The Staff of Orkney

Chapter XVII

The Duel

“What’s this?” Ron asked, picking something shiny off the floor after Malfoy had slithered off.  As he held it up to show Harry, it began to glow.

“It’s a Truthstone,” Harry replied and took it from Ron.  It continued to glow as he walked down the hall, explaining to Ron about what it did.

“Wicked.  I want one.”  Ron licked his lips, which had blood on them from where Malfoy had split his lower lip.  Harry wanted to put the invisibility cloak over him. “Do you think Malfoy will miss it? It’s not like his father can’t buy him a new one.”

“No.” Harry placed the chain and stone into a pocket. “They’re rare and Malfoy might accuse you of stealing if he saw you with it.  I’ll give it to Professor LeSal, which reminds me—you should probably put on the invisibility cloak.”

Ron stopped and pulled out the cloak. “Do you think he’s going to snitch?”

“Not if he doesn’t want the whole school to find out you beat him up.”

“How do I look?”

“Can’t see a thing.”

“Good.”

“Now be quiet, we’re almost there,” cautioned Harry.

“You know what, though?”

“Shhh.”

“That felt good.”

“What did?”

“Breaking Malfoy’s nose.”

*

It felt like moving through the flu network only without all the smoke and ash.  As soon as he felt his feet planted firmly on the lawn, he had to check over himself to make sure that all of him had made it successfully over to where Snape stood.

“It’s about time,” Snape commented harshly.  He was in a sour mood—an exceptionally bad one.

“That was wonderful, Harry,” LeSal said gleefully.  “You caught on quick and no splinchings and no winding up in the middle of the Forbidden Forest.”

They stood outside on the lawn.  Harry had successfully Apparated from one point on the edge of the Forbidden Forest to a place a few yards away at Snape’s side.

“Now try again,” Professor Snape wasn’t half as pleasant looking as LeSal at the moment, so Harry held tight to his wand and uttered the spell while concentrating on the point to where he wished to Apparate.  The whole incident with Draco Malfoy was pushed to the back of his mind with the excitement of learning this new spell.  He wished he could see Ron’s face as he glanced over at Hagrid’s vegetable patch to where he knew Ron had taken a seat on a nearby tree stump.

“Now remember,” Snape explained as he walked across the lawn toward Harry who had just Apparated next to Professor LeSal.  “Remember to keep a clear idea in mind of your destination and never, never, try to Disapparate without your wand.  It is important that you only use your wand.  This is a spell that cannot be safely done with a borrowed wand.  Are you listening to me, Potter?”

“Yes, professor.  Only attempt to Apparate without my wand.”

Snape got furious at this while LeSal laughed with Harry. 

“I think he heard you the first time, Sev,” LeSal broke in.  “You got the hang of it, don’t you, Harry?” Professor LeSal had lightened up somewhat and Harry was thankful that he had.  He didn’t know how he would have survived Apparition lessons otherwise.  “Well, now.  Is that all for today?  I believe it is.”

“No.” Snape had an odd look on his face.  One that Harry couldn’t discern: similar to the one at the end of year feast last year.  “Dumbledore is supposed to be here.”

“He is?” LeSal looked puzzled, then his face darkened. “Oh…”

Suddenly, Harry remembered the Truthstone.  If Dumbledore was supposed to be joining them, he thought it best to return it now.  “Professor LeSal,” he pulled the Truthstone from his pocket, “I found this in the hall.  I think it belongs to Malfoy.” He held out the dull, white colored crystal fastened to the silver chain.  LeSal drew away from Harry who was reminded that he couldn’t come in contact with the professor, and so he turned to Snape who held out his hand for it.  It started to glow as Harry handed it to him and continued to do so as Snape tucked it safely away.

“Headmaster?” LeSal was looking out over the lawn at an approaching figure.  Both Harry and Snape turned to see.

“And how are the lessons coming along?” Dumbledore’s voice was soft and friendly yet Harry picked up an uncharacteristic hint of solemnity and sadness.

“I Apparated, professor,” Harry informed, smiling.

“Ah, yes, very good, Harry.  Remember though, you can’t Apparate into Hogwarts and you must always use your wand.  Not Mr. Weasleys, nor Miss Granger’s, but yours only.”

Harry swore that he caught a sly look pass from Snape to LeSal.

“So,” Dumbledore sounded so old, “everything is ready for tonight? Everyone’s been contacted and the potion is ready?”

Snape gave a curt nod.

“And is everything set as far as you’re concerned?” he asked gravely of LeSal.

“Yes, headmaster,” LeSal replied quietly.

Dumbledore placed his hands behind his back and let out a long sigh.  He studied the grass before turning to Harry, “Did you bring an extra change of clothes with you, Harry?”

Harry nodded sickly as he now realized what the change of clothes was for.  “I brought an old pair of robes,” he explained.  “I thought that they were going to be used for…for a lesson involving cauldron cakes or something…” He felt so stupid after saying this.

“Cauldron cakes?” Dumbledore chuckled as he glanced at Snape.  “You’re using cauldron cakes in your lessons, Severus? I would have never have given it a thought.”

Normally, Harry would have expected Snape to scowl, but—his mouth curled up into a small sort of smile.

“Oh, and if I could see your glasses too, Harry,” and Dumbledore withdrew his wand as Harry handed him the change of clothes.  Harry removed his glasses and handed those over as well.  Dumbledore softly mumbled some words and tapped them and there appeared an identical pair.

“I feel bad,” Harry said as Dumbledore returned him his glasses.  “You having to turn into me for this.”

“And why should that make you feel bad?” Dumbledore was digging through his pockets.  He stopped when he found what he was looking for and brandished a small golden pair of scissors in the shape of a crane.

“Well…you’re a great wizard,” Harry explained.  “Are you going to fight Voldemort looking like me? Because you should look like you…it wouldn’t be right.”

“No?” There was a brilliant flash of color then the fluttering of wings.  Harry felt something settle down on his shoulder.  Dumbledore leaned back and smiled.  “It’ll be an honor.  I’ll be transforming to look like another great wizard.  And if you don’t agree, I believe Fawkes would vouch for me.” Harry turned his head to see the scarlet and gold phoenix perched on his shoulder. “Now see here,” Dumbledore said jokingly as Fawkes put his head next to Harry’s ear.  “What’s the meaning of this? Don’t like the old man anymore?” As if in response, Fawkes flapped his enormous wings and glided over to settle on Dumbledore’s shoulder.  Dumbledore reached up and stroked lovingly the bright plumage.  “Thought I’d take him outside for a bit, let him stretch his wings.” He smiled and turned to Snape, “How’s Bertram doing?”

Snape looked somewhat startled by the question.  He turned away before replying in a barely audible tone, “I let him go.”

Evidently, Dumbledore hadn’t expected this response, and it troubled him; Harry could read it in the way he was looking at Snape, who was trying to avoid him.  When it seemed that Snape was not going to turn around, Dumbledore approached Harry.

“Harry, I’m going to need some of your hair for the potion.” He placed the clothes on the ground and with the small golden scissors, trimmed a small lock of Harry’s messy black hair and placed it into a small pouch.

Harry couldn’t stand it any longer.  “I need to go with you,” he stated firmly.  “This is partly my fault—Voldemort being back.”

Dumbledore’s face crinkled up and Harry swore that he saw tears forming in the old wizard’s eyes.  “No Harry,” he said ever so softly.  “You have done so much.”  He threw a comforting arm over Harry’s shoulders.  “Never think that Voldemort’s existence is your fault.”

“But if I hadn’t been there last year.”

“There was nothing you could have done.  It was my fault for not catching Crouch.  Years ago, I would have never let such a thing slip by…” he trailed off.  “No, I failed you.  You should have never have had to go through such an ordeal.  I should have been there that night with you.”

Fawkes stretched his wings, embracing both headmaster and student in the glistening feathers.  Harry looked over and spotted a tear that had trickled down Dumbledore’s cheek and lodged itself by his crooked nose.

“Now, now,” he said, drawing away.  “What’s past is past, and we must look to the future.  Do things as best we can.  So tonight, I don’t want you to worry.  I have faith that all will be put right tonight and the one thing I ask of you, is to stay in the castle.  Don’t leave—even to visit Hagrid,” and he said in a louder tone, “I am sure you and Mr. Ronald Weasley can find something to do inside the school.  In fact, I’d like to ask Mr. Weasley to be sure that you do.”

Harry had to smile.  “How do you know?” he whispered.

Dumbledore chuckled.  “When you’re as old as me, you’ll know too.  I’m an old man, Harry.  An old, old man,” and Dumbledore turned away, heading toward Snape with Fawkes still standing guard on his shoulder.  “Now run along Harry, and try not to worry yourself too much about us.”

*

Harry felt absolutely horrible about the planned duel for that night.  Then again, Malfoy made him so angry.  He was Death Eater material: no question, and his father was probably out—well, hopefully LeSal would be successful in distracting him.

He walked alone down the long corridors, thinking about Dumbledore and Snape and Sirius and Lupin.  The sunset had been violently pink and it lit up the hallways, but it was slowly fading as darkness fell.

He’d make this quick.  He’d put his full energy behind a simple disarming spell and have Malfoy knocked out against the wall before the duel had barely begun.  Then he could return to his room and just wait for morning.

He came to the spot where Malfoy had said they should meet and he waited.  It wasn’t quite nine yet, so he slid down to the floor and sat studying his wand.  It was rather beautiful; a simple work of art.  The wood was polished to where it nearly shone and the handle was carved so that it fit his hand.  Though now, his hand was much larger and if he grew anymore, it might not fit so perfectly.

“So you ready?” Malfoy loomed over him, black robes making his complexion even paler.  His hands were set firmly on his hips.

“I’ve been here waiting,” and Harry heaved himself off the floor.

“Shall we then?” The way Malfoy was looking at him gave Harry the urge to just throw their wands aside and decide this with fists.  They were about the same height, but Malfoy had a rather frail build.

Harry followed him deeper into the dungeons.  At least he wouldn’t have to worry about Snape—Snape; for once, he truly felt sick with worry for the greasy Potions professor.

Malfoy stopped at a heavy wooden door and tried the knob.  “Alohomora,” he commanded when that didn’t work and the door clicked open. “After you.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry was still waiting for some sort of deception.  “You go first.”

“Still don’t trust me, Potter?” Malfoy tried to sound hurt. “Really, I’m looking forward to this duel.”

“No, I wouldn’t trust you behind a knut,” Harry muttered as Malfoy entered the room.  It was evidently used for potions in progress as there were numerous cauldrons bubbling over fires in the back.  There seemed to be enough room for a duel, though, and it appeared vacant.  He scanned the room carefully before entering just to be sure.

“It’s only me.  See?  No tricks, as I promised.”

For once, it seemed as if Draco was speaking the truth.  He stepped into the center and withdrew his wand, but as he did—the door slammed shut and the lock slid across, apparently on it’s own.

A horrible feeling crept into him.  There was someone else in the room his heart raced as he looked around, then it occurred to him: that person could be invisible.

“You’ve deceived me!” Harry tried to sound more angry than scared, but it didn’t come out that way.  “There’s someone else here.”

“I don’t see anyone,” Malfoy said slyly. “And I kept my word: no Crabbe, no Goyle, no other friends of mine, no professors.”

Wildly, Harry tried to sort out who could be left.  The Bloody Baron? No, a school ghost would never harm a student or take part in any silly duel.  Why did he have to be so stupid?

“Oh, I will admit that I did invite one person,” Malfoy said offhandedly. “Since you seemed to have so much to say about my father, I thought it might be nice if you got the chance to say it to his face.”

A sick feeling hit him. He need needed to get out now.  There were no windows, only the door. Harry gripped his wand tightly and made a run for it, but as he feared, he didn’t make it to the door.  Lucius Malfoy tore off an invisibility cloak and stood squarely in front of him. Harry stopped just before hitting into him, and thought quickly.

Putting his new found strength behind his wand, Harry yelled out, “Expelliarmus!”

Mr. Malfoy was thrown off his feet and his back slammed against the door, the wind knocked out of him and as he slid to the floor, he stared wide-eyed at Harry.

“Crucio!”

Harry whirled around in time to see Draco with his wand raised, his face an expression of sheer and utter glee, as this was the first time he could use this curse on a person.  A flash of light burst from his wand.  It was too late to block it entirely, but Harry managed to lessen the effect.  A pain ripped through him, causing him to stumble. He staggered for a moment.  Draco’s spell had been surprisingly strong and for once, Harry wondered what would happen if he himself cast that spell.  He wanted to, but instead, he raised his wand.

“Serpensortia!”

A snake burst from his wand tip, just as it had with Snape whispering in Draco’s ear several years ago.

“Get him,” Harry commanded, pointing to Draco.  “He’s trying to hurt me.”

“He’s a parselmouth?” he heard Lucius croak.

Lucius Malfoy was getting up, rubbing his head and licking at the blood in the corner of his mouth.  Harry turned to face him while Draco was kept busy with the snake.

“You’re a tenacious brat.” Lucius spat.  “Draco, stop playing around with the snake.  I may need your help.”

From behind him, there was a bang and Harry thought he heard the snake scream out, but he didn’t turn around.  Lucius was far more dangerous than his son and Harry didn’t dare take his eyes off him.

Lucius’ wand suddenly burst with bright light and cords shot toward Harry to bind him, but he was successful in repelling them until his legs were pulled out from under him.  Draco had him by his knees and was struggling to keep Harry pinned to the floor.  Harry struggled to raise his wand to cast some spell on Draco, however, something crunched down on his arm—hard.

He gasped in pain and looked over to see Lucius Malfoy’s boot on his wand arm.  His wand was torn from his fingers.  Then, Harry watched in horror as Lucius, in a fit of rage, snapped Harry’s wand over his knee and threw the pieces into the fire under one of the simmering cauldrons.  The fire hissed hungrily and briefly grew in brilliance as it consumed the broken wand.  Harry saw the wood split and a red feather curl against the heat.

“There. Enough of that nonsense,” Malfoy muttered, removing his foot off Harry’s arm.  He repeated the spell with the shining cords and this time, Harry couldn’t block it.

Once Harry was bound, Draco stood up and stared down at him.  “I’m so sorry, Potter, but you chose your own fate.  I will say I’m sorry that you didn’t choose your side better, for I must admit, you’re very good.  You and I would have made a wonderful team…”

“Stop crowing, Draco and tell me what time the curfew starts.”  Mr. Malfoy was picking up his invisibility cloak off the floor. Harry noticed that it definitely wasn’t his, as it appeared larger and older.  No doubt, Malfoy had easily been able to afford one of his own.

“Ten,” Draco replied.  He was holding his wand menacingly over Harry.

“Ten? I thought I told you I wanted him here during curfew so that I could get him out more safely.”

“But I couldn’t get him down here any later.  I tried.  I was lucky enough to get him here alone.”

Lucius paced and stared at the door.

Get him out? Fear began to freeze Harry as he lay on the cold stone floor.  Was Lucius going to take him to Voldemort?  Oh, God, he had to get out of this. If he showed up with Dumbledore there… He tested the cords that bound him but they only seemed to get tighter the more pressure he placed on them.

“I’ve got an idea,” Draco said timidly.  He seemed jumpy around his father.

Lucius stared skeptically at his son and raised an eyebrow.

“It’ll be easy,” Draco assured.

“Then out with it.” Lucius was jumpy too.

“Umm,” Draco’s voice was shaking.  “We put the invisibility cloak on him then I walk out with you.”

“I’m not supposed to be here!” his father pointed out gruffly.

“If any professors stop us, you could just tell them there’s been a death in the family and you’ve come to tell me.  I haven’t seen Professor Snape all day—and he’s probably with everyone right now, anyway, so you can say he allowed you to come.  I’ll even look all upset and everything.”

Lucius seemed to be mulling this over.  His son had actually come up with a feasible plan.  “All right,” he said at last, and he pointed his wand at Harry’s throat.  “Nunqeium Sonorous.”

There was immediately a choking sensation that threatened to constrict Harry’s breathing.  He found that he couldn’t make a sound.  Things were looking grim.

Harry was levitated off the floor and turned upright before the invisibility cloak was thrown over him.

He wanted to scream, but his voice was muted.  He wanted to move, but he was held bound.  He didn’t know this curse that held him, so the counter-curse was beyond him.  Desperately hoping to find something that worked, he attempted to call upon the magic power inside him, trying to direct it at the magical cords that bound him, but all he seemed to accomplish in doing was to make the cords stronger.

They had made their way up to the main floor and were walking across the great red carpet that let to the main entrance.  Frantically, Harry tried to come up with something—anything.  He squirmed, attempting to jar the invisibility cloak: make it slip, but the cords got even tighter.  Fighting against the pain from the pressure, he jerked his head madly before spotting Professor McGonagall coming their way.

“Lucius Malfoy?” she said darkly.  “I did not know you had stopped to pay a visit.”  She looked up and down his full black robes and cape.

“Good evening, professor,” Lucius greeted, putting on a false polite tone.  “I just stopped by to see my son about some family business.  Very unfortunate business, really.”

She was eyeing him carefully.  Harry began to squirm again.  If only he could get one little bit of the cloak to slip down.

“Did you inform anyone you were coming?”

“Of course I did.  I contacted Severus Snape this morning.  Did he not tell you that I was coming?”

“I’m sorry. No, he didn’t.” McGonagall still didn’t look like she trusted what he was saying.

Lucius bent down to speak something softly into McGonagall’s ear.  “A death in the family: his grandmother.”

On cue, Draco began to look terribly grieved.

“Oh,” Harry couldn’t tell if McGonagall had swallowed the lie or not.  “I’m…I’m most sorry.  Are you taking Draco with you?”

“No. He’s just seeing me to the door,” and again, the Malfoys began to move forward, guiding Harry whom they had levitated.

“Good bye, Potter,” Draco said as soon as they were out of earshot of McGonagall.  “I hope you have a good time.  I’ve never had the chance to meet the Dark Lord before.  I’d ask you to tell me all about it, but unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be able to,” and with that, he marched off back toward the dungeons.

Harry gave one last attempt to dislodge the cloak.  The cords tightened.  It felt like his hands and feet were about to be severed. Still, he struggled until the pain fogged his mind and vision.  His body finally forced him to stop, and he could only watch helplessly as he was led out the door and toward the front gate.

Once well beyond on the road to Hogsmeade, Mr. Malfoy grabbed Harry by the arm and touched a loose stone in the wall.

There was the familiar feeling of being dragged along by a port key and Harry’s head spun until they landed on firm ground.  He immediately fell over with Lucius still holding onto him.  The invisibility cloak was pulled off him and to his relief, the cords removed.  Slowly, he sat up and massaged his wrists, which had thick, red welts where the cords had bit into his skin.

As he looked around him, there appeared to be no one about.  He was sitting by a stonewall on a small rise overlooking a field bathed in moonlight.  On a distant hill, stood the ruins of an old Scottish abbey.  A sharp whinny pierced the night air and Harry turned around to see a large gray horse tethered to a scrawny, wind beaten tree.  Its dapple coat reflected the light of the three-quarter moon and he noticed it had feathers on its legs and enormous, plate sized hooves.

Lucius roughly hoisted Harry to his feet and dragged him over to the horse.  It skittered to the side as Harry was forced to climb up behind the saddle.

“Don’t you dare try anything,” Lucius warned as he swung himself into the saddle.  “This Magus Mare happens to be extremely loyal to me.  If anything happens—she’s been known to bludgeon men to death with her hooves.” Malfoy pulled the hood to his black cloak up over his head and pulled out a mask—a Death Eater mask—and positioned it on his face before gathering up the reins.

Harry didn’t know what else to do but hang on to the back of the saddle as Lucius kicked the horse in the flanks, and they started out at a canter across the field, the mare’s hooves throwing clumps of sod as it went.  He bounced along on top of the animal’s powerful hindquarters as they galloped up a crest toward the abbey ruin.

Lucius pulled the mare to a trot as they neared the entrance and Harry feared he’d be shaken off.  They clip-clopped across stone to an inner courtyard where other Magus Mares stood tethered.  The animal stopped near the herd, all tacked and ready to be ridden.  There were little more than a dozen.

Once the horse had stopped prancing and snorting, Lucius dismounted and pulled Harry roughly down to the ground.  Harry felt as if his arm was about to ripped out of its socket, Malfoy was pulling on him so hard.

Something then struck Harry as odd, and eased some of his anxiety.  His scar didn’t hurt.  Perhaps Voldemort would come later, but for now, it seemed that he wasn’t around.

Harry didn’t want to look as he was led into what had once been the main chapel: the roof was gone, the windows gone, and weeds now sprouted between the stones on the floor.  He was afraid of seeing Snape and Dumbledore…

“I have brought a gift!” Lucius proclaimed loudly upon entering.

About fifteen Death Eaters turned to face him, their white masks blank.

Lucius’ boots clicked across the stones as the emotionless masks watched.  It was then that Harry noticed that one Death Eater seemed to stand out from the rest.  His hair was not hidden by a hood: it hung down to his waist in a ponytail.  And he held in his long, thin fingers, a mage’s staff, the stone of which was putting of a soft, green glow.