Theo, and he searched for excuses to postpone sending it. On Monday morning he decided he could put it off no longer. The next P.Y.L. meeting would take place tomorrow, and he desperately needed advice on how to get out.

He went to the Owlery and tied the letter to the leg of one of the school owls. It flew off, a little unsteady at first from the weight of such a large envelope, but slowly gaining balance and momentum and grace. He stood at the window and watched the owl until it was little more than a black dot disappearing on the horizon.

It was done. He couldn’t call it back now.

Looking down from the window, Theo saw one blond head and one dark one crossing the Quidditch pitch together. Draco, he thought, and Blaise. He wondered what they were saying to each other.

He turned and left the high-ceilinged owl roost once he was sure Malfoy was well out of range.

As he was coming down the stairway, he ran directly into Neville Longbottom. Neville’s round face was flushed, and he looked angrier than Theo had ever seen him. Before Theo could ask what was the matter, Neville punched him in the jaw.

“Damn you!” he shouted. “I trusted you! I thought you were my friend!”