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 55

Chapter Summary:
Something to put personal problems in perspective...
Posted:
02/22/2004
Hits:
14,016



Attacks


Harry woke up feeling relaxed. On the way to the bathroom, he passed Ron. Ron set his lips in a thin line and walked past without speaking. Harry suddenly felt a lot worse.

He washed, combed his hair, and pinned the front strands back. With his glasses off, he evaluated himself in the mirror. He looked like a stranger, but a wizardly one. He knew he would need to cut his hair soon, which made him feel like a child playing dress-up. It wasn't a bad feeling, he thought, just silly. He stuck his tongue out at his reflection, and left for breakfast.

"Has Ron been awful?" Hermione asked, when Harry met her on the stairs. "He wouldn't even say good morning to me."

"He just ignored me, that's all." Harry said.

"I'm sorry. This is my fault."

Harry shrugged. "In part. But it's his decision."

Hermione sighed. "You're wearing your hair like that, again," she said, frowning.

"Do you like it?"

"Not really. You look like some old wizard."

"That's rather the point. Growing my hair reminds people that I have no senior male relatives."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh," she said.

"And pulling it back looks ... distinctive."

She giggled. "Uh-huh."


Before they even entered the Great Hall, they knew something was wrong. The hubbub of conversation had a strained, anxious tone. Harry scanned around the hall as he entered it. Draco was sitting with Goyle and Goyle's girlfriend, his attention focused on a newspaper. Without stopping to think, Harry strode over to him.

"What happened?"

Draco gave a harsh laugh. "Monster's night out, courtesy of You-Know-Who." Goyle gave them a puzzled look. Harry got the impression Draco wasn't thinking well, either. "Here."

The Daily Prophet he thrust at Harry had two huge headlines:

Werewolf Terror -- Trent Durand, Ministry Official, Mauled

and

Dementor Attacks Wipe Out Two Mixed Families in Hogsmeade

"Hell." Harry began to read:

Popular Appleby Arrows Beater, Trent Durand, and Cassandra Dunn, press secretary for the Department for the Control of Magical Creatures, were the latest victims of a WFU (Wolven Freedom Union) campaign of deliberate werewolf attacks. Neither victim was killed, but both were viciously bitten and assumed infected. Both Mr. Durand and Mrs. Dunn are currently under observation at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

Durand was walking home from a post-game party to his London flat, when attacked. His companion, Miss Jeanette LaFey, was unharmed --

"If everyone would please be seated," came Dumbledore's magically amplified voice, "and quiet, I have a few announcements to make."

Harry gave Draco back his paper. Hermione, to his surprise, was still standing near him. Together, he and Hermione moved quickly over to the Gryffindor table, taking the first available seats. Harry looked up at the staff table while they waited for others to settle. Remus, although he did not usually attend meals in the day after a change, was at his seat. Harry wasn't sure this would help his image, any. The werewolf's debilitated condition was apparent at a glance, and would remind people of his disease. Severus, two seats away, was glowering dangerously.

"Poor Professor Lupin," Hermione said. "People will hold it against him. It's so unfair!"

He knew,

Harry thought dizzily, remembering Remus with his eyes shut against the letter. He's probably not involved, but he knew. Still, he couldn't help but feel sorry for Remus, who did look miserable. He might share his suspicions with Hermione later, but not in public.

"And Snape's furious," Harry muttered, trying to refocus. "I wouldn't try to talk to him, now."

"I'd think he'd have known," Hermione whispered. Harry flinched. The reminder made him wonder if Remus was spying, but had not got enough information. In that case, though, would Snape's dark glare be shot at him so often?

"I believe most of you have heard the news," Professor Dumbledore said, "but if not, in brief: There were two attacks, last night. The first was by the WFU, an extremist werewolf rights group allied with Voldemort. As last month, they attacked to infect, not to kill. Whereas last month's attack had a single, Ministry target, this month they attacked a Ministry target, and a popular one -- a Quidditch player, Trent Durand."

The noise at that revealed that many people had not known -- there was a general low growling rumble of talk, and a few dismayed shrieks from girls. Madam Hooch, Harry noticed now, was slumped in her seat in front of an empty plate.

"It is my hope that you are all intelligent and mature enough to not hold this attack against all werewolves, just as we do not hold all pureblood wizards responsible for the actions of the Death Eaters."

Or all half-blood wizards responsible for the actions of Lord Voldemort,

Harry added to himself.

The rumble had an undercurrent that Harry did not like. He guessed that many of the students were quite willing to hold the attack against all werewolves. Certainly Severus was openly glaring at Remus, and Professor Sprout regarding him with visible distaste.

"So much for their improving relations," Harry muttered to Hermione.

"Please," Dumbledore said. "Silence." The rumble faded to scattered whispers, and the headmaster continued.

"The second attack took place in Hogsmeade, and had fatalities. That one appears to have been a joint effort by Dementors and humans -- in Voldemort's service. Two families, both with one Muggle-born parent, were attacked in their homes, and all members either received the Dementor's kiss, or were destroyed by the killing curse. The Dark Mark was raised above both houses. Aurors joined members of the Hogwarts staff and certain skilled citizens of the town, and we managed to foil at least three other targeted attacks. I fear that remote villages will be more vulnerable.

"I will leave you to mull over the greater implications of this on your own, but we have some immediate, practical, repercussions. First, today's Hogsmeade leave has been rescheduled to next Saturday." Some of the third years made disappointed or complaining noises, and were promptly shushed by older students. "The town is in mourning," Dumbledore said severely. "It is in no mood for student high spirits, or even low ones. You will all enjoy the visit more, next week. A few popular merchants have indicated they may stay open an extra hour to accommodate next Saturday's Quidditch match, which will start at nine o'clock, rather than eleven.

"Second, a few parents who have been educating their children at home have asked for asylum at Hogwarts. We have many unused rooms up on the fourth floor, and I will be blocking off an area for their use. We will have some entire families, some younger children, and a few children of school age, with tutors. I ask that you treat these people courteously when you encounter them, which should not happen frequently. We may find meals slightly less elaborate as the house-elves acquire more duties, but that should be the only effect on our daily lives.

"Third, anyone who wishes to discuss their thoughts or fears on these matters is welcome to talk to their head of house, Madam Pomfrey, or me. I will be maintaining office hours all day tomorrow, and from the end of classes to dinnertime on Monday through to Thursday, next week. During these times, there will be no password on my door.

"Finally, I instruct you to treat each other with the respect and courtesy that all your staff and fellow students deserve.

"Now, please eat, before the food grows cold."


The first Howler arrived near the end of breakfast, after about half the students had left. Remus sliced it open and listened dully to screamed obscene attacks on his character, accusations of murderous designs upon his students, and, eventually, threats.

When the third one arrived, the headmaster pointed his wand at it, and it imploded in a cloud of crimson smoke. His voice carried to Harry's seat as he said:

"Professor Lupin, if you plan to listen to all of this vitriol -- which I do not recommend -- I must request you eat in your rooms. I would prefer not to expose the children to such an abundance of bad language, bad manners, and bad logic."

Remus stood unsteadily. He swayed when he nodded to the headmaster. Harry glanced at his father and saw the man was regarding Remus with open hatred. Harry stood and hurried to the end of the staff table. He intercepted Remus there, on the other's way to the door.

"Yes, Harry?" Remus asked resignedly.

Harry realized, with dismay, that Remus was waiting for an attack. He shifted uneasily. "Don't listen to them," he said. "They're not worth that."

"I will do as I feel best."

Harry nodded, unable to speak. Spontaneously, he laid a hand on Remus's shoulder.

"Potter, return to your seat this instant!" Severus snarled.

"Now, Severus --" Dumbledore soothed.

"The boy is a student! He does not belong here. Nor should he be petting his inhuman teacher in front of --"

"Professor Lupin is most certainly human, Snape, despite his disease."

"His disease makes him an animal!"

"Only one night a month --"

Remus fled. Harry turned his back on the staff table and strode to his seat to speak to Hermione. He could still hear the adults' voices, though not their words, when he reached her. He turned back in time to see Severus storm out of the room. When he turned in the doorway, his robes went high enough to show the tops of his boots. Harry wasn't at all amused.

"I need to be alone," he told Hermione. "I'll see you this afternoon, okay? Don't worry about me."

She nodded silently. He could see tears glistening in her eyes. Awkwardly, he hugged her. "Sorry," he said. "I won't be any help right now."

"I understand," she said. "I'll be up in my dormitory, or the library."

Ginny came over to them and stood uncertainly nearby. Harry reached out and caught her hand, and joined it with Hermione's. "Take care of Hermione for me, will you, Ginny?"

"'Course," Ginny said.

Harry left.


Harry left the school building and walked away from it. The day was bright and sunny, but chill. Although he had no conscious destination, he soon found himself at the shore of the lake, listening to the comforting, soft sound of water lapping against the stones. He walked along the shoreline until he came to a grove of aspen. The slender trees were never so close that a person could not easily walk between them, but their interwoven branches shaded all the ground. The filtered light, already green from the leaves overhead, glowed on a thick carpet of moss.

Harry walked to the center of the grove and stopped. "Dementors," he muttered. Even as depressed as he was, he knew he had to try to summon a Patronus.

He had not dared to attempt the spell since he had discovered that James was not his real father. He had been afraid the stag might not appear for him.

This was not the ideal time to make the experiment. He was anxious about the attacks, aching for the victims, and, above all, distraught that Remus, one of the few adults he trusted, might not deserve his trust. He tried to think of something happy that was not so far in his past as to seem unreal. There was Hermione, leaning back against him, saying "you're a good person, Harry," but too much sorrow and fear was tied up in the time around that. He considered his father, whispering "I love you," in the dark, but that was also bound by fear and deception.

He needed something simple, he thought, but winning the Quidditch Cup wouldn't do now -- that was lost innocence, really. Flying, by itself, might. He thought of flying, and tried to capture a moment of it -- racing madly through the air, shouting "far goal hoops!" to Draco, lying flat to his broom for the greatest speed ....

"Expecto Patronum!"

His Patronus was still a corporeal stag. It shot from his wand in a glory of silver, galloped twice around the mossy grove, and finally, stopped silently, his shimmering flank just out of Harry's reach. The stag pawed once at the ground, then brought his antler-crowned head high. Slowly, he turned his head to Harry. His dark eyes locked on Harry's green ones, and Harry felt as if his heart and breath had stopped. With effort, he broke through the intensity and uncertainty and took a step towards the noble creature.

"James?" he whispered.

The stag laid back his magnificent antlers to stretch out a silver nose to Harry. Harry could not keep himself from reaching to touch it, even though he was certain he could not. A soft breath caressed his hand as he extended it, then, inevitably, the stag faded into silver mist. Harry sunk to his knees on the soft moss and bowed his head.


He was not sure how long he knelt there. He might have stayed until his legs fell asleep had he not been disturbed. A rustle of leaves sent Harry scrambling frantically to his feet. He found himself in dueling stance, wand out, facing a rather startled-looking Draco Malfoy.

"It's just me," Draco said.

"And of course you're safe!" Harry exclaimed. He couldn't restrain a hysterical laugh. Draco clenched his jaw and turned pink.

"Sorry," Harry said. He lowered his wand. "Really. I am. But imagine seeing this in a crystal ball, last year."

Draco shrugged, and managed a slight smile. "Professor Trelawny?" he whined. "This one's broken. I just saw myself reassuring Potter."

Harry managed a smile. "Obviously impossible," he said. He jerked his head towards the water. "Sit by the shore?"

Draco shrugged. "This is fine." He looked around a moment, then chose a rock by a tree trunk and sat there. Harry selected another one, close by. "Lovely spot, actually," Draco said. He smirked at Harry. "All silver and green."

"A bit of gold." Harry pointed to some turning leaves, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Ah, yes. The dying bits."

Harry's laugh came out in a painful burst of breath. He wasn't sure it was funny. Draco ignored the rude sound and pointed at the ground. "Look -- hoofprints!"

Harry nodded. "There was a stag."

Draco's pale eyes flashed up to him. A shrewd expression crossed his face. "Yours?"

"Yeah," Harry admitted. "I've had such a shitty week, I decided I better make certain I still could."

"Any trouble?"

"No."

Draco nodded quickly. "Good."

Harry watched the Slytherin shift uncomfortably. Draco leaned back against the tree, and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. "Odd, isn't it?" he said. "Dementors and ... wizards. Most wizards couldn't do that."

Harry hadn't thought about that. "That is strange," he agreed. "They'd have to be either very secure, or very dumb, I'd think."

"Professor Snape told me he'd devised a potion to dull the effects of proximity to a Dementor," Draco remarked, at a casual drawl. "Perhaps they had something of that sort."

Harry's heart skipped a beat. That would do it. Severus had never told him what he had made on Sunday. And seeing the use of it would leave him in a rage, with his usual tendency to send it somewhere else. Of course, Draco -- He belatedly wondered if Draco intended to betray Snape to him. He looked at Draco, and found pale eyes watching him steadily. Harry wondered uneasily what had showed on his face.

"Or perhaps they used one of the Dark Arts spells to restrict emotion," Harry suggested coolly. "In any case, it would be better not to speak of that, I believe."

Pale lashes dropped over the grey eyes. Draco shuddered once, then looked up again, his face schooled to cool amusement.

"The paper listed the poor victims," he said mockingly. "The baker's family -- did you know?"

Harry shook his head. Draco's voice lost some of its edge.

"His daughter was a beautiful girl. She worked behind the counter, sometimes. I always wondered why I couldn't get anywhere with her."

A muscle twitched at the back of Draco's jaw. He laughed harshly. "I never knew about her mother. I'd probably been holding forth on the fate of Mudbloods and Muggles and other enemies of the Dark Lord half the times I was in there. No matter how I smiled at her, she always spoke to anyone else, instead. If I went in with Blaise, she talked to Blaise. She'd talk to Crabbe before me. Blaise said she must not like blonds." He shivered. "She doesn't care now, I suppose."

"Kissed?" Harry managed.

Draco nodded. "The parents were executed. Dementors took the half-blood children." He leaned forward and rested his forehead on one hand. The other stayed clenched in a fist beside him. "I couldn't be expected to know," he complained. "It's a wizarding village. I didn't know there were Muggle-borns there!"

Harry didn't know what to say. He dug his thumb under a section of moss, marring the emerald green with clots of black loam.

Draco straightened up. His arms locked across his chest again, but his head stayed down. "Are we still on for tomorrow?" he asked sullenly.

Harry bit his lip. "'Course," he said, as if the decision did not tear at him.

Draco relaxed slightly. "Thank you," he said. He stood, and Harry did the same. "I am pleased to have you as my friend," Draco said formally. He held out his hand, and Harry shook it. Draco's hand was as cold as the stones, but his eyes never wavered. He nodded afterwards, then turned and walked away, leaving Harry standing in the midst of the silver tree trunks, wondering if either had them had just conceded something, and if everything had always been so complicated.

He looked down, and saw the mirrored crescent mark of a deer's split hoof. Harry nodded to himself. If nothing else, it was time to reread a letter.




Author notes: Chapter 56 -- Trust and Distrust