Lumos Obscurum

Chapter 5 - The Curse

The next time Harry woke the morning sun was creeping through the window, casting light over himself laying on the bed, and over a bundle of blankets breathing gently on the floor next to him.

Oh... so Draco hadn't waken him up when he went to sleep the night before, but had simply contented himself with kipping on the floor in Harry's usual place. Harry frowned. He didn't quite know what to make of this.

Harry rolled over out of bed and decided to forego his shower that morning as he would probably have to step directly on top of Draco in order to make it out the door. He randomly selected clothes from his closet and dressed himself in silence.

When he had finished he quietly took a seat back on to the bed, staring distantly out the window in front of him. He couldn't help but think of the events that had transpired the previous day. He had nearly murdered someone in cold blood, for hardly any reason... and he had enjoyed it.

If I had waited even a few more seconds before releasing his throat... He stared down at his feet as the thought faded away. As miserable as the thoughts of what had happened were making him, he knew that a small part of him wouldn't mind experiencing the incredible feelings again. In fact, it would almost welcome them...

He looked back up toward the window again and was startled by the sight that beheld him. All thoughts of the day before flew from his mind as he squinted, watching a small, dark shape flying erratically against the sun. It seemed to be growing larger. What... oh! With a gasp of astonishment he realised what it was: an owl! It had been so long since he had seen one other than his own.

Harry leapt forward and threw open the window, feeling a draft of the cold early morning air on his skin. A moment later, a tiny feather ball pelted into his bedroom. "Pig!" he exclaimed, catching Ron's puny owl in one hand and untying the rolled -up sheet of parchment from his small leg, barely hearing the racket Hedwig was making in her cage.

He held the letter in one hand and put Pig in Hedwig's cage with the other, allowing the owl to take a refreshing drink of water before heading off again (Hedwig ruffled her feathers indignantly at the intrusion). He saw out of the corner of his eye that Draco had sat up with a start, tangled in the blankets. "Whassa matter?" he said groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

"Ron's owl just came with a letter," Harry said as he excitedly unrolled the parchment.

"Brilliant. Remind me to thank him later for waking me up at this god forsaken hour," Draco groaned as he laid back down, throwing the covers back over his head.

"Mmmm," Harry murmured distractedly, for he was already reading the letter that was scribbled in Ron's messy handwriting.

Harry,

How's your summer been? Mine hasn't been that great. Things are kind of dull 'round here now with Fred and George gone. Don't ever think of telling them this, but I sort of miss their jokes and explosions, they added a bit of atmosphere around here, know what I mean? Now the only noise here is from that sodding ghoul that's still banging around in the attic.

Hope those Muggles are treating you okay. If they aren't, you know to give us a holler, right? We'd put a stop to it.

But good news, mate! Dumbledore's finally given Mum permission to invite you over for the rest of the holidays! So you won't have to suffer with your aunt and uncle for much longer after all. Don't be surprised if you haven't heard from Hermione yet, apparently she spent the last month on holiday in Italy with her parents. She's here now, though, and she says hello.

Send a reply back with Pig, and we'll come for you on Tuesday. Dad's got a new car, so you won't have to worry about whether the fireplace is blocked up or not. It's funny, Mum's been telling him that he'd better not put any flying charms on this car or else she'd beat his ears in with a frying pan. So Dad's decided to put every charm he could think of other than flying ones on the car. Shhh - don't mention it to Mum!

We'll see you on Tuesday then, Harry, hang in there!

- Ron

P.S. Percy's still a great git. He hasn’t changed. Do us all a favour and don’t mention him when you come round, Ginny has a tendency to hex something when his name comes up.

P.P.S. But Charlie's come home for the summer! Seems he feels the need to look after Mum, even though Gin and I are perfectly capable of doing it. Oh well, at least now he's the one Mum's waking up at the crack of dawn to de-gnome the garden, not me.

Harry set Ron's letter down on his desk slowly, feeling uneasy. Under normal circumstances he'd be more than thrilled at the prospect of heading to the Burrow for the rest of the summer. But, he thought with a glace over at the prone Slytherin, things are a tad more complicated right now.

He sighed. How was he supposed to convince Draco to come with him to the Weasley's house? Moreover, how was he supposed to get the Weasley's to actually take the son of Lucius Malfoy, whom had harassed the Weasleys for ages, for the entire two weeks that are left?

"Oh it's no use," Draco's irritated voice interrupted his thoughts. Harry looked over and saw that the other boy was sitting up. "I can't get back to sleep."

Harry opened his mouth to make a smart comment about how Draco needed every second of beauty sleep he could get, but found that his voice got caught in his throat. His mouth stayed agape as he stared at the other boy. He had expected the wounds from their fight to be even worse today (he could already feel that his own jaw was slightly swelled up), but from what he could see now, Draco's skin was flawless.

Draco was staring back at him, looking somewhat amused. "Close your mouth Potter, you look like a fish." Then he shuddered. "Hope your skin doesn't have scales..."

Harry's mouth closed with a snap, and crossed the room to get a better view of the blond boy. But despite the new angle, he couldn't see any evidence that Draco had been involved in a scuffle the day before.

"What are you staring at, Potter?" Draco drawled.

"Your face," Harry said, spellbound.

At Draco's raised eyebrows, he hurriedly added, “I mean there aren’t any scraps or bruises on your face or neck. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Ah,” Draco said, standing up rather quickly. “Is that all?” he asked as he gathered up some clean clothes.

“Did you do another spell? A healing spell? But the Ministry would find out, wouldn’t they?”

“I didn’t do a spell. I just heal quickly, that’s all.”

“But to heal overnight...”

“I heal fast, Potter, that’s all there is to it,” Draco said curtly, now making his way to the bathroom with a bundle of clothing in his arms.

Harry shook his head as he took out a spare piece of parchment and a battered quill. He scrawled a quick reply to Ron telling him that Tuesday would be fine, plucked Pigwidgeon out of Hedwig's food bowl, and sent him on his way with the letter strapped to his leg.

He then turned and stepped out into the hallway and headed down the staircase to breakfast, still perplexed over Draco's unblemished complexion. He knew Draco was hiding something. Maybe he discovered some way to prevent the Ministry of Magic from detecting his spells (because Harry was certain that he used some sort of healing spell, what else could it be?). He’d find out what it was eventually.

He realized once he hit the bottom step that he had forgotten to bring up the Weasley's invitation to Draco. I’ll talk to him about it later, Harry decided. He must be sick of living with the Muggles by now, maybe he’d actually be happy to be moving to a wizarding house. But he had to admit himself that this idea wasn’t very likely.

Breakfast that morning was a quiet affair. His aunt and uncle kept to themselves (with his uncle casting the occasional glace his direction, his face saying quite plainly that he was clearly expecting Harry to turn into a raging lunatic again) and Dudley of course was too busy eating and staring at one of his game shows on a television propped up in front of him on the kitchen table to say much of anything.

Harry ate his toast quickly, taking care of the television set at his elbow. He stood up when he was finished and asked, "What am I to do today?" for on Fridays his chores usually differed.

"What? Oh, nothing for you today," Uncle Vernon said, his voice muffled since he was hiding his face behind his newspaper.

"Nothing?" Harry repeated, not believing his luck.

"Are you deaf?" his uncle snapped. Then he seemed to regret that statement for he coughed loudly and rustled the paper. He said now in a much calmer voice, "I mean, it looked like yesterday was too much for you. Don't want you going into a... a fit again... no, no, we most certainly do not want that," he heaved a hearty laugh that sounded quite nervous. "That's what I meant to say."

"Oh," Harry said. "Right."

Uncle Vernon, looking relieved that Harry was not going to go into a spasm once more, said, "So, you have today free. To rest, and relax, you know. You can even have a go on Dudder's computer-"

"What?" Dudley's head snapped up from the television. "What did you tell that - that freak?"

"Quiet, Dudley," said Uncle Vernon sternly.

"I think I'll just go outside," said Harry quickly, and left the room without another word. He didn't want Dudley to cause Uncle Vernon to rethink his decision on not giving Harry any work that day. Harry knew the only reason he was getting off so easy was because Uncle Vernon was now afraid of his mental stability... or lack thereof. But what he didn't know was how long Uncle Vernon would continue to think this, so he wanted to take full advantage of the situation by spending some quality alone time, and outdoors seemed like a good place to do it.. He had no interest in blowing up space aliens on the computer and didn't want to start a fight with Dudley about it either.

He walked outside, slamming the door behind him, feeling a refreshing breeze float across his flesh. The weather wasn't nearly as hot as it was the yesterday. It was a rather cool day for summertime, and Harry wanted to enjoy it.

He walked to the far end of the yard where a large and hulking tree was located. He made his way under the foliage (the shadow further adding to the decreased temperature) and settled himself comfortably on the ground, his back leaning against the tree bark. He shut his eyes and exhaled loudly. After nearly a solid week of tension and general unpleasantness, he would finally get some time to relax.

No sooner had he thought that, however, when a crunch of grass shoes alerted him to a presence drawing near. His heart sinking, Harry opened his eyes and saw Draco approaching.

“Why are you always following me?” he asked the other boy wearily.

“I don‘t always follow you,” responded Draco evenly, now standing over him.

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“I saw you come out here from the window,” Draco shrugged. “It was either join you outside or spend yet another day staring at a blank wall.”

Harry let his head fall back against the tree with a quiet thump and sighed again, this time out of annoyance. “You should have chosen the wall.”

Draco sank down onto the grass near him and said, “But then you wouldn’t be able to bask in my wonderful company.”

“I would have found a way to survive,” Harry said dryly.

“Ah,” Draco said as a matter of factly. “That’s what a lot of people think. Then they attempt doing just that and instead ended up spontaneously combusting from Draco Malfoy withdrawl-" Harry snorted at this "-And we wouldn‘t want that happening to the Great Harry Potter, remember?”

“We’ve been over this,” Harry said, irritated. “I’m not great.”

“You know that, and I know that, but the rest of this poor, misguided world still remains under that delusion,” said Draco cheerfully.

Harry was surprised to find a smile twitching at his face.

Draco looked up and stared Harry straight in the eye, his expression suddenly thoughtful. “Odd, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“That right now we’re having an amiable conversation and it was only yesterday that we were fighting like a couple of kids.”

Harry let a wry smile creep across his face. “I suppose so.”

Draco nodded. “You nearly killed me, you know.”

Harry’s smile left his face as quickly as it had come. “I know.”

"I imagine it was something you've been wanting to do for a long time."

Harry lifted one shoulder uneasily. "I guess."

Draco gave him a curious look. “How did you feel?”

“How did I - what?”

“How did you feel?” Draco repeated in a serious tone. “When you had your hands wrapped around my throat?”

“Why do you want to know?” Harry asked warily. “A bit morbid, isn’t it?”

“Well yes, I suppose. But I'm curious... and I think I have a right to know what you were feeling when you were trying to kill me. And the reasoning behind it."

Harry found himself agreeing.. He figured he at least owed the other boy that much.

He was silent for a long moment, thinking about it, and idly twirling a blade of grass around his finger.

“It felt good,” Harry said eventually, not meeting Draco’s eyes. “I was really angry. I wanted to hurt you. Badly.”

“That’s all?” Draco asked impatiently. “Nothing more?”

“No, there was more,” Harry continued. He was gaining steam now, reliving yesterday’s memories and emotions... of the rush he got when he had Draco so very close to death. “I wanted to do more than hurt you. I... I wanted to feel you struggle beneath me, to hear you gasp for a breath you knew you couldn’t find. I wanted to feel your windpipe crush beneath my fingers and to feel that inevitable sense of satisfaction as you heaved your last breath, as you stared into my eyes knowing that I was the one who prevailed at the end. That‘s... that's what I felt. Happy now?” When he finished, Harry’s voice was nothing more than an intense whisper.

He looked up at last and saw that Draco was looking rather astonished. “I never would’ve thought...” he said slowly, mostly to himself. “I mean, I had a suspicion... that's why I asked you... but I never thought it would be true...”

“What? What is it?”

“Those kinds of feelings indicate the makings of a dark wizard, you didn’t know that?”

Harry wordlessly shook his heard.

“Well I should think that it would be obvious. When a powerful wizard, usually a dark one, starts having those kinds of thoughts and gets that gleam in their eye, everyone around him knows it’s time to run, because they’ve got a bad curse heading their way. Maybe even an Unforgivable. Of course, no one has to worry about you casting an Unforgivable Curse... no, you’re much too innocent for that, of course...”

“I‘m not,” Harry said quietly, the nausea he felt the day before returning.

Draco looked confused. “You‘re not?”

“I’ve cast an Unforgivable,” Harry admitted, even more quietly.

Draco, for once in his life, looked taken aback. “You... you have? Potter, I think I’ve been underestimating you all these years. You actually cast an Unforgivable Curse? Which one?” he asked, now sounding interested.

“Cruciatus,” said Harry tonelessly.

Draco looked even more surprised at this revelation. "But you can’t just fire that bugger off whenever you feel like it. It takes practice. It couldn’t have worked properly.”

“It didn’t,” Harry said bitterly. He pictured Bellatrix Lestrange’s face in his mind and felt some of that raw anger he was feeling back in June return. “I didn’t really know what I was doing. I just wanted to hurt her.”

Draco sighed and said quietly, “For it to work, you can’t just be angry, you can’t just want to hurt someone. You can’t simply wave a wand and say the incantation and make things go your way all of a sudden. No, in order to cast a spell like that, you have to want to cause that person intense, unyielding agony... to soak in the knowledge that it is you who is causing the victim’s suffering, and to revel in that pleasure.... Much like how you felt when you and I were fighting. But even more so. The anger, the hatred, it completely consumes you.”

Harry was silent.

“Who did you cast it on anyway?”

“A Death Eater. She...” Harry hesitated. “She took something very important from me. I wanted to make her pay. I still do.”

“You still do?” Draco echoed.

Harry nodded. Then he added almost inaudibly, “You know it, don’t you, Malfoy. The way you described it, the look on your face... you know how to perform that curse.”

It was not a question, and Draco did not deny it.

“Mother taught me,” he said. “Said she wanted me to know how to defend myself and that learning it might be the only way. She didn't... she didn't have time to teach me the other two, though. Only Cruciatus.”

There was only the briefest hesitation on Harry’s part. “Show it to me.”

Draco’s eyes went wide. “Show you?”

“I told you that I still wanted to hurt the Death Eater,” Harry said.

“But you actually want to learn the Dark Arts in order to do so? Potter, I don't think you understand what you're saying here. There's no going back once you've star-"

“When I had you in that death grip yesterday,” said Harry interrupted steadily, “I felt like I was on a high. It was an amazing feeling, it made me forget everything, and I felt that I was, for once, the one in control. I let everything go, and only felt the adrenaline. I want to feel that again. Show me.”

There was a brief pause, then Draco nodded. “All right.”

***

Draco informed him that they had to start small in the beginning, so they spent the next few moments gathering various bug and insects off the ground. They built a miniature enclosure with twigs and leaves, and deposited the bugs in there.

"Right," Draco said as he dropped a wiggling spider into the little area. He fell back to sit in front of it on the ground, next to Harry. He pulled out his wand and waved it in a long circular motion around Harry and himself. "Protactus," he muttered.

At once, Harry felt a warm wind sweep up and over his back, rustling his hair and whistling in his ear. It continued around the ground, making the blades of grass sway delicately. Then, as quickly as it had come, it had gone.

"What did you do?" Harry asked him.

"Protection Charm," Draco responded, grinning. "Created a sort of bubble around us to stop anybody detecting magic, and from anyone hearing what's happening inside. Especially people from the Ministry."

"They never taught us that in school-"

"Don't be thick, they'd obviously never teach us something like this at Hogwarts. It's highly frowned upon. Father showed me it months ago,” he said arrogantly.

"I knew you must've been doing something like it, though," Harry told him. "Like when you did that healing spell this morning."

Draco's grin faltered. "I told you I didn't do a spell. I heal quickly. Must we address this now?"

"No," said Harry quickly, moving forward and crossing his legs. "Enough small talk."

"Take out your wand then," Draco instructed.

Harry frowned. "I think it's inside the house in my trunk."

Draco made a noise in the back of his throat. "So you practically beg me to teach you an illegal curse, only to realize seconds later that you've left your wand inside your house?"

"I don't normally carry it with me anymore," Harry said defensively. "Because of my aunt and uncle. And Dudley screams like a girl anytime he sees it."

"Well I've already cast the Protection Charm. If you step out of it's range you'll break it, and I don't want to have to cast it again... it takes a lot out of you." Harry peered closer at the other boy, and indeed saw that there was a light sheen of sweat covering his forehead. "Here," Draco continued, thrusting his own wand at the Gryffindor. "Use my wand for now, then. Just don't make a habit out of it," he grumbled.

"I don't plan on it," Harry said coolly, but reached out to take Draco's wand. He took hold of it carefully, studying it. It was a bit shorter than his own, and made with heavier wood. It felt foreign when he gripped it. He twirled it around his fingers once, trying to get used to the feel of it.

"If you're quite ready..." the other boy drawled, watching him disdainfully.

Harry immediately held the wand still.

"Right then," Draco sniffed. He reached into the small enclosure and withdrew a medium-sized beetle. He set it down on the ground in front of Harry. "We'll start with this. If it's too big, we'll move to something smaller, like an ant."

"I'll be able to do it," Harry said, feeling insulted.

Draco glanced at him sceptically.

Harry looked away from Draco and turned his attention to the beetle crawling around in front of him. Harry frowned and raised the wand slightly so that it was pointing directly at the green coloured insect. "Crucio," he whispered.

A wisp of a greyish, cloudy air curled out of the thin piece of wood in his hand, with a sound something like a whisper, but that was all that happened. It dissipated into the air, and the beetle seemed unaffected. It continued merrily scampering back and forth on the ground in front of Harry.

Draco shook his head. "See? It's more difficult than it looks."

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "You're the teacher. So teach."

"Let's try something." Draco said. "Cast a charm on it."

"A charm?"

"Yes. Just point the wand at it, and say the incantation, mata."

"What'll that do?"

"Just a little sedation charm," Draco said offhandedly. "It'll keep the beetle still while I think of something to help you learn this."

Harry frowned. Draco's tone of voice was just a little too innocent... but what harm could there be in a simple sedation charm?

Harry lifted the wand and said, "Mata."

A change instantly came over the beetle. It seemed to almost shudder, then laid still. Harry looked toward Draco to see what to do next, only to find with some surprise that the other boy had backed a couple feet away. "What are you - ARGH!!"

The once dormant beetle very suddenly leapt onto Harry's bare left arm, and was chewing on his flesh... and it had grown fangs. Very, very sharp fangs.

Harry yelped and scooted backwards, flailing his arm wildly, trying to throw the beetle off. But the insect just attached it's legs to Harry's arm and held on tightly.

"Get off you insane bug!" Harry said wildly.

The beetle, almost as if it had heard Harry's cry, looked up and hissed at him. It then sunk his sharp teeth into Harry's skin once more, this time drawing blood.

"Get OFF!" Harry said angrily.

For fangs so tiny, they were hurting his arm more than he ever thought possible. He dropped the wand and tried to pry the fierce insect off of his arm, but it only held on more firmly. He quickly gave up on that course of action and when he pulled away, his fingers were wet and slippery. His entire left arm felt numb now, and it was bleeding profusely. Blood ran down his forearm and dripped onto the grass, staining it red.

"Malfoy!" he yelled furiously.

The arm fell limp to his side, useless, and the pain was near unbearable now. It was hurting almost as bad as his scar the previous day.

"Teach it a lesson, Potter!" He heard Draco's voice call out casually. "It's hurting you. Now hurt it back."

Harry felt around frantically in the grass for the dropped wand. "Where is it?" he muttered through clenched teeth. "Where - ow, bloody bastard of an insect, get off, you - ah!" he had found the wand. He grasped it triumphantly with his good hand. It slipped a bit in his blood soaked fingers, but he finally managed to raise it and shout, "Crucio!"

Something pure white blasted out of the end of the wand, and instantly smothered it's target. The beetle shivered, finally let go of it's hold on Harry's arm, and curled itself into a small ball. Harry kept the wand trained on it, now feeling power... so much power running through him... channelling it through the wand, into the small creature before him. The shivering ball rolled away and landed into the blood tainted grass with a soft plop.

This was it. This was it at last. Harry was on that high again... he felt raw rage, and it felt good. All the pain he had been experiencing was now blocked from his mind. He was in control again... in control of everything. No one could stop him, no one could bring him down from this rush, this energy. It was addicting, and right now Harry understood why people chose this path. It could easily become a need, an obsession, to have such command over another living being.

Harry wanted more.

He stood up, his heart racing faster than when he was flying on his broomstick, faster than when he was just inches away from catching the Snitch and securing another Quidditch victory... faster than it ever had before.

He loomed over the shuddering beetle. "Crucio!" he bellowed.

The beetle gave one last, violent shiver, then all life left it and it collapsed motionless on the ground.

That wasn't enough.

More, Harry thought recklessly. More.

He turned his wand on the other bugs, insects, and spiders in the makeshift enclosure.

"CRUCIO!"

The dozens of captives in the closed area abruptly spasmed in pain and suffering. Several immediately keeled over, others suffered a more prolonged and torturous death. Harry felt himself laughing dizzily. Oh why hasn't he ever tried this before? He had missed out on it all, on all these amazing feeling for years. His laughter turned cruel as he watched the remaining insects collapse.

It was exhilarating. Harry felt like he was soaring.

A blue jay flew in front of him and landed one of the lower branches of the tree, tweeting as she looked curiously down at the spectacle before her.

Harry wrench his eyes away from the dead bugs. A bird, eh? Well, why not? He could do it. Right now, he could do anything.

He trained his wand on the blue jay and uttered that venomous word, “Crucio.”

He didn’t even have to shout it this time.

The bird squacked loudly and fell from the branch, landing on the ground with a sickening thud. It twitched violently, letting out small, horrifyingly enjoyable chirps of pain with every movement.

Harry watched, captivated by this sensation. If it was even possible, the power inside him felt like it was growing with every jerk of pain, with every twitter of suffering he heard.

It was overwhelming... in fact, it felt as if it was beginning to overtake him. There was a roaring in his head and he felt abnormally woozy. He suddenly realised that a hand was pulling frantically on his arm, probably for a number of seconds now. "Potter! Potter!" an unidentifiable voice shouted in his ears.

Oh... Harry thought dimly, just before he slipped into unconsciousness. Too much...

***

When Harry stirred he was once again laying on his bed. All light had vanished from the room, and he felt strangely drained.

"You got blood on my wand, you know," a quiet voice came from his bedside. Harry craned his neck and saw that Draco had pulled up the desk chair in order to sit alongside the bed. He was bent over, studying his wand, hair falling in his face. "Took an hour to get it all off," Draco continued.

"Oh," Harry said. He reached up, pressing a hand to his head.

"Headache?" Draco asked, seeing the movement out of the corner of his eye.

Harry nodded, then winced as the motion caused a fresh wave of pain to flow through him.

"That spell...” Harry started, “the one you said was only to sedate that beetle - what was it really?"

"Aggression Charm,” Draco said.

“You tricked me,” Harry accused.

Draco shrugged easily. “You wouldn’t have cast it if I had told you what it really was. I needed to get you angry, to make you feel pain.”

“Well it worked.” Harry paused. “The bugs, I killed them all. And that bird...”

“They’re small. Can only handle so much.”

Harry leaned his head back. He felt incredibly tired... and more worn out than he could ever remember. Just before he closed his eyes, he saw that Draco had turned to look directly at him at last.

“I didn’t expect things to progress that far, though. Especially not for a beginner like you,” Draco said.

The other boy’s voice seemed to drift away as Harry felt himself falling back asleep.

“You must have a natural talent for it - for spells like that - to have gone so far in so short an amount of time,” Draco continued in a funny tone, but the sound was ebbing away.

The last thing Harry remembered before surrendering to nothingness was a cool hand touching his forehead, and a warm, therapeutic feeling of contentment sweeping through him. He was so far out of it, though, that it was entirely possible he had only imagined it.