Worser Angels

Chapter Two

History Of Magic

"Interesting History of Magic lesson today, wasn't it?" The Weasley boy popped up at his shoulder.

"Ron, I don't think you should--" The Granger person told him.

"Was it? I didn't notice." In fact he'd dozed through most of the lesson, knowing no one would be stupid enough actually attack him in class. He hadn't been sleeping very well the lastfew days.

"Really, I'd have thought you'd be interested. Binns was talking about the Torwald rebellion of 1836. "

"Uh-huh." What was his point? He was sure it was something nasty, but the setup was awfully tedious.

"My favorite part was when he said that all of Torwald's followers' property was forfeit to the Ministry." Draco must have looked blank, because he said "Don't you see? They were convicted of treason...and the Ministry confiscated all their land and money."

"Ron, that's really enough" Granger squealed.

Weasley grinned like an idiot. "You've been lording it over us ever since we started school because my family's poor and yours has--had -- money. At least we still have our house." He patted Malfoy's shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll let you have my hand-me-downs after I've finished with them. Won't be what you're used to, but your father can't provide any better for you."

"You're lying." Dumbledore--Snape--Mother--somebody would have said something.

Maybe they hadn't thought of it.

"Am I?" Weasley kept grinning. "Ask Hermione. She always pays attention in class."

Draco turned to her. "He's lying."

"Uh...Professor Binns did say--"

"Fuck!" Draco swung his fist at a nearby suit of armor, sending it toppling across the floor. Whipping out his wand, he screamed "Incendio! Incendio! Incendio!" Paintings, draperies, and every other flammable object in the corridor went up in flames. There were screams, and students fled.

It wasn't enough. He rounded on Weasley. "Cruc--"

"Stupefy."

The last thing he saw before he collapsed was Professor Snape.

#

"What in blazes--"

"Set the History corridor on fire," Snape said curtly, struggling to catch his breath. The boy looked fragile, but he was heavy. "Possibly broke his hand on Sir Crudoc's armor. And cam within a syllable of using one of the Unforgivables on Weasley." He dropped his burden on Dumbledore's sofa.

"What--"

"Flitwick put the fires out. No one's hurt."

"Good. Did you--"

"Stupefied him."

"Did you find--"

"Here's his wand."

"Severus. What happened?"

"I just told you." He examined Draco's hand, which was starting to swell. "Poppy will have to have a look at this."

"Why did Malfoy set the History corridor on fire?"

"I'm sure he had a good reason!" Severus knew he was being unreasonable. "Anyway, it could have been a lot worse."

"Yes, he could actually have performed on of the Unforgivable Curses. Did you see what happened, or didn't you?"

"I only caught the end. Weasley did something to provoke him."

"Finite Incantatem."

Draco sat up and rubbed his temples. "Ow. Ow. My head. What? Oh shit."

"Draco--"

"Oh, shit. Did I just kill Ron Weasley?"

"No," Snape said.

"Oh. Shit. I mean--"

"I know."

"It's good that I didn't actually kill him, but--"

"It was crucio, anyway. Not--the other one."

"Right. But that's--"

"You didn't finish it."

"Does that--am I going to prison now?"

"No," Snape said quickly. "Of course not."

"Am I getting expelled?"

"No. Of course not."

"Severus," Dumbledore interrupted. "I am still Headmaster here, am I not?"

"Yes, but--"

"Draco, what happened?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"I got mad."

"You got mad," Dumbledore repeated.

"Very mad."

"Draco," Snape said carefully, "What did Weasley say to you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That ship has sailed," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Why don't you just ask him?"

"I shall. But right now I'm asking you."

He sighed, and seemed about to say something, but then gave a little shake of his head.

"Draco. You have to let us help you."

"I don't need any help!"

It was almost unbearable to watch. Severus knew exactly what he meant. Not that he didn't want help, but that he was sure he couldn't be helped. And that admitting he was in over his head would deal a fatal blow to the pride that was all he had left.

"Look," Snape said, buying himself some time. "He must have a terrible reaction headache from doing all that magic. Why don't we give him a potion and let him sleep it off, and we can talk later."

Maybe by then he'd think of something, some way to get through to him.

"All right. I'll talk to the others first," Dumbledore agreed. "If you're sure you don't want me to hear your side first, Draco."

"Whatever. It doesn't matter."

Dumbledore poured some potion from a flask and handed it him. "You can rest here for a bit."

Draco nodded and drank the stuff down.

#

"I saw the whole thing," Dean Thomas said. "Ron was just telling him about History of Magic, because he missed part of the lecture, and all of the sudden he went berserk. Ron didn't do anything to provoke him."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas."

What rot. Weasley must have done something. But Dumbledore seemed to be swallowing it. "What were they talking about?"

"History of Magic."

"More specifically," Snape said icily.

"I didn't really hear the whole conversation," Thomas said evasively.

"But you know what it was about."

"Well....in History Binns was talking about how some traitor got all of his property confiscated. Ron thought it would be pretty funny if that happened to Malfoy."

Snape looked over at Dumbledore. No wonder Malfoy had lost his temper.

"It isn't. Funny. Not in the least."

"Uh...yeah. I mean, yes sir. No sir. It isn't funny."

"Thank you, Mr. Thomas," Dumbledore said again. "You may go."

Snape put his head in his hands. "Merlin's balls."

"It seems that this disaster could have been averted had Mr. Weasley's information only been more up-to-date," Dumbledore said mildly.

"Of all people, I should have thought to tell him the law had changed."

"You couldn't have known he'd find out about the old law like this."

He had a point. "I was right, though."

"Hm?"

"That it could have been worse. I ran off and got the Dark Mark when....what do a lot of rubbishy old paintings matter?"

"There is that."

"Professor Dumbledore!" Minerva McGonagall appeared in the doorway.

"Minerva." Albus handed her a cup of tea. "Weasley turned up yet?"

"Yes--he was out visiting Hagrid. He's quite shaken up."

"Naturally." Albus filled her in on what they'd found out.

Minerva frowned. "Albus...He really should be thrown out. If he actually has the ability to cast the Unforgivable Curses, and he can't control himself any better than--"

"Where do you suggest we send him His home, which is full to the rafters with Death Eaters, or Azkaban?" Snape demanded.

"It seems obvious that he's already a Dark wizard, even if he isn't officially a Death Eater. Sacrificing the rest of the school to an attempt to save him would be folly."

"Voldemort is not getting him."

"Why do you care? You cultivated him before because of his family connections, but now..."

"You're asking me why I don't want to see that child become a follower of Voldemort? Me?"

"I wonder why you're taking this so personally. Most of your House seems likely to go down that path, and you were happy enough to send Georges packing."

He ought to tell her. He reminds me of me. Or was that all? I want to do just one good thing, one thing that doesn't require me to consort with monsters. Or maybe Somebody saved me once. Instead he lied wildly. "I'm his godfather."

"You are?" Dumbledore looked surprised. "I didn't realize you were that close to the Malfoys."

He shrugged. He'd have to explain to Albus later. "It was the middle of a war. I was there." He had been there quite a bit. But Draco hadn't actually been christened.

Had he been, Voldemort probably would have stood godfather.

"Well..." Minerva looked flustered. "Nevertheless."

"If he's expelled, I'll leave too." What a stupid thing to say. Where would he go?

"Nobody is being expelled," Dumbledore pronounced. "Mr. Malfoy was...overwrought. We'll have to supervise him more closely to make sure that there are no further incidents. Severus, of course you'll be willing to take that on."

"Yes, of course." Damn.

"To deal with the matter of dangerous magic in the corridors, he'll serve two weeks of detention. He can start by helping you restore the History corridor to its former state."

"Of course."

"And I'll expect you to make certain he knows the full horrors of the Unforgivable curses. I can think of no one more suited to that task than you."

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape said meekly. He deserved that.

"Then we'd better see Weasley, Minerva, if he's ready."

Dumbledore greeted the Weasley brat like a long-lost son, and allowed the Granger girl to sit in on their meeting. Once tea and biscuits had been handed round, the girl burst out, "I told him not to do it! I could see Malfoy was getting really upset, and--Ron, how could you be so stupid?"

"Well, I didn't know he's completely lose it, did I? He always made fun of us for being poor. Now that the shoe's on the other foot--"

"Uh--" Hermione said.

"What?"

"I went to the library while you were at Hagrid's. That law was repealed in 1974. As long as there's someone in the family who's innocent, the property goes to them instead of to the Ministry. Draco's not poor, he's filthy rich."

"Dam--" Ron realized that his teachers were there and finished weakly, "--age. Then why'd he flip out like that?"

"He didn't know," Dumbledore answered. "And he's--well, he's under a great deal of strain."

Ron snorted.

Snape glared at him. "Do you think having your father killed and your family disgraced would be an amusing adventure, Mr. Weasley?"

"Uh...no sir." Weasley looked alarmed, and Severus was well aware that his words could be taken as a threat.

"I thought not."

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," Dumbledore interrupted, "I realize Mr. Malfoy has provoked you in the past. But I'd like to ask you--and Harry too--not to give him a taste of his own medicine at this difficult time. As a personal favor to me. The other students will follow your lead."

Weasley and Granger fell all over themselves to agree with this revolting bit of flattery. "Of course, Professor, we'll do what we can to help."

"And we'll make sure Harry knows," Granger added.

"Not that anybody in their right mind wants to wind up Malfoy anymore. Not if it's going to get them the Cruciatus Curse."

"You don't know for sure that's what he was going to say," the insufferable know-it-all put her oar in. "Lots of spells start with 'cr.' Why there's Crugello, and Crocite, and Crucible...Croesus, even."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," Snape interrupted this display of intellectual prowess. "We are all aware of the variety of spells that use that particular syllable."

She turned pink.

"As it happens," Snape continued smoothly, "She is correct. Malfoy did not actually utter the unforgivable curse. That he may or may not have been planning to is immaterial." As a legal argument it was flimsy, but the children seemed to buy it. He only hoped Granger didn't have the bright idea of looking up the case law, which offered ample precedent either way.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "You may rest assured that Malfoy will be appropriately punished for using dangerous magic in the corridors. And you're not hurt, so no harm done. Have another biscuit."

#

Draco woke up on the couch in Dumbledore's office, feeling like his head was stuffed with cotton wool and his tongue was twice its normal size.

Sleeping during the day took him like that.

It didn't take him long to remember why he was sleeping in the Headmaster's rooms. Snape had said he wouldn't be going to Azkaban, but did he really know?

He sat up and smoothed his hair back as best he could without a mirror. "Professor?" His voice was raspy. How long had he been asleep? He cleared his throat and tried again. "Professor Dumbledore? Professor Snape?"

No answer. Normally he'd have welcomed an opportunity to explore the Headmaster's office unsupervised. There were all sorts of interesting things in there--the sorting hat, some stuffed and mounted magical creatures, a celestial globe, and other things he couldn't even identify.

And all of the records of every student who'd ever been at Hogwarts. He'd once wanted to have a look at Father's files. To see if he'd really been Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, and top of his year in every subject.

But now none of those things aroused the slightest interest in him. He sat with his head in his hands and waited for someone to come and get him.

Slowly, he became aware of voices in the next room. Sure they were talking about him, he took up a place near the door, where he could make out what they were saying.

"...Not true." Snape, sounding irritated as usual. "Made it up...something she would accept."

"I rather thought so." Dumbledore. "The Malfoys are atheists, for one thing."

"Yes, well..."

"So what's the real reason?"

Reason for what?

"Oh, I don't know."

"Yes you do."

A long pause, then: "We used to have Death Eater meetings at the Manor, you know. Back then."

When? Last week?

"He was supposed to have nurses, but they were usually muggle women, and Voldemort was in the habit of killing them when he was bored. One night, after the real meeting was over but everyone was still sitting around boasting how many muggles they'd killed, I got disgusted with it and went upstairs to get away from them all for a bit. I was sitting under that fountain--you know the one. Tacky gilt basilisk."

"Mm. Yes, I've seen it."

So had Draco. It was in his house, after all. Or what had been his house.

"I heard a baby crying. I went looking for him and found Draco alone in the nursery, screaming his head off. His parents had probably forgotten he was alive. You-know-who has a way of doing that to people--making them forget anything matters except him."

Dumbledore mumbled something Draco couldn't catch, and Snape continued, "So I dragged the nurse's corpse out of the room, picked him up, and gave him a bottle. After that I tried to see him every time I was in the Malfoy house. I don't know why. Maybe because he was the only person in that family who didn't disgust me. Maybe to prove there was still something human in me."

Then he changed the subject, or seemed to. "You know, of course, that Lucius and Narcissa were very much in love, once upon a time. They lit up a room just by being in it. And Lucius would do the maddest things just to make her smile. He'd make up limericks, weave crowns of flowers for her hair, enchant birds and squirrels so they'd dance for her. And she...she laughed like a bell."

Draco couldn't imagine his parents like that. He even wondered, briefly, if Snape was talking about a different Lucius and Narcissa.

"That all changed when they became followers of Voldemort. They were still beautiful--you've seen them--but all of the love and joy drained out of them. Lucius became like a statue. Narcissa...She's more like a beautiful china doll with a great crack down its face."

Snape, Draco thought, might have been in love with his mother. Or possibly his father. It was all very confusing.

"I've never seen...never seen either of them smile or laugh or...well, anything. Everyone thinks of Potter and Evans as the golden couple, the Head Boy and Girl who Voldemort destroyed. I always thought of Lucius and Narcissa that way.

"One time Voldemort required a baby for something. Another of his life-extending spells. I'm sure I don't need to tell you they offered him...theirs. I managed to convince them a muggle infant would do just as well. But it was a very near thing."

"The boy who lived," Dumbledore said wryly.

"The children of Voldemort's followers were in as much or more danger as those of his enemies. Why do you think my House's numbers are down as much as any of the others'?" Dumbledore didn't answer, and Snape picked up the thread of his narrative. "I always expected them to die, or at least to be sent to Azkaban. I had in mind to offer to raise him when they were." A long pause, and then Snape said thickly, "And then I didn't see him again until he came up to school."

"I'm sorry, Severus."

"Eh. Well, that's the story, anyway. One of us had better go check on him. I don't know why he's stayed out this long."

Draco hurried back to the sofa and lay there trying to look as if he'd just woken up. He wasn't sure what was the biggest surprise--that his parents had once been in love, that they'd almost let Voldemort kill him, or that Snape--Snape--had taken care of him when he was a baby. And had wanted to raise him when they died.

What would that have been like? Growing up here, instead of in the echoing halls of Malfoy Manor?

If Father had to die, why hadn't he done it then?

Snape came in and stood over him. "You're awake," he said sourly.

"Yes. Just now."

"Hm. Well, you've got two weeks of detention."

"Is that all? I mean..."

"Yes, that's all. You haven't been expelled, that is. I'm to watch you and make sure you don't try to kill anyone else."

"Oh." That probably wouldn't be so bad.

"Yes. I'm not looking forward to it either." Snape sat down at the far end of the sofa. He cleared his throat. "We got out of Weasley what he said to upset you. You've got nothing to worry about. The law changed in 1974."

"Oh." He felt a bit stupid. He'd nearly killed Weasley over something that wasn't even true.

"Yes. The Ministry realized, belatedly, that stripping the innocent relatives of Voldemort's followers of their property would only create resentment. If you'd taken the Mark, you'd have a problem, but..." He took out a pocket watch and checked the time. "We'll get some supper and then start your detention. We're cleaning up the History corridor."

"Can we do that in two weeks?" Punishments usually involved doing things the muggle way, and he remembered inflicting a lot of damage.

"We're going to use magic, of course. Come on."