Apology For the Devil

Chapter Five--ASPS

Humans always do the most intelligent thing after every stupid alternative has failed. [R. Buckminster Fuller]

Men are moved by two levers only: fear and self interest.

[Napoleon B.]

###

'Come on, Lucius!' Cassidy cajoled. 'We're going to miss out on the dunking!'

It was tradition that the sixth years be thrown in the lake by the graduating seventh years as an 'initiation' into their final year. Lucius smiled, but knew that he had to stay inside to pack. Night time excursions to practice the Dark Arts did have their downsides--including having less time for packing.

'Sorry, Cassidy,' he said. 'I really have to pack my trunk.'

'Suit yourself.' Cassidy shrugged, and he and the other boys left.

Goyle took a look back at Lucius as if he was thinking about staying. But he seemed to come to the conclusion that leaving was alright. Obviously it's alright, Lucius sighed.

As Lucius was packing his things, a knock came at his dormitory door. He opened it, and found Lance standing outside.

'Lucius,' he said smoothly, 'could we talk?'

Lucius checked again that his dormitory was empty and invited Lance in. Lance thanked him, and stepped inside. He turned to the mirror-glass that Lucius had hung on the wall at the beginning of the year.

'That's nice,' he said. 'Who has the other end?'

'My parents,' Lucius said. He didn't want to sound dependent on his parents, but neither did he want to sound ashamed.

'Mmm,' Lance said, noncommittally. 'Lucius, I've come to ask you a question, and you are free to give me any answer you choose and it will not leave this room.'

Lucius' eyebrows went up a little. It was second nature now to assume that everything was 'on the record.' Whatever Lance had to say, it was serious. The older boy continued.

'Have you ever heard of the Associated Student Protectors of Slytherin?' he asked.

Lucius shook his head. He'd heard vague mentions, but certainly had no idea what the group was about. Lance nodded, as if he had expected as much.

'The ASPS provide the internal structure of Slytherin house. To our knowledge, other houses are less formal, and more free-for-all, but we find that our way reduces internal tensions as much as possible,' he smiled slightly, 'which is probably more important in our house than in, say, Ravenclaw.'

Lucius smirked. The Ravenclaws were likely too busy discussing ideas to be involved in power struggles.

'The ASPS council,' Lance continued, 'is made up of two students from each year third and above, and one second year. Second years have little to no power, but it means that one of the future members has a year of experience by their third year.' Lucius nodded, but didn't dare to anticipate where this was going.

'As you may have guessed,' Lance went on, 'I am one of the seventh year members this year. I've been on the council since I was a second year. Each year, the two seventh years choose the rising second and third years that will be added to the council. We would like to offer you a place as next year's second year member.'

Lucius was awestruck. He tried not to let it show, but it clearly did. He had been singled out from all of his classmates as the one who could best serve in solving internal affairs.

'That sounds wonderful,' Lucius began. 'I--'

Lance cut him off. 'Think about this before you commit,' he cautioned. 'There is a lot of responsibility and time that goes in to this. Meetings are held late at night, and you will have less time to do schoolwork. You may have to settle cases against your friends. There are responsibilities associated with any position of power, and that includes this one. Do you still want to accept?'

Lucius knew that he should think through all that Lance was listing, but he had known what his answer would be from the moment Lance had introduced the concept of the ASPS. For Lance's sake, and the sake of appearances, he paused in pretend contemplation.

'I do,' he said finally. Lance nodded, clearly not surprised. He pulled out his wand, flicked it, and a piece of parchment and a quill appeared.

'This is to be signed by both of us, illustrating to anyone with doubts next year that you and I have both agreed to your position on the council.' He handed the quill to Lucius. 'Sign anywhere on the page,' he instructed.

Lucius took the quill in remarkably steady hands, and placed the pen on the paper. After drawing the first stroke of the 'L,' he drew his hand back abruptly.

'What the--' he stopped himself.

Lance looked at him and raised one eyebrow. Lucius looked down at his hand, the back of which was bleeding in a shape similar to the one he'd just drawn on the page. Biting his lip, he looked back at his unfinished signature, and put the quill to parchment again. Writing as quickly as he could, he signed his full name: Lucius Valerian Ignatius Illyrius Malfoy. A part of him sorely wished that his parents had settled on a shorter name, but he knew that would pass as the skin healed. Lance's lip curled in malicious amusement, and he dashed off his own signature quickly. Lucius saw the quill cut into Lance's hand as well. The older boy didn't even flinch.

'Give me your hand,' Lance instructed, and Lucius complied. Lance drew a knife, and slit Lucius' palm along its lifeline, letting several drops of blood drip onto the parchment where they were absorbed.

Lance released his hand and nodded slowly. 'It is done,' he said, and left the room with parchment in hand.

Left alone, and slightly dazed, Lucius stared at his hand. He hated blood. His own blood, especially, but blood in general made him feel ill. He shuddered, and went back to packing.

Lucius quickly realized that any packing would have to be done left-handed if he wanted to avoid getting blood all over his things, at least until the cut stopped bleeding. After putting a few things in his trunk in this manner, he decided that it made a lot more sense to do something about his hand before packing.

He turned multiple possibilities over in his head, but dismissed them one by one. He didn't have first aid supplies, didn't know a good enough cleaning spell to get the blood out of any fabric he used as a bandage, and there was no way he was going to ask for help. Lucius started thinking through all of the spells he knew, trying to find one that would help even marginally. He didn't have any luck. The one that came closest to being helpful was a nasty spell he'd learned from his father that would freeze the blood in a person's veins. It was useful in a duel if one needed to distract the opponent, but it was more commonly used in medieval torture situations. Lucius had no desire to torture himself to heal a small cut. A small cut that was rapidly threatening to drip blood onto his bedspread.

What he needed, he concluded, was another spell that would help. With sudden inspiration, he pulled out his hide-away and found the button that showed the plus sign. That was universal for first aid, right? He hoped his father had included a book with first aid charms--or better yet, first aid supplies.

He pushed it, and the box opened to reveal another shrunken book. Lucius enlarged it and grinned when he discovered that it was a book of healing spells. Brilliant. With his good left hand, he pawed through the pages trying to find something that would fix the problem. He came across a general purpose heal-all spell that looked as if it would do nicely.

Lucius' father had given him very specific instructions on how he was to learn new spells: 'don't do so without a clear understanding of the theory behind the spell, and never test a new spell on yourself.'

Deciding that this was an emergency that superseded those instructions, Lucius practiced the wand motion a few times without the incantation, and then the incantation without the wand. After a few minutes, he felt confident enough to try the spell.

That was when he found a problem--the cut was on his wand hand. If he held his wand with it, he couldn't aim properly at the cut. But if he held it with his other hand, the spell would be more difficult.

He thought briefly about using a mirror to reflect a spell cast by his wand hand, but quickly dismissed it, knowing he couldn't aim that precisely. As the blood began to drip again, he made a panicked decision.

Picking up his wand in his left hand, he cast the spell left-handed, aiming as best he could at his cut.

'Sanocunctus.'

The blood stopped flowing, the formerly sliced flesh healed, and Lucius relaxed, feeling proud of himself.

That lasted for about ten seconds. Then his other hand started to bleed. Badly. 'Bloody hell!' he cursed. Looking back at the book, he read the not-so-fine print underneath the instructions...another one of his father's rules that Lucius had disregarded in his haste.

Sanocunctus was used to heal a person even at the brink of death, but at the cost of transferring the injuries to the caster. It shouldn't have surprised Lucius--spells that could have dramatic effects over a range of scenarios almost inevitably came at a price.

Apparently, in this case, the wand wielding left-hand had taken the injury from the other.

On the positive side, he now had his right hand available to repair the damage in another way. On the negative side, he'd clearly botched the spell to some degree, and the injury had worsened substantially.

Instead of a mild slash across the palm, his left arm had blood flowing freely from a gash that began on the back of his left hand, continued down the back of his wrist, and curled under to the tender flesh of his forearm.

Thoroughly frustrated now, and in quite a bit of pain, Lucius snapped the book shut, and Leviosa-ed the regular mirror off the wall.

'What do you think you're doing?' the mirror cried. 'Put me back! You can't just--'

The mirror stopped there, thanks to a snarled 'Silencio' from Lucius. He put the silently-raging mirror on the floor and placed his bleeding left hand on top of it, allowing the plate to catch the blood. He knew he couldn't leave it there indefinitely; for one thing he'd eventually lose enough blood that he'd pass out. The healing spell had stopped his right hand from bleeding, but the result had nearly slit his left wrist open.

His next instinct was to burst into tears, but a timely adrenaline rush helped him to hold them off. He tried to think.

Thinking was made substantially more difficult by the small but persistent voice in his head that began berating him for his stupidity to that point. It went through all of the options that he should have considered ten minutes ago, and Lucius found it most unhelpful. Come on, Lucius, he chided himself, think about now instead of then. He took a calming breath, which contributed to his light-headedness, and thought about what to do next.

If he tried to walk to the hospital wing, he'd likely pass out on the way there. So that was not an option. He could try the healing spell again, but even with his right hand, he would just translate the injuries back to that arm, which wouldn't really solve the problem at all. Any older students who might have helped him--he was more than willing to pay whatever price they would have asked--were at the lake.

Lucius felt that the next logical course of action was to frantically pound on random hide-away buttons, hoping that something useful would come of it. He found a number of things that would normally have interested him greatly, but he didn't notice them beyond a passing glance.

He stopped with a sigh, dropped the box, and took a better look at the assorted items that had fallen out. His father's note lay on the ground by his foot. 'Stay safe' indeed.

Lucius scanned the rest of the note half-heartedly until a few phrases stuck out at him.

'... know that Maribel O'Connell... friend of the family...if you cannot find aid...she will help you...'

Professor O'Connell. That was it. Her office was much closer than the hospital wing, and Lucius thought he might be able to reach her. He thought briefly of going to Slughorn, whose office was the closest to the common room by far, but rejected it--he didn't need to let Slughorn see what an idiot he'd been.

So O'Connell it was. But how to get to her office without losing blood as he went? Lucius was already feeling light-headed, and he really didn't fancy the thought of fainting on the way there. His mind went back to the spell he'd first thought of -- the one designed to freeze the blood in someone's veins. If he could just remember how that worked...could it be done temporarily without damage? Or would he lose the use of his left arm completely? He'd turn a quill into a needle and sew the gash shut before he'd lose the arm.

He pointed his wand at his small toe, and instantly felt it freeze up. Pressure built in the veins surrounding it as the blood tried to get through the frozen section. It hurt like hell, and Lucius realized why it was used in the torture of prisoners. But if it would get him to Professor O'Connell... He unfroze his toe, and it felt perfectly fine. With a gulp and a grimace, he pointed his wand at his left arm, and incanted the spell.

'Congelo.'

His hand and forearm seized up, and he felt an uncomfortable pressure building in his upper arm. He'd done it at a lower strength, hoping it would allow some blood through, and apparently he'd succeeded. He slipped his shoe back on, and hurried to the Arithmancy office.

As he left the common room, he realized that there was a very real chance that Professor O'Connell wouldn't be in her office. He mentally cursed, knowing he should have thought of that a bit sooner, but he didn't really have a choice at that point. He continued on.

When he reached O'Connell's office, he pounded frantically on the door. It opened far too slowly for his taste, and revealed a skeletal woman with dark black hair up in a bun.

'What do--' but she broke off in alarm when she saw the state of his arm--which was bleeding surprisingly little considering the size of the wound.

She looked up and down the corridor. One of her long-fingered hands grabbed his uninjured wrist. 'In,' she said abruptly, and pulled him through the office door.

Once he was inside, she sat him down in a chair.

'What on earth have you done, Lucius? Were you trying to kill yourself?' Her face darkened. 'Or did somebody else--'

'No,' Lucius said quickly through gritted teeth. 'No, it was an accident. I...could you please heal it? It's very uncomfortable.'

'Of course. Episkey.' The gash closed slightly but was far from healed. Professor O'Connell looked perplexed. 'Why isn't it...' she muttered, examining his arm.

'Oh! Erm...Finite,' he cast, and the blood began flowing freely, leaving a tingly burning sensation behind. 'Try again?' he asked.

She did, and this time it healed completely.

'And what was that, Mister Malfoy?' she asked with an eyebrow raised disapprovingly.

'It was...I cut myself while I was packing,' he responded lamely.

'I'm sure. Do you want to explain why it wasn't bleeding?'

'It's a spell I learned from...from someone, and I thought it would help because it had been bleeding for a little while before I remembered that my father and you knew each other, so--'

'So you intentionally cast a Dark spell on yourself?'

It was a Dark spell?

'I didn't...' it seemed rather obvious now that he considered it. 'I didn't, erm, know it was Dark.'

She sighed wearily. 'Lucius, did you even think of the other ways you could have fixed this?'

'I did,' he said soberly, 'but I don't know any first aid spells, I didn't want to get my things bloody, and your office was closer than the hospital wing. Also there was no one around to help.'

'Did you think about wrapping it up and asking someone to clean up the mess later?'

No.

'And even if your things couldn't be cleaned, wouldn't your father rather have you alive and well than a trunk full of clean linen?'

Yes.

'Or you could have called for a house-elf and had it fetch someone.'

Right.

'Lucius?'

'I... yes. I should have.' He hated admitting he'd been wrong. 'But this worked just fine!'

'And if I hadn't been here? Then what? Lucius, you're going to get yourself killed if you don't start taking into consideration...'

She kept talking. He flexed his arm to make sure it was fully healed. It was, which was quite a relief.

'...And I want you to march to the hospital wing right now for a Blood Replenishing potion, do you understand?'

'Yes, Professor.'

'Good. Now off with you.'

'Thank you for healing my arm.'

She shook her head. 'I was happy to. But in the future, be smarter about it, please.'

'Yes, Professor.'

Lucius turned back towards his common room with no thought at all about going to the hospital wing. He rounded a corner only to just miss running directly into the headmaster.

'I'm sorry, sir,' he panted. 'I just needed to--'

'Of course, Mr. Malfoy. You'd better hurry,' Professor Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye. 'I hear you're missing all the fun down at the lake.'

Lucius blinked once incredulously. Anyone but Dumbledore would have commented first on Lucius' left sleeve, which still had a good quantity of dried blood stuck to it. O'Connell hadn't seen fit to do a cleaning charm, and Lucius hadn't thought of it either. They'd had rather more pressing matters to deal with.

But a blood-caked sleeve was generally seen by people as more important than dunking older classmates in a lake.

Lucius was pretty sure about that.

Apparently Dumbledore didn't fit that mould.

Lucius really didn't trust the man; he was far too benign looking. Lucius knew Dumbledore's history perfectly well, and he was no placid grandfather figure. He was a warrior. A warrior, Lucius amended, who wants me to go outside and bond with my classmates. Whatever.

'Yes, sir,' he responded. 'I was on my way out.'

'Excellent!' Dumbledore beamed. 'Especially as the weather today is so pleasant.'

The weather?

'Yes, sir.'

'Go along then Mr. Malfoy,' he smiled. 'And do enjoy yourself.'

Lucius went. Barmy old man.

Of course, by the time he reached the lake, the festivities were over, but it was a fun feeling to see almost his entire house in one place. He smiled with the throng of Slytherins that headed towards the common room. It had been a good year.

###

When Lucius reached home for the summer, his father made it clear that their lessons would continue as they had before. And that, in Lucius' opinion, was going to pose a problem.

He entered his father's study and, sure enough, they fell into their standard routine: theory of a spell, history and uses of it, and, finally, practical experience. Things were all well and good until the practical.

'Erm...Father?'

'Yes? Do you need me to go over the incantation again?'

'No, I know it. I just don't think I should be using the spell.'

'Lucius, it's no more difficult or harmful than the spells you've been doing since you were ten. Just give it a try.'

Lucius took a deep breath, wondering how this could be one of his father's tests when the consequences were so dire. Perhaps it wasn't a test at all.

'I'm not supposed to do magic outside of school.' There. Blunt and inelegant, but it was better than not saying anything

Abraxas grew quiet--the dangerous type of quiet that Lucius could now recognize as separate from the others. Nothing good ever came of this type of silence.

'Did you think that I was unaware of this, Lucius?' he began frostily. 'That I don't know the Ministry laws better than a twelve-year old boy?' He spat the last word, and Lucius cringed. 'Do you take me for a fool, Lucius?'

'No, Father, I thought that...I just meant that maybe you'd forgotten.' He kept his voice level because, after all, if his father had forgotten there would have been hell to pay. At least he told himself that. He almost believed it.

'So you believe that it is commonplace for me to 'forget' things that pertain to my family's well-being, is that a more accurate assessment of your views?'

'No, I--'

'Perhaps you thought me too inept to circumvent the Ministry's feeble attempts to enforce such an impossible edict? Or did you think that my loyalty to the Ministry's arbitrary and nonsensical laws would prevent me from teaching you?'

His voice had taken on the icy, clipped tone that Lucius had come to associate with an Abraxas who was maintaining composure through sheer willpower. He was also using large words, which was never a good sign. His face remained completely expressionless.

'Which was it, Lucius? Am I ignorant? Lax? Inept?'

'None of those, Father, I--'

He waited to be cut off, but his father stared at him instead, daring him to finish the sentence. Lucius took a deep breath before doing so. 'I wanted to be certain because the consequences would be so bad. I'm sorry that I asked, and I will try to...I will trust you more in the future.'

Abraxas looked neutrally at his son. Lucius maintained a similarly neutral, if slightly more frightened, look. They held the eye contact for a long moment before Abraxas spoke.

'So you did learn something last year.'

He poured himself some apple brandy and offered a sip to Lucius, who declined. Brandy was so foul. After a few sips and a few deep breaths, Abraxas had calmed somewhat. He was still tense, but no longer had the look of a lit firecracker.

'Forget the spell for now, Lucius. Sit.' When they were seated opposite each other, Abraxas began a different type of lecture.

'Lucius...there are things you need to learn about the Ministry. While it is not prudent to exhibit such views, it is in our best interest to at least discuss them in private.' He swirled the brandy pensively before continuing.

'The Ministry, like any government, is ruled by the masses. The masses, in turn, are primarily motivated by fear and the promise of short-term gain. They are also easily swayed by partial truths and lies if those are presented persuasively.'

'But why don't people think for themselves instead of listening to the persuasive people?' Lucius interrupted in confusion. Abraxas curled his lip.

'Because it's so much easier to follow than to think.'

'But if following means they're believing lies and doing things that are bad for the people, then...isn't it better to do what's good instead of what's easy?'

'Better? Yes.' He sighed resignedly. 'I inadvertently left out one crucial motivator of the masses: society is essentially lazy. Change doesn't come unless there is a desperate need for it, or unless a demagogue can rally enough support that change cannot be avoided. Otherwise, people will let things stand as they are.'

'So why aren't there more demigods?'

'Demagogues, Lucius. And it's because there are few people who are strong enough, passionate enough, and charismatic enough to lead the kind of effort it takes to force society to move from its paralysis.'

'But that's...Father, are people really that stupid?' Lucius was worried that the answer would be yes.

'Oh, it isn't stupidity. It's more accurate to say that people are apathetic. Even the most intelligent person can remain politically uninspired.'

Lucius was beginning to understand how this worked, and he was not pleased by it at all.

'So they're afraid of what a first year will do if he can use his wand outside of school? That's ridiculous! And what makes things so different when you turn seventeen? Why is that the line?' His lips thinned as his brow furrowed in anger. 'It's ridiculous! Why don't people see how stupid it is?'

Abraxas chuckled slightly. 'You are right, of course. It is ridiculous. But how do you expect it to change? Children have little say in the running of governments, and it isn't a crisis of any sort. What will make people want to change things?'

'Because it's right,' Lucius said stubbornly.

'Be that as it may, it will not happen.'

Lucius sighed dejectedly. The more he learned about the world, the more convinced he was that he was one of the few sane people in it.

'So what do people like us do, Father? People who know that the laws are stupid. Why should we have to follow the rules set up by stupid--erm...apathetical people?'

'Apathetic, Lucius. And to answer your question, we have a choice as to how we are to proceed. We can follow the rules, or we can ignore them.'

'But we can't really ignore them. The Ministry'd find out.'

'Lucius, how long have I been teaching you? Five years? Surely you don't think that everything I've taught you is legal.'

Lucius thought about that. It hadn't really occurred to him to think about it before.

'I've never really--'

'Thought about it. I know," Abraxas continued. "And doesn't that make you as apathetic and uninformed as anyone else?'

'It's different!' Lucius' cheeks flushed. 'I trust you. You're my father, not some...government, or demi--demagogue.'

'That's a fair point, but many people do trust the government, and the Daily Prophet, and whatever they hear from an official. What I'm trying to get across to you is the importance of thinking for yourself. Whatever you are told, you must decide whether you believe it.'

Lucius thought about that. 'Even if you tell me?'

Abraxas nodded, waiting for his son to put the pieces together.

'So I can decide - if I want - that everything you just said isn't true?'

'If you like, yes.'

'But if I don't believe you, then I don't believe the part about thinking for myself, and I have to believe you about--oh.' His head was spinning at the inherent paradox.

'It is harder, isn't it?' His father sounded mildly amused.

'But you said you'd never lie to me!' Lucius accused.

'I did say that. But you may choose whether or not you believe me.'

'I do!' Lucius loyally replied. 'I do believe that. And if you wouldn't lie to me, I guess I believe the rest of it too.'

'Another day we'll discuss the difference between truth, lies and what sits in between the two. But not tonight. It's getting late.'

Lucius nodded and stood. Before he could reach the door, Abraxas spoke again.

'Lucius?' Lucius turned around. 'If I can shield our Dark Arts lessons from the Ministry,' Abraxas continued, 'I assure you that underage magic will pose no problem at all.'