The Prefect's Portrait

Chapter 14: The Sacrificial Lamb

Hermione wondered if Hogwarts had ever been so full of secrets. By now, Lucius Malfoy must know that Professor Snape had been Dumbledore's spy for years. Was he angry, or disappointed, or envious, or pleased? There seemed little likelihood she would know any time soon. Not a hint of the Malfoys' presence had surfaced.

She met with Harry and Lily in the Reading Room, and they looked over their list of names and dates. This data, when combined with Voldemort's known murders--such as the massacre of the McKinnon family--created a persuasive pattern of revenge.

"Clever lad," remarked Lily, "to use the pureblood's own snobbery to destroy them. I wonder if he's still human enough to laugh about it."

Harry's eyes lost their focus, and he turned inward. "He laughs," he said tonelessly.

Since Voldemort's unsuccessful attempt at possession in the Department of Mysteries, Harry no longer received visions of Voldemort's waking activities. Voldemort seemed as desirous of keeping Harry out of his own thoughts as Harry himself could wish. Still, at night, in the dark, Harry wandered strange roads in his sleep. It seemed to him that Voldemort must also still sleep; and their dreams leached into one another's. It was a torment and a horror for Harry to visit these wastelands. He fiercely hoped that Voldemort found his dreams as disorienting and painful.

"We should show this to Severus," Lily suggested. "He might find it enlightening."

"You can show it to Snape," Harry said shortly. "I don't want to be any part of it."

Lily turned to Hermione. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

Hermione was not sure her presence would be helpful. "If you really want me to, I'll come, but it might irritate him."

"Rubbish! You're his very own potions slave, and he's well pleased with you!"

"Really?" Hermione was a little fluttered. "What exactly did he say about me?"

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. "I don't want to be there, but I do need to know what's said. In fact," he remarked thoughtfully, "we need a better way to communicate amongst ourselves. The charmed galleon was all very well for DA meetings, but too many people have them now, and we may need to talk at a distance. My dad and Sirius--" he ground to a halt, took a breath, and started again. "My dad and his friends had charmed mirrors they could use for private long distance communication. The three of us need something like that."

Hermione remembered an applicable text. "It's not really too hard! I know where to go to find the incantation. We need good quality mirrors, though."

Lily leaned back, looking dreamily at the ceiling. "They wouldn't need to be big. In fact, better that they be inconspicuous."

"And unbreakable," Harry added uncomfortably.

"You can charm a mirror surface onto lots of things," Lily pointed out. "Metal works well--especially silver."

Hermione made a few notes. "All right. This will be more complicated that the DA galleons. We want an unbreakable mirror of inconspicuous size. We want it charmed for communication, and charmed to alert us when someone needs to talk--just like the galleons!"

"We can use sickles!" Lily enthused. "And we can charm a hole in them and wear them on a cord around out necks like amulets. If we wear them under our clothes, no one will know. They can grow warm when someone has something to say!"

"Do we want more than three?" wondered Hermione. "Should we have extras in case of danger? We wouldn't have to give them all out right away--but whatever we make, we must make at the same time, or they'll never communicate well with each other."

It took two evenings to complete the work, but they soon had silver amulets that appeared to be ordinary sickles, but when reversed revealed a highly polished mirrored surface. Each was strung on a long black silk cord and disappeared under their robes. Three extras were made, and were hidden in their warded trunks. A soft call of 'Hermione's sickle," or "Lily's sickle" or "Harry's sickle," or a pattern of taps caused the amulets to grow warm. The receivers then had to find a discreet place to talk, since the devices would hardly remain a secret if they began chatting to sickles hung about their necks in class.

----

Blaise Zabini woke to the sound of strange, muffled whimpers. It was pitch black in the sixth-years' room, but for the faint blue glow from Nott's scrying glass. He looked across the room, toward Draco's bed, toward the source of the whimpering. Two large shapes loomed at the head and foot of the bed, hovering over Draco.

Crabbe and Goyle, he realised. They seemed to be trying to calm Draco down with gruff whispers. Blaise rubbed his eyes, and listened.

"Hold still?"

No! "Hold him still!"

Blaise pulled his wand from his wrist holster with one movement. "Lumos," he cried.

Light spilled out, illuminating every corner of the room, casting deep black shadows. Blaise squinted, his eyes dazzled. Crabbe and Goyle, surprised by the glare, tried to shield their eyes whilst holding on to the struggling Draco.

Blaise, horrified, saw that they were not soothing Draco, but smothering him. Goyle had his legs pinned, and Crabbe was holding a pillow over his face, pressing down, using his bodyweight to overcome Draco's frantic thrashing. A faint, high whining came from under the pillow, softer now; and Draco's feet, uncovered in the assault, twitched spasmodically. Draco's elaborate bed wards were useless against simple, brutal, physical attack.

"Stupefy!"

Blaise shouted, pointing his wand at Crabbe. His aim was true, but Crabbe was not a Beater for nothing. Slow of wit, but quick of reflex, Crabbe threw himself down on Draco. Goyle launched himself across the room at Blaise; and took no notice of Nott, sitting up sleepily in bed, croaking, "What's going on?"

"Get Snape! Now!" Blaise ordered.

Sleepy and confused, Nott rolled out of bed, and stared at the melee in the room. Crabbe was mercilessly smothering Draco; and Goyle, without even a wand, was grappling with Blaise for his. Nott snatched up his own wand, and gabbled, "Stupefy!" at Crabbe. It was not a very good spell, but it loosened Crabbe's grip on the pillow for a few seconds. Nott saw the pillow bounce from side to side as if of its own volition, and heard Draco's raw gasps for air.

Crabbe, furious, looked at Nott over his shoulder. His face, normally vacant, was red, suffused with killing rage. It was the face of a murderous stranger. The sight frightened Nott more than anything else: he scrambled over his bed and made for the door. Crabbe immediately snatched up the pillow and redoubled his efforts to smother Draco, who was pinned under his blanket.

Goyle was squeezing Blaise's wrist in a painful grip, and the wand fell to the floor with a faint wooden clatter. Shadows danced around them, and light shone out from underneath the bed. Before he could be rendered helpless under Goyle's greater weight, Blaise brought his knee up into Goyle's crotch, and slammed up with the heel of his hand into Goyle's great, doughy nose. Goyle groaned with pain and surprise. Blaise slithered away and fell off the bed, bruising elbow and knee, and felt wildly for his wand. His fingertips just brushed it, and then he had it in his hand.

He twisted, just as Goyle yanked his head up by his hair, and he screamed "Stupefy!" again. And meant it. Goyle toppled over, falling on Blaise.

"Ugh!" Blaise shoved impotently at the bloody dead weight. He could hear Crabbe's effortful grunts, and Draco's muffled mews, like a horrible parody of lovemaking. Blaise shortened his grip on his wand and was able to point it at Goyle again. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he commanded, and Goyle's limp body rose three feet in the air.

Crawling away, Blaise was finally able to turn and snarl a final "Stupefy!" at Crabbe, who promptly collapsed on Draco, as if satisfied. He levitated the massive body off of Draco, who fought his way free of his tangled bedclothes. Blaise moved both Crabbe and Goyle away from the beds, leaving them floating over the stone of the dormitory floor. Smiling, he said, "Finite Incantatem!" and dropped them with a satisfying crunch.

-----

Theodore Nott had first run next door to the room of the seventh year boys, and called for help.

Montague and the rest staggered out of bed, fairly alert. They had followed him to the door of the sixth year boys, and stopped warily. A fight was in progress, and it was not at all clear who was winning. The seventh years glanced at each other uneasily, but made no move to interfere.

"Come on!" shouted Nott, but the seventh years, with closed faces, seemed content to watch.

Nott pushed them aside furiously, running toward the common room. The other boys were crowding into the hall, asking what was going on. The girls piled out of their rooms, voices shrill as starlings.

Lily Jones, wraithlike in a pretty white gown, grabbed at him. "What's going on?"

"Crabbe and Goyle are trying to kill Draco! I've got to get Snape!"

Lily shoved him backwards. "I'll get Snape! You go help Draco!"

She hiked up her gown and sped down the hall. "Professor Snape! Professor Snape!"

-----

Snape's eyes opened in alarm. The subtle wards set for disturbances in the Slytherin dormitories were causing his scalp to prickle with their high, high whining. He rose with the ease of many years of interrupted sleep, and flung on a robe. A practised flick snapped his wand into his hand. He went first to his viewing window of the common room. It was an ancient and treasured secret of the Heads of Slytherin. The little snakes had no idea that the Ourobouros tapestry was charmed to act as a window allowing him to monitor nearly every corner of the common room.

Lily, in her night-gown, had appeared, calling for him. It was plainly an emergency; and he went through the fire directly into the Common Room, startling her horribly as he spun her around.

"What is it?" he asked brusquely, ignoring her gasp.

She grabbed his robe and pulled him toward the dormitory. "Crabbe and Goyle are killing Draco!"

Blazing, he brushed past her, his long strides leaving her behind.

His Slytherins were blocking the hall, whispering amongst themselves, trying to look unsurprised and knowledgeable. They dispersed like frightened geese as he bore down upon them, roaring.

"Out of my way! Everyone but sixth and seventh years to your rooms. AT ONCE!"

He shouldered the seventh year boys aside, hearing the last hostile snippets of a quarrel.

"----always remember what a help you were, Montague!"

"Sod off, Zabini! It's none of our business what the Death--" Montague did a double take at Snape, who glared blackly back as he pushed through the door.

Crabbe and Goyle were stupefied and bleeding on the floor. Zabini was holding a wand on the seventh years, angrier than Snape had even seen him. Nott had his wand out as well, sitting hunched on his bed, back to the wall. Most alarming was the sight of Draco. Blood from a broken nose covered his jaw and his chest. His bed was spattered, and there was a huge round bloodstain in the middle of his pillow. His wrists and hands were so badly bruised he could barely hold a wand. His eyes were rapidly blackening, and he swayed drunkenly as he tried to remain sitting up.

"Wands down! Montague! What happened?"

Montague was uneasy, but ready with an answer. "The sixth years were brawling, Professor. Some broken noses and knuckles. Crabbe and Goyle didn't have their wands, but Zabini pulled his on them and dropped them hard to the floor."

Snape rounded on him, voice icy. "And where were you, prefect?"

Montague replied stiffly, "I arrived too late to do anything. Zabini attacked them before I could stop him."

Blaise stared at him venomously, but made no attempt to shout him down.

Dismissing Montague with a contemptuous look, Snape conjured stretchers for the three injured students and prepared to move them to the Hospital Wing. Goyle looked particularly bad.

"Mr Nott, Mr Zabini."

"Professor?"

"Come along with me. We'll get the three of them to Madam Pomfrey, and then pay a visit to the Headmaster." At the head of the sorry cortege, Snape saw the students whispering, and growled, "All of you. Back to your rooms. Now." All but the sixth year girls fled. They alone huddled in the door of their room, waiting to see their classmates. Lily gave a little cry of anguish at Draco's injuries, but had not (thank the gods!) completely lost her wits.

"Miss Jones," he ordered, "run on ahead of us to the Hospital Wing. Alert Madam Pomfrey that I am bringing her three injured students. Two broken noses and a possible skull fracture. Other possible fractures as well."

Lily darted away in a flutter of white. Pansy was wide-eyed at the sight of Draco's mangled face.

"Will he be all right?" Her plea tore Snape's nerves like nails across a blackboard. He snarled, and she gulped and backed away, tearful. Millicent, quieter but equally horrified, stared at the huge contusion swelling Goyle's temple. Daphne hid behind the other girls, her bright eyes peering out fearfully. They shrank back into their room and closed the door.

-----

Hermione awakened with the sickle amulet nearly burning a hole in her chest. Lily? It was the middle of the night, but either Harry or Lily needed to speak to her. She slipped soundlessly out of bed, and slid her arms into a robe. The only sounds in the room were those of Lavender and Parvati, breathing quietly and evenly in deepest sleep. Crookshanks, making his nocturnal rounds, gave her a cat's blasé stare. She waved him a farewell, as she ran down to the Gryffindor common room. Once there, she knelt by the hearth, and by the glowing embers pulled out her amulet and looked at it. A tiny image of Lily, black eyes enormous, looked back at her impatiently.

"Lily! What it is?"

She had called Harry as well, for he was down the steps, his cloak over his arm, and already pulling out the amulet. He saw Hermione and joined her at the fireplace.

Lily's voice, soft but intelligible, replied, "There was an attempted murder in Slytherin tonight. Crabbe and Goyle tried to kill Draco in his sleep, but Blaise and Theodore fought them off. Severus just left Draco, Crabbe and Goyle in the Hospital Wing, and now he's taking Blaise and Theodore up to the Headmaster."

"Crabbe and Goyle!" Harry was astounded. "I can't believe it!'"

The little reflection gave a miniscule shrug. "Not so loyal, it seems. I heard Blaise telling Severus that they weren't even using magic: they were holding Draco down in his bed and trying to smother him with a pillow. They almost succeeded."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, thinking the same thing. Hermione said, "It must be related to the Malfoys defecting from Voldemort."

"It would be just the sort of revenge Voldemort would like," agreed Harry. He frowned. "You mean Snape left Malfoy there in the Hospital Wing with the ones who just tried to kill him?"

Lily snorted. "They're neither of them in any shape to cause trouble. Goyle has a fractured skull, and Crabbe a nasty concussion. Blaise sorted them out pretty thoroughly."

Hermione bit her lip. "Could they have been under Imperius? I mean, they must have known they'd be caught."

"I don't know," Lily said. "I only heard part of the conversation. I'm supposed to be on my way back to my dormitory now, but I wanted you to know that our friend Oldyfart has infiltrated Hogwarts, one way or another. Keep your eyes open."

-----

"I'm most impressed with young Mr Zabini," Dumbledore remarked, after the boys were dismissed.

"There's more there than meets the eye," Snape agreed. "He has quite a flair for defending himself. This year, he's been less hesitant about showing it."

"Luckily for Draco Malfoy."

"Indeed."

Dumbledore sighed. "Once the two boys are well enough, we shall have to examine them for magical controls of all sort, and then question them. A sad business."

"I've already asked Poppy to check their blood for potions. Whatever we find, though, we can hardly send them home. They'd be off to the Dark Lord in a trice."

"Sending them to the Ministry could be as bad as simply expelling them. Poppy will be co-operative about keeping them in the Hospital Wing for the foreseeable future. We will need to get Draco away from them, though."

Snape gave a mirthless laugh. "His appearance may be a blow to his not inconsiderable vanity, but he wasn't that badly hurt. He should be back in class tomorrow, somewhat the worse for wear."

"We ought to inform Draco's parents of his injuries."

"Why?" Snape asked. "There is nothing they can do for him that Poppy cannot do better. Narcissa will worry, and Lucius might lose his head and seek revenge recklessly."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Nonetheless, they are his parents, and they will feel greater concern for him than even Poppy can." He sucked thoughtfully on a sweet. "Besides, dear boy, between the ghosts, the pictures, and the very walls of this castle, Lucius and Narcissa are bound to find out about the attack. All Hogwarts will know by breakfast tomorrow."

----

"I need to see him," Narcissa repeated for perhaps the tenth time. Dumbledore had pressed a soothing cup of tea on her, but it was forgotten as she twisted a lock of her long blonde hair. Her husband paced the floor. Lucius Malfoy had gone from captivity in Azkaban to the paranoid claustrophobia of Little Hangleton, and now to the forced inactivity of Hogwarts. Though sharing a room with Narcissa after several months separation had its pleasurable aspect, he was now ready to do something other than make love to her all day long. The news that his son had been attacked had him wild with the desire to do something violent and painful to his enemies.

"What are you waiting for?" Lucius asked bitterly. "You know where the Dark Lord is now. I can lead you to the very house. I've given you the names of his supporters in the Ministry. I've told you the names of the three Aurors who are under Imperius. Let's go kill the bastard now, before he changes all the wards and all the schedules." Dumbledore gave him a bland smile. Lucius was not done. "I've told you the truth. You had your pet Potions master dose me with Veritaserum until I was bloody near comatose."

"All in good time," the Headmaster said. "I have no doubt you told the truth, as far as that goes. Until I have some independent verification, however, it is not clear how much of the truth you told. Surprises are not always delightful."

Lucius hissed with disgust and impatience. Narcissa looked imploringly at him.

"I need to see him."

Malfoy looked away from his distraught wife, and at the two wizards who had so thoroughly deceived him for so long. Dumbledore, that clever, slippery old devil, playing the holy fool--and Snape, his trusted spy. Is he right, or does Snape have his own agenda? My bloody world is tottering!

"Yes," he finally agreed. First things first. "We must see Draco." He shot Dumbledore a cold look. "At the very least, he needs to know that I was not party to a plot to kill him. He deserves to understand what has happened."

Dumbledore smiled mildly and considered a moment. "Very well."

Snape spoke up. "It would be best if you came with us, Headmaster." He deflected Malfoy's hostility with a shrug. "If I alone accompany his parents, Draco might believe we were all Death Eaters together. Your presence will prove beyond all doubt that we oppose Voldemort."

He enunciated the name carefully, with a lift of his chin. Malfoy raised an astonished eyebrow, but nodded his agreement. Narcissa was already up and at the door. Lucius followed her and caught her by the hand.

Dumbledore led them through the dark, empty halls. They were silent, until Narcissa whispered to her husband, "I wanted to have another child in '86, but you said no. This is why having an only child is such a bad idea!"

Lucius raised his eyes with a long-suffering expression. "My dear, we discussed it thoroughly and agreed--"

"I never agreed," Narcissa interrupted rebelliously. "I just submitted. I've always let you make the decisions, but this time I'm going to decide. If we live through this, I'm going to have another baby."

Lucius wisely forbore to argue at the moment, and only squeezed her hand with a condescending smile. Dumbledore and Snape, walking in front on them, pretended they were not listening.

They entered the cool, quiet room, and Dumbledore took Madam Pomfrey aside, explaining the situation to the startled witch with a few hushed words. Snape led the Malfoys to their son's bed.

Narcissa whimpered at the sight of her son's bruised and bandaged face. Lucius put his arm around her, his jaw tightening with fury at the thought of an attack on something of his.

Draco was asleep, but at a gentle touch, he painfully squeezed his eyes open and saw his mother's lovely face, haloed with witch-light. She smiled at him tremulously.

"Mother?" he whispered. His eyes moved, and he took in the unbelievable sight of his father standing in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. "Father?"

"We're here, Draco," Lucius assured him.

Draco's eyes slid to Snape, and he began to panic; but Dumbledore appeared beside them, and said, "It's quite all right, my boy. Your parents have been at Hogwarts for nearly a week, after escaping from Voldemort."

"Then--" Draco's mouth was horribly dry. He stared at Snape with growing terror. "But--"

Snape smiled crookedly. "Mr Malfoy. Things are not always what they seem."

Draco was still trying to take it all it. "Then you're all against him." He decided that the thought was not disagreeable. He explored it further. "You're against the Dark Lord, and that's why I was attacked."

Narcissa made a soft, dreadful sound. Lucius, tense and edgy, told him, "I had no idea that the Dark Lord would sacrifice you to have his revenge on me. I never, never wanted to put you in danger. If you believe nothing else, believe that."

"But it fits," Draco tried to explain, but felt himself falling back into a doze. "It's just as Lily said. He hates us. He always has. It's all part of his plan to destroy the purebloods and..." His voice trailed off, and he was once more asleep.

"Lily?" Lucius turned to Snape. "Was he talking about that girlfriend of his? What has the girl been telling people?"

Snape twitched unpleasantly at the word "girlfriend." He traded sneers with his oldest friend/enemy. "I have no idea."

But I'll bloody well find out.