Snakes and Lions

Woken Again

Harry did not get much sleep. He was awoken by another magical announcement, this one telling all students to dress and report to their common rooms.

"Can't," murmured Draco. "No point in going to the Gryffy one." With that, he fell back to sleep. Harry let him.

Whether from guilt or a twisted sense of humor, Harry found himself drawn to the shirt that Draco had transfigured to green. While he was covering it with his school robe, he looked up and saw Ron watching him.

"What?"

"Vivid shirt, that. Present from the Slytherin?"

Harry smiled sweetly. "It matches my eyes," he teased.

"Ewww!" Ron made an exaggerated revolted face and turned away.

Harry thought he was probably joking, but ... "Ron?" Harry asked seriously.

"What?"

"Is that okay?"

"Yeah, fine." Ron flashed him a smile. "I mean, if you want to wear green, sometimes, I'm sure it's not my business."

Harry laughed. They went down to the common room together.

To Harry's surprise, Professor McGonagall was not in the common room. Instead, they were greeted by Professor Vector.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm afraid your head of house cannot be present. She was injured in the second attack --" Vector held up a hand for silence, "but is recovering nicely. She should be back at her duties by midweek, at the latest.

"As I'm certain you are all aware, Hogwarts was attacked a second time last night, by a larger, but less competent group, and the attackers were again routed. One of the Care of Magical Creatures buildings was burned, and the Crups, sadly, both perished, but we had no human fatalities."

Professor Vector waited a moment for the sad exclamations to die down. The Crups they had been studying with Hagrid were well-liked. A few people were wiping at tears as she continued:

"Everyone must stay away from the ruined buildings, unless with a supervised salvage team. We will start rebuilding operations this afternoon, but you may all take the morning to do as you please, including going back to bed, should you wish it. Mr. Potter, the headmaster requests that you come speak to him sometime before dinner."

Harry nodded.

After answering a few questions, Professor Vector left. Harry didn't think he would be able to get back to sleep. He nudged Ron.

"Huhn?"

"When Draco wakes up, tell him what she said, okay? I need to go do something."

"Words of doom," Ron muttered, but he smiled as he said it. "All right. Take care, Harry."

After some thought as to where the headmaster was likely to be, Harry went to the Hospital wing. He was correct. Dumbledore was sitting in a chair beside the bed of a sleeping Professor McGonagall. He looked very tired.

"Professor Dumbledore?"

"Harry?" the headmaster looked up in surprise. "Did you come to check on Professor McGonagall? She really will be fine."

"I need to talk to you."

Dumbledore nodded, then slowly pushed himself out of the chair. "Poppy?" he called. "I am returning to my office." Madame Pomfrey called back an acknowledgment. Dumbledore began speaking to Harry as they walked through the empty corridors.

"I do need to make a full report to the Ministry, as a death was involved, but you should not let it worry you, Harry. It certainly could wait until after breakfast."

"I wouldn't assume I'm untouchable."

"Nonetheless. From what I could see of the battle, you did not kill Bellatrix Lestrange directly, and even if you had, you would not be in trouble with the Ministry. Lestrange was an Azkaban escapee of the most dangerous classification. Legally, you had the right to respond with deadly violence to any threat from her."

"That's barbaric."

Dumbledore thought about his response for a moment. "I agree," he said finally. "In this case, however, it is to your advantage."

"And in Sirius's?"

"Ah. Yes, Sirius is vulnerable by the same ruling. Barbaric."

After that, they were silent until they reached Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore called down to the kitchens for tea, then sat behind his desk.

"You still seem worried, Harry," he said. "Did you come to give me your report of Lestrange's death?"

Harry dug his fingers into his hair. "Yes, but...."

Dumbledore considered him thoughtfully. "You are welcome to talk about anything that is troubling you. The report for the ministry can wait."

"I ... I've been ..." Harry's voice failed. He tried again. "I took the dragon with ..." Harry groaned and risked a glance up. Dumbledore was regarding him with evident concern. Harry considered just handing his wand over and telling the headmaster to cast prior incantato on it, but he was afraid Dumbledore might snap it before getting an explanation.

"Go on."

"Imperius." Harry looked down, but once the word was out, he found he could speak, again. "I took over the dragon with the Imperius Curse, and made it thrash. Draco burnt through the strap she was using to hold on."

There was a long enough silence that Harry had to look up. Professor Dumbledore's face was frighteningly expressionless.

"I have heard," Dumbledore said mildly, "that the Imperius Curse is difficult to cast."

Harry, understanding the implied question, nodded. "It took me four tries, and some outside help, the first time," he admitted.

"And when was that?"

"A few weeks ago."

The headmaster's eyes closed briefly in a pained expression. Harry felt awful. Perhaps he should have waited until after breakfast, if only for Professor Dumbledore's sake. Dumbledore sighed. "Harry.... Draco Malfoy taught you this, I presume?"

"No!" Of course, he would think that, Harry realized belatedly. "Draco had nothing to do with it. He was furious when he realized -- He screamed at me and called me a hypocrite, and ... other things." Harry bit his lip. "And he found out right before he left, so I've spent all week worrying...."

Dumbledore's eyes widened suddenly. "Severus," he whispered. "That is what he was...." A flash of annoyance crossed his face. Harry guessed he was wishing he had pursued Draco's complaints further. "Did Professor Snape teach you this?"

"Er ... Yes, sir." And I should have warned him. It will be my fault if he gets --

In an instant, Dumbledore was on his feet and moving for the fireplace. Harry had not seen him look so angry since he took on Barty Crouch, Jr..

"Wait!" Harry cried.

Dumbledore stopped. For a moment, he stood completely still, then he slowly turned.

"If you have something to add, Harry, please do so promptly."

"It wasn't his ... his idea. I asked him to teach me. And we only did it on snakes."

Dumbledore's expression remained grim, but he sat back down behind his desk, Professor Snape still unsummoned.

"I suppose you feel rather betrayed by both of us," Harry said awkwardly.

"Yes, Harry. I do."

Harry swallowed. "Sorry."

"I want you to tell me exactly what you did, and what he did. Then, I will speak to Severus. You were correct to stop me." Dumbledore rubbed the bridge of his nose, under where his glasses rested. He replaced them and peered over the lenses at Harry. "Harry ... to start, why did you wish to learn the Imperius Curse?"

Harry spent a while explaining about his "how to beat Voldemort" project, and his idea for using Nagini against the Death Eaters. He summarized advancing the idea to Snape, and Snape's lessons for him, emphasizing his own culpability and glossing over any place where Snape had suggested he do more. When he finished, Dumbledore looked calmer, although still uncharacteristically solemn.

"Well," he said.

The tea appeared. Dumbledore poured cups for both of them.

"Sugar, Harry?"

"One, please."

"I'll leave the milk to you. It is impossible to explain the correct quantity of milk to another person."

Harry added milk to his tea, getting it to the right color. "Headmaster?" he asked tentatively. "How much trouble am I in?"

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Is that your only concern?"

"Well, I've already promised Draco I'll stop. He pointed out I could have used a Panic curse on the Vipertooth, just as effectively. Mostly I want to know if I'm going to get expelled, or arrested."

"Draco Malfoy doesn't want you using Dark Arts?" Dumbledore almost sounded amused. Harry allowed himself a smile.

"He told me he has enough Dark wizards in his life, and really has no use for another one." Dumbledore's mouth twitched. Harry thought he had almost gotten a smile. Harry shivered. "The quiris look so horrible, now. You can't imagine how frightening they are."

"Professor Snape has a most interesting reaction to them. Of course, they are not enamored of him, either." Dumbledore took a sip of his tea and looked thoughtfully at Harry. "Are the quiris themselves frightening, or does it frighten you that they appear repulsive to you?"

"Both."

"Good." Dumbledore studied him for a minute. "I don't see that expelling you would improve your behavior in any way -- most likely to the contrary -- and you have not shown any sign of being a danger to the other students."

Harry relaxed slightly.

"The reaction of the Ministry of Magic is a bit more problematic. While it is not necessarily illegal to use the Imperius Curse on an animal, it is illegal to do so in order to cause harm. Similarly, it is not illegal to kill an Azkaban escapee of Lestrange's status, but to do so with Dark Arts, even indirectly ... I will need to say what you did."

"Do you wish to protect me, sir?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's eyes flashed with anger. "I would not consider lying for you."

"That was not what I asked."

Dumbledore frowned. "Explain."

"Honestly, the person most directly responsible for Lestrange's death is Draco, not me, and he did nothing unacceptable. He could easily say what he did, without specifying how I caused the dragon to start thrashing ... If he is willing, of course. Would that lessen the chance they would require details of me?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes," he admitted. "Harry... I am glad that you told me. However, my day would be much simpler if I did not know of this. I will need to rethink a number of decisions." Dumbledore put down his tea. He went back to the hearth and tossed a pinch of powder on the fire. "Severus Snape," he said calmly.

Snape's head appeared in the flames.

"What now, Albus? I'm busy rearranging my rooms, as you know."

"Leave it. I need to speak to you."

"What about?"

"I will explain when you are in my office."

Harry felt terrible. He should have spoken to Snape before confessing, he knew, but he had been afraid the Potions master would talk him out of going to Dumbledore -- and Harry knew he needed to do that.

When Snape stepped out of the fireplace, Harry said quickly:

"I'm sorry, professor -- I confessed everything. I made it clear, though, that --"

"Silencio!"

Harry's voice stopped. He could still breath, and move his mouth, but he could not make a single sound. The headmaster put away his wand.

"I thought I had best silence Mr. Potter, before he thoughtfully informed you exactly what he told me," he said to Professor Snape. "Please sit, Severus."

Snape sat, and looked over at Harry. "Thank you for the attempt, Potter," he said. "Next time, please consider that Professor Dumbledore is not a total fool."

"If you have finished with pleasantries, Severus?"

"Albus," Severus acknowledged.

"Please tell me what you did."

"I don't suppose you would inform me as to what we are discussing."

"If there are multiple matters of possible relevance, Severus, I am truly alarmed. Tea?"

Snape shook his head. He scowled at the tray for a moment, then looked up, sighing.

"I taught him the Imperius Curse. What else do you wish to know?"

"Why, Severus?" Dumbledore challenged. "I understand your divided loyalties with respect to Draco Malfoy, and realize you are occasionally put into the position of helping him, and other children of your ... associates. However, you are not the Hogwarts tutor for Dark Arts. We do not teach Dark Arts at Hogwarts ... or so I had believed."

"I taught him because his strategy is sound." Snape looked at Dumbledore's mild, but unyielding, disapproval and exploded. "Damn it, Albus, you know we need him to win! And the boy is finally trying! And there is nothing wrong with using the Imperius Curse on a snake."

"There is nothing illegal about using the Imperius Curse on a snake."

"I assure you, Albus," Snape growled, "my ... 'associates' will not confine themselves to spells you find acceptable, when next he encounters them." He scowled. "I suppose you may fire me now."

"Fire you, Severus?" Dumbledore asked mildly.

Snape glowered at him. "I have become expendable, have I not? I am not longer of use as a spy."

"True." Dumbledore smiled. "But I have grown accustomed to your constant gloomy presence -- something to make the rest of the world look sunnier. And you are still one of the three greatest Potions masters in Europe." He pushed the teapot and a clean cup slightly towards Snape. "Please give me your account of what happened, Severus."

"Must it be in front of him?" Snape growled, gesturing to Harry.

"I think we have established sufficient agreement," Dumbledore acknowledged. He pointed his wand at Harry. "Finite Incantantum. You may go, Harry."

"I have one more thing to confess," Harry said quickly.

Dumbledore looked at him. "Not more Dark Arts, I hope."

"Yes. In January. Command Spirit."

Dumbledore took a moment to absorb this. His expression hardened. "You know, Harry," he said grimly, "if you are that interested in making things obey you, you might do better to learn to integrate your not-inconsiderable charisma with your impressive reputation, so you might inspire obedience rather than magically coercing it."

Harry looked steadily at him. Dumbledore, he knew, inspired obedience quite well. "Admirably expressed, sir, but I doubt it would have worked on a Peruvian Vipertooth."

Snape snorted. "He's right, Albus. It is rather restricted to things that can understand what you say."

After promising to talk in more detail with Dumbledore later in the week, Harry left the headmaster's office. It was still too early for breakfast. Feeling strangely light-hearted, he walked back up to Gryffindor tower. Ron hailed him as soon as he entered the common room.

"Your ferret's upstairs, getting his knickers in a twist over not having money. You owe me for not rubbing his face in it."

"Later," Harry agreed. He continued up the sixth-year boys' dormitory. Draco was lying, fully dressed, on Harry's bed. He looked more sullen than upset.

"Hi," Harry said.

"Where have you been?" Draco demanded.

"Talking to Dumbledore, like I promised. What's wrong?"

Draco growled. "I'll be disinherited." He looked frantic. "What am I going to ... I expected to be able to negotiate! He'd want to avoid a scandal. But the idiot had to get caught with his mask on, and...!" Draco looked at Harry again. "What do I do?"

"Get a rich boyfriend?" Harry quipped.

Draco, to his surprise, exploded. He jumped up from the bed. "You fucking arsehole! Do you think you --"

Harry caught at Draco's wrists before Draco could pull out his wand. "Sorry! Sorry, Draco, I was joking! Joke, Draco!" When Draco stopped pulling against him, he slipped his hold from Draco's wrists to his hands. "I didn't ... I thought I was flirting."

"I'm not in the mood."

"Sorry," Harry said again.

"I thought you ..." Draco tugged a hand slightly, and Harry released it. Draco rubbed at his eyes. "Sorry. I badly need sleep."

"Can your father disinherit you, if he's in prison?" Harry asked. "Sorry if that's a stupid question. I don't know how these things work."

Draco scowled. "I'm not sure. I remember a murder case ..." He thought. "The ministry can disallow it, when it's a prisoner against a witness, but they usually don't. It requires a separate challenge ...." The scowl had evened out to a thoughtful look. "Perhaps I should speak to a solicitor before absolutely panicking."

"Ask Dumbledore, when you speak to him -- he needs to speak to you today. And really -- you could survive without the money. You're very clever."

"It's not the money."

"No?"

"It's the ..." Draco waved his arms in imprecise arcs ... "the stuff that goes with it. The houses and lands. The things that have been in the family long enough to give historians wet dreams. I don't know who I am without that." He bit his lip. "And I don't want to find out, no matter who thinks it would be good for me."

Draco sat back down on the edge of the bed and stared thoughtfully in the direction of the windows. Harry sat beside him.

"Can I help?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," Draco mused. He had started to look more intrigued than sullen. "I think it depends on Mother. Whomever she supports will win this battle. And she will support whomever she believes will win. A circular problem." He laughed.

"If you can convince her that whoever she supports will win...."

"Yes. Then I just have to convince her she'd rather be getting her money from me than from him. That might be difficult, though. If he's in prison, he can't really interfere with her fun, now can he?"

"Would you?"

"Of course not. She's my mother." Draco scowled. "But that just brings me even with him."

Harry nodded.

"And then, there's the political situation."

"The immediate one, or long-term?"

"Long-term, if Voldemort loses, I think I am well positioned."

"With me and Dumbledore," Harry clarified, amused.

"Exactly." Draco looked coyly at him and Harry smiled. "Even short-term ... I can reposition myself in Slytherin -- it will just take some time and effort -- working on people I have mostly ignored. A few of my old allies may be approachable from a different direction." He sighed. "But then, there are father's friends and associates, and the extended family -- that will split, I suppose. It's going to be messy." By now, Draco looked almost cheerful.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked.

"I'm just tallying up my uncles and aunts," Draco answered. He looked absently down at his hands. "Which ones Mother favors may matter."

"You," Harry accused, "are having fun."

"I," Draco countered haughtily, "am going to win." He smirked at Harry for a moment, then slowly started to look wistful. "One thing you can do for me..."

"What?"

Draco glanced down. "Don't touch me in public. Don't ... stand too close. Sorry."

Harry tried not to look hurt. "Whatever you like," he said quietly.

"Until I find out how Mother feels about it," Draco explained. "She may be fine. Especially if I imply -- misleadingly -- that an obsession with you will give her more control over my children."

Harry, once again, felt that Draco was getting substantially ahead of him in plans. "Er... Draco?"

"I'm just brainstorming. Don't read too much into it. We haven't even decided if we're seeing each other, right? But publicly, for now, we're not. And Mother always thinks ten years ahead. I need to think fifteen ahead, at least."

"And all of Gryffindor seeing me kiss you won't be a problem?"

"Who does Mother know in Gryffindor? Oh, my house will hear, eventually, but you know," Draco smiled -- "An impetuous Gryffindor, bits of dead monster glistening in the moonlight ... it was easier just to go along with it."

"Actually, the wing kind of bothered me."

"But it's too good a line not to use again. And it really is how my house thinks of yours."