Rating:
R
House:
Schnoogle
Characters:
Draco Malfoy Harry Potter Remus Lupin Severus Snape
Genres:
Drama Angst
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Order of the Phoenix
Stats:
Published: 09/13/2003
Updated: 09/20/2004
Words: 335,561
Chapters: 81
Hits: 1,465,159

Blood Magic

GatewayGirl

Story Summary:
Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry safe, but his relatives are expendable. Blood magic was supposed to keep Harry looking like his adoptive father, but it's wearing off. Blood is a bond, but so is the memory of hate -- or love.
Read Story On:

Chapter 48

Posted:
02/16/2004
Hits:
13,604



Another Room


Harry showed up to Care of Magical Creatures a few minutes late.

"Yeh missed the start o' class, Harry," Hagrid warned.

"Sorry," Harry said. "I lost track of time."

"I was jus' tellin' everybody that this is our last day wi' the wyverns. They'll be headin' off to the Ural Dragon Preserve in the mornin'."

"Is that where they're from?" Ron asked.

Hagrid's cheery face grew grim. "Nah. These three came from the Shetlands. Poachers killed the third female, and made off with what eggs they didn' trample in their rush." Hagrid was visibly distressed by this tragedy. "Some people think interestin' creatures are just fer their personal money-makin'. No consideration fer them at all."

Nott snickered. Hermione glared at her. Before that could escalate, Harry interrupted.

"If this is the last day, may I try talking to them, Hagrid? I can tell them what's going to happen."

"Well...." Hagrid said uncertainly. He brightened. "Yeah, yeh do that, Harry. Still a bit hard ter manage, these ones are."

Which, Harry thought, was an understatement. None of the students had been able to get in beak's reach of the aviary during their two weeks of study. On the other hand, if the wyverns' previous experience with humans was an encounter with some poachers who killed their mate and young, that wasn't surprising.

Cautiously, Harry approached the cage.

"Hello," he hissed. Behind him, people flinched. Susan Bones let out a little yelp of fear. Harry looked back and saw Ron standing casually, a bored look on his face, as if Harry did this all the time and it was hardly worth noticing. Nott, on the other hand, had gone pale, while Zabini looked eager and intrigued. Parvati looked like Harry had just done something disgusting.

The wyverns responded to his greeting with defiant birdlike screeches. "I can't understand you," Harry said carefully. Parseltongue didn't seem to have the concept of "sorry." Harry thought this difficult, but a bit funny.

The wyverns grew agitated. The male reared up and flapped his wings like a crowing rooster while he screeched.

"I know what happened to you," Harry hissed above the din. "I am sad for your eggs." The wyverns quieted at this. The male and the blue female hunched down and looked miserable. The other female stretched up and gave a single, sad screech.

"After next dawn, people will come to take you to a safe place, where egg-crushers are kept away."

The male became very agitated and flew in circles at the edge of the cage. The green female slithered like a snake towards Harry, her upper body erect, so her wings did not catch on the ground, and her taloned feet held comically out to the side. Someone giggled nervously.

"It is not a cage, like this," Harry told them. "It is a part of the world, with big spaces of no people and many high crags."

The green wyvern came all the way to the bars. She stood up like a bird, cocked her head to the side, and made a sad, inquiring noise. Harry thought it was a heartbreaking sound. He stepped towards her, and put his hands on one iron bar. "I promise."

"Harry!" Hagrid called warningly.

Harry reached through the bars and scritched the side of the wyvern's scaly face. "It will be a good place," he told her. "I wish you many children, there."

The wyvern trilled.


Harry and Ron said goodbye to Hermione after class, and headed straight down to the pitch. It was a little while before the rest of the team was due to arrive, but not enough time to do more than walk to the tower and back. Harry sat in the stands, roughly where he had sat with Draco, and braced himself for the inevitable interrogation, but Ron didn't seem to know how to start it. After a few throat-clearings and strangled sounds, he finally said:

"It's weird to sit this low. And to be here with the place empty."

Harry nodded. He would never have chosen these seats for a game; they were too far down. "I ate lunch with Draco here, once," he commented. "Actually, I'd been eating up there --" he pointed at the goal rings -- "but Draco came, and we sat here to talk. He kept snitching pieces of my cake." Harry thought. "I guess that was just this Monday. We were talking about the Kerner Dark Detector. God, that seems like months ago!"

Ron hunched up a bit. He looked miserable.

"Would you rather I didn't talk about him?" Harry asked. "Look," he said, "considering last practice, I think it's important that you and I be on great terms -- genuinely, if possible, but if not we should fake it -- or we're going to tear the team apart."

Ron nodded. "Yeah. I was thinking the same thing." He took an audible breath. "Um... Harry, I have to ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Malfoy ... Is he, y'know ... your boyfriendorsomething?"

"WHAT?" Harry yelped, his voice cracking at the end of it. He cleared his throat. "Ron!"

"Oh, good!" said Ron, with a sigh of relief. "Because I was going to have to tell you I could handle that, and I don't think I could have, really."

Harry laughed. "Well, thank you for your unnecessary support, I suppose. Now you just need to handle him being my sort-of friend."

"In comparison, that doesn't seem so bad," Ron observed. He appeared to be too relieved to be embarrassed. "So, about these night wanderings --"

"I don't want to talk about it," Harry interrupted firmly.

"Well, I wish you would. But talk or not, you can't keep doing this."

"It's none of your business, Ron."

"What?" Ron said indignantly. "Excuse me, Harry, but I happen to be a Gryffindor prefect! If someone doesn't come back by ten, I'm supposed to report them directly to McGonagall. I can't keep ignoring this because it's you!"

"Oh." Harry considered that. It would be a problem for Ron and Hermione, he realized belatedly. "Sorry, then. I'll try to be more discreet."

"I don't want you to be discreet, I want you to stop doing it!" Ron snapped.

Harry bit back an angry yell. "I understand your position," he said coldly. "Now, I think we'd better discuss something less volatile, if we wish to be on amicable terms when the others arrive." He paused for a moment. "What on earth made you think I was involved with Malfoy?" he asked incredulously

"That -- This morning, when I asked who you were with, and you started babbling about different sorts of love, and...."

Harry laughed. "We were both far too tired for a meaningful conversation," he noted.

"Well, now that we're awake," Ron pressed, "What was it you were you trying to say?"

Harry tried to remember what he had said and why. In retrospect, it hadn't had much to do with what Ron had asked.

"Mainly, that you're still important to me," he said carefully, "even if we have been treating each other like crap for most of the past two weeks. But I'd been walking back to Gryffindor thinking about family and friends and love and trust and emotional courage, and my mind was all still lost in that, so I'm not surprised if what I said didn't make sense." Harry grinned. "The word "love," for example, would never have come into it without that."

"I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend, recently."

"Me too," Harry shrugged. "But I'm sort of stuck."

"Please tell me what's wrong?" Ron begged.

"Nothing's wrong."

"And I'm the Minister of Magic!"

Harry grinned. "Well, he's frequently wrong, but that's beside the point."

"Harry!"

"Look, there's nothing wrong that you could possibly help me with, okay? Come on, now, people are arriving -- I can hear Jack's laugh. We're best friends, right?"

"Right," Ron said dully.

"And nothing is wrong. Remember that."


Ron came back from Quidditch practice flushed and smiling, though Ginny, at his side, looked less happy. Hermione, waiting at the bust of Thalia the Capricious, was pleased to note that the corridor was long enough that she could see their approach before she could hear their voices. Ron had chosen the place well.

Ginny stopped in front of Hermione and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why," she demanded, "are you going back to this surveillance scheme?"

"Harry was out until just before dawn, this morning. He's coming back ... well, under the influence of something. Malfoy saw him with Snape, so I think it's a potion, not a Muggle drug."

"We want to catch him at it, so we can sit on him and make him talk to us," Ron interrupted.

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh. "So you want to map the dungeons?"

"So we can see when he meets Snape and where he goes."

"We should map the Room of Requirement, too," Hermione added.

"I'm not even sure that will work," Ginny said. "I mean, if you map the DA meeting place, will Harry show if he's in his little lounge?"

"A ten minute experiment will determine that," Hermione said primly.

"Well, let's do that now," Ron suggested. "That way, Ginny can see how it works, and we can figure out how this job divides with three." He moaned. "I still don't know what I'll say if Harry catches us!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You tell him it was going to be his Christmas present, of course. Honestly!"


They had a bit of trouble with the experiment. Hermione had said they should map the smaller space, then see what happened in the big one. She tried to get it first, walking up and down and thinking intently that she needed Harry's private room. To her surprise, she had opened the door on a spacious and welcoming bedroom, decorated mostly in green and blue, with golden woods and gilt flourishes. It had a single window, hung with a cerulean drape.

"What is this?" Ron asked, entering behind her.

"I don't know. I asked it for Harry's private room."

Ginny looked around in wonder. "This isn't like his bedroom at the Dursley's is it?" she asked.

Ron snorted. "Not even close."

Hermione closed the door and crossed to the window, then put her face to the glass and her hands up to block the light from eyes. "It's in the castle, somewhere. I can see Hagrid's."

"Wait!" Ron exclaimed. "Did you ask in words?"

"Of course."

"I've never tried that. What did you say?"

"I thought," Hermione corrected, "'Harry's private room.'"

"So, do you think Harry does have a secret private room?" Ron asked. "I mean, I could fall asleep here." He vaulted on to the high, canopied bed and flopped down on it, then settled his hands behind his head. He stared up at the blue canopy. "Except I might have nightmares I'd been sorted into Ravenclaw."

"Would that be horrible?" Hermione asked scathingly.

"Yes! In Ravenclaw, I'd be like Neville."

"Perhaps Harry is going to stay and be a teacher," Ginny suggested. "Perhaps this will be his room."

"Why would Harry be a teacher?" Ron asked, mystified.

Ginny shrugged. "He's good at it. Zoe says he talks about it."

Hermione felt an unjustifiable flash of jealousy. Harry had never talked about that with her. She looked out the window while she examined the feeling. Harry and I don't talk any more, do we? I ask him where he's been and he refuses to answer me. I have no idea what's going on in the parts of his life he might be willing to share. The jealousy was replaced by a pang of guilt, and longing. I could be with him, now, instead of plotting how to track him down next week. I wonder if he's studying with Zoe?

"This is so weird," Ron commented, getting out of the bed and starting to prowl around. He opened the wardrobe. "Look! It's got his dress robes!" He ran a hand down the spectacular red one. "I caught a glimpse of this our first night back. I wonder what would happen if I tried to take it out of here?"

"It vanishes as soon as you leave," Hermione commented absently. "I tried that with some of the books, last year."

"Well, if it's his room, now," Ron said, "we should search the towers to find it. We have the window view to help."

"Perhaps it was his room over the summer!" Hermione exclaimed.

"That's an idea," Ron said approvingly.

"We're getting distracted," Ginny said sharply.

"I suppose," Hermione agreed reluctantly.

"Uh, Hermione?" Ron asked. She looked over. He was standing by the bedside table, and looking down into the open drawer.

"Yes?"

"Look at this."

Hermione came up and looked in the drawer. It contained Harry's Sneakascope, Omnioculars, and lock-pick set, and ten potion vials, six dark, and four light. Ron picked up one of the light ones. Held up, it was clearly pink. He tipped it slowly back and forth. "Bubble stuff," he decided. He put that back and picked up a dark one. This was a green potion. Tipped, it did not look at all viscous. Ron shook it, and it fizzed. Quickly, he popped the top off and downed it.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in alarm.

"I'm pretty certain this is the muscle relaxant," Ron answered, coughing slightly on the froth. "That's how he took it."

"You don't need a muscle relaxant!"

"No, I don't. I want to know what this feels like, though." He looked questioningly at Hermione. "If I leave the room, does this all vanish from my body?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Let's hang out here a bit, then."

Ginny sat in the window seat. "We'll miss dinner," she complained.

"A true Weasley," Ron said, with mocking pride.

"Well, we will! This was supposed to be quick, remember? And I've been flying for two hours. I'm starving!"

"She's got a point, Ron," Hermione said, noting Ginny's edgy tone and judging the younger girl genuinely needed food. "Let's wait ten minutes more to see what you feel, then go get dinner, then come back and do the mapping test. Is that all right, Ginny?"

"I suppose," Ginny said moodily. "Hand me my bag -- I'll sketch the view while we're waiting. That will at least be useful."


After dinner, Ron and Hermione disappeared off somewhere. Harry, who was expecting to be questioned more, felt unexpectedly put out at the reprieve. After noting that Seamus, Dean, and Neville were all in the Common room, he went up to their dormitory to work on his independent study and appreciate having the room to himself. The afternoon mist had settled in to a steady rain, and the soft patter of raindrops against the windows sounded pleasant from the cozy, warm room. He had finished his factual part of the paper on the Dark Arts Components Act of 1981, and had reached the point at which he should discuss the messy ethical considerations. He really felt he'd had enough of messy ethical considerations for a while. His other independent study paper was one on changes in Wizarding law in Britain during Voldemort's first rise to power. Many of the names were disturbingly familiar, but the history was mostly new to him. He hadn't realized how mainstream support for Voldemort had been. That was no less disturbing than reading about the Longbottoms, the Figgs, and the Potters, or the Malfoys, the Blacks, and the Notts. Frowning, Harry pushed his books aside, and picked up a fresh piece of parchment. He began to write.

Dear Fred and George,

How the shop? School is okay, but I have been fighting with Ron and Hermione. They seem to think it their business where I go without them. Ron waited up for me, last night, or tried to, and ended up falling asleep in the common room. How do you stop him from scolding? He's acting like Percy did, at his age.

We had wonderful fun with my birthday present. The Mood Wings were a big hit -- Hermione even tried them! Certain people (okay, he's not quite like Percy was) made good use of the ventriloquism drops, as well.

The Quidditch schedule came out this week, and our first game (and only Autumn game) is on Saturday, October the fifth, against Ravenclaw. I'd be happy to have you visit. (It makes me look so well-behaved!) Our new team members are young, but working out well. How did you manage with me as a first year? That seems so young, now. We have Teresa, a second-year, and Iggy, a third-year, both as Chasers. I think staggering the team ages will be beneficial in the long run, but we're having a bit of trouble melding, which is not made better by my fights with Ron.

Also, could I send you on a trip to Muggle London? I know there will be a Halloween ball, this year, though it hasn't been announced yet. (I was at dinner when the professors agreed on it, during the summer.) I bought some sexy Muggle trousers, but neglected to get an appropriate shirt. Perhaps we could consult on it while you're here, and you could send me something by owl post, later?

Harry added a request for Muggle cigarettes, erased it, added it again, and erased it again. He eventually sighed and signed off on the letter, and sealed it to take up to the Owlery. Now, he decided, was as good a time as any. Perhaps the walk would clear his head for writing. He headed out.





Chapter 49: Mapping Enemy Territory