Slytherin's Warning

When I see a Sorting Hat-style song in fanfics, I usually don't read it (because they're often terrible). However, I hypocritically hope you will read the poem in this chapter. It's not really essential to the plot, but it is where I got the title for this story (and, incidentally, is the first thing I wrote, long before I had an actual plot worked out). And while it doesn't scan perfectly, I think I come reasonably close to emulating JKR's style.

10 - Slytherin's Warning

We are sad to report the death yesterday of famed wizarding artist Janice Holzbauer. Janice was well-known for her innovations in the charms cast upon magical paints. It was often said of her portraits that they "returned their subjects to a life of sorts, just as friends and family liked to remember them being." Ironically, Janice never drew a self-portrait, and refused the offers of other artists who hoped to do so. As Janice was only 89, there will be an inquiry into the cause of death. For now, however, we extend our sympathies to her family and friends.

-The Daily Prophet, April 25, 1951

Draco swung around in surprise to face the newcomer, and saw a slender young woman with a heart-shaped face and spiky bubblegum-pink hair. Her wand was pointed straight at him, and for one frozen second Draco thought he'd been found out. But then he processed her words, even as she repeated them. "Who are you?"

"Jacob Elliott," Draco said. "I'll explain later--he needs help."

She still looked suspicious, but moved to the bedside, expression softening when she saw Lupin. Draco tried to follow the rapid string of spells she used, but was unable to focus on them. What caught his gaze was the way Lupin's head lolled to the side, seeming lifeless....

Draco tore his eyes away from the still form and focused on the woman--Dora, he assumed. The Auror. She wasn't as young as he first had thought; the pink hair was misleading and there were little lines around her eyes and mouth, though whether they came from laughter or too many worries, he couldn't say.

Draco conjured another white cloth, and dampened it with Aguamenti, wiping away the drying blood from the smaller cuts. Dora gave him a quick, approving smile. Finally she cast what looked like a monitoring charm on Lupin and gestured for Draco to follow her back into the main room. Draco did so, casting a last glance back at Lupin before quietly closing the bedroom door.

Dora waited until Draco used his wand to clean off his clothes, lightly tapping her own wand against her wrist as she watched him. Then she asked for the third time, "Who are you? Why are you here?"

"Jacob Elliott," Draco said, thinking fast. "My parents were killed by werewolves last month and my only remaining family are Dark supporters. I asked Mr. Lupin to hide me, to keep my presence here a secret." He could see that she didn't completely believe him, so he returned, "Can I ask who you are?"

"Oh, right. I'm Tonks." She wasn't Dora? Draco tensed again, and the woman noticed. "What?"

"Mr. Lupin never mentioned a "Tonks." How do you know him?" It seemed unlikely that she was a Death Eater, not with how she'd healed Lupin, but better to be cautious.

Tonks actually smiled a little, though it didn't reach her eyes. "No, he wouldn't have. Remus refuses to call me Tonks, but he's the only one who can get away with calling me Dora. He's my boyfriend." She had no problems with the term "boyfriend," Draco noted.

Better to keep her answering the questions, and not thinking too much about "Jacob Elliott." "And you're a medi-witch?"

"Oh no, not at all. I'm an Auror, so I just know a little First Aid." The wand was tapping against her wrist again; apparently it was a nervous habit. "Remus didn't tell me anyone was here with him."

"Well, good." She looked ready to start throwing hexes, so he backpedaled, "I mean, it's good to know that things I say to him in confidence stay so."

"But he shouldn't have secrets from me, not now."

"Look," Draco said, "If I was a young witch, I agree. But I'm not... inclined that way, and apparently neither is he."

Dora's eyes flashed. "You must not know him very well. I'd trust him with the Muggle Miss Universe. But secrets are dangerous these days."

The muggle reference went completely over Draco's head, so he did his best to meet the Auror's eyes. "I understand your worries. But I'm not here to hurt him." Was that true?

Dora said levelly, "You're hiding something."

"Isn't everyone? Mr. Lupin knows my secrets, and he lets me stay."

"Remus gives everyone the benefit of the doubt." Before Draco could respond, her wand was leveled at his head. "Levo os!"

Draco gasped as he felt something hit his Glamour. His hands were still darker than his true skin tone though....

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry!" Dora apologized, horrified. Understanding, Draco brought up his hands to cover his false scar, as though ashamed. "Here, I'm sorry, I'll fix it." The last thing Draco wanted was to have the Auror cast more spells at him. He stood and backed up.

"I think you've done quite enough already."

"I'm so sorry!" Dora said again. "I could tell you were wearing a Glamour and sometimes I just don't think." Draco said nothing, and her shoulders slumped. "I'll just go sit with Remus for a while," she said. Draco watched her go, caught between humiliation, even though the scar wasn't really his, and abject relief. His disguise had worked just as it was intended.

Just then, an owl arrived with the paper. Making a quick decision, Draco sat down and wrote a short letter. After taking the Prophet and paying the owl from a dish on the table, Draco tied his letter to its leg. The owl gave him a reproving hoot. "I've added money for the side trip. This letter goes to Augusta Longbottom, at Longbottom Estates." A moment later the owl was gone, flying away on silent wings.

Mrs. Longbottom,

Things cannot go on like this. I have the requisite Potions skill; you surely have all the required plants in your magnificent greenhouses. With your help, I shall brew Wolfsbane, and I will not allow him to dissuade me.

Jacob Elliott

For Draco was sure now that pride was the reason Lupin had not agreed to Wolfsbane for this month. It was stupid, and his refusal to accept anything that could be considered charity had nearly cost him his life. Honestly, Gryffindors!

There was a faint beeping from the bedroom, and a second later Dora appeared, wincing a little when she saw him. "Duty calls."

"Has he woken?"

"Not yet. But he should be alright now. And at least I know there's someone here to look after him." It was another apology of sorts, but she didn't seem to expect an answer. "Tell Remus I'll stop by when I can." And she Apparated away.

Draco glanced inside the room, cringing at the magenta and olive bedspread, but chose not to sit at Lupin's bedside. That would just be too awkward for them both. He left the door open though, as he settled in an armchair and unrolled the newspaper. More deaths. Groups sympathetic to the Dark Lord forming in mainland Europe, or at least finally starting to get attention.

On the opinion page, there was a back-and-forth between two editors with differing views. One editor called for the immediate extermination of all werewolves. All werewolves were guaranteed to be working for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named anyway, the man argued. Best to round them up and "take care" of them when they looked human, much safer than waiting until they were transformed.

The opposing editor agreed that all werewolves were evil, but balked at killing them when it wasn't the full moon. He suggested that the Ministry set up a camp for the werewolves, in northern Scotland perhaps, and ward it well so the werewolves could not leave. Let the problem "take care" of itself.

Draco put the paper down. The desperation and fear shouted at him from each line. The Statue of Secrecy was breached more often than the Ministry could cover it up, and only the sheer stupidity and inattentiveness of muggles kept the wizarding world from becoming public knowledge. The world was falling apart around them, and all by the will of the Dark Lord. Yes, it was the Dark Lord's aim to clean out the muggle taint on wizarding society, but now Draco had to wonder how much of wizarding society there would be left to save.

Unable to read any more, Draco went to check on Lupin. Lupin still looked awful--amazing that people could feel threatened by this man--but he appeared to now be in a natural sleep, as opposed to unconsciousness. Restless, Draco wandered out again. He reclined on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, eventually drifting off.

He remembered. A year and some months ago, the children of the Death Eaters were brought before the Dark Lord. Some of them looked nervous. Draco felt a little nervous excitement himself, but schooled his features into a calm mask. All the children were Slytherins. Draco knew there were recruits from other Houses too, but they would get a different speech. The Slytherins were the special ones, the ones of the Dark Lord's own House.

He remembered two masked and hooded Death Eaters bringing out a painting of Salazar Slytherin. Not that Draco had ever seen an authenticated portrait of the wizard--the greatest of the Hogwarts Four--but this was just how he knew Slytherin looked. The proud, pure features, the pale, aristocratic skin and glittering eyes. He exuded power and prestige. There was a general intake of breath from the gathered Slytherins. This was who the boys wanted to be and the girls wanted to wed.

The portrait was placed on a seat of honour, and one of the Death Eaters said, "All of you are familiar with the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, that tool of Gryffindor." He said "Gryffindor" like a curse word, and the Slytherins hissed. "That gave Ravenclaw an idea. She wrote a riddle no wizard has ever solved, saying only that it would lead to a great treasure; a book of knowledge unparalleled. Slytherin enchanted a portrait of himself. It speaks only to his heir, the Dark Lord, but it has one Song for young Slytherins, one song to wash the slander of the Sorting Hat from your ears. Now Listen."

Slytherin swept his gaze around the room, harsh and unapologetic. Surely a painting couldn't perform Legilimency, but Draco still felt exposed, despite his eagerness. Then the portrait sang, his voice low and pleasing in a contrast to the Sorting Hat's hoarseness.

My Slytherins take notice
this song is just for you
Great rewards will lie ahead
for those who prove they're true.
Your blood runs pure and ancient
ambition makes you quick
but those of most worth to your Lord
will find it's time to pick;
Pick now your lucky allies
in the coming war
Identify your enemies
and they shall number four:
Keen Rowen won't let well alone,
she'll note your every vice
Though our plan saves Wizardkind
she won't accept the price.
You'll blind her with bureaucracy
and smother her with facts
but while the Raven's line does live
you never may relax.
You might ignore the Hufflepuffs
but don't make that mistake
they'll die in droves before your wand
all for their savior's sake
So cultivate their loyalty
but never let them close
Helga taught of tolerance;
they're harder to turn than most.
Griffins trust nearly as much
but my snakes beware
they'll be your staunch opponents
once they've become aware.
Move swiftly, serpents, crush them now
before they can prepare.
But most of all, my loyal ones,
the dangers from within
will bring us down if you don't find
traitorous Slytherins.
They're out there, lurking in our midst
pretending to agree
and unless you smoke them out
they'll never let us be.
So with all haste kill Ravenclaws
spread blood of Hufflepuff
stand over Griffins as they die
but that won't be enough
Some among you will betray me,
slip poison in my cup
Your time is counting down, false friends,
and soon it will be up.

Slytherin's voice was hypnotic; as the echo of the last words faded, the students still leaned forward, entranced. Draco was the first to shake himself and look around at the others suspiciously. Someone here would betray Slytherin--he would take pleasure in unmasking the traitor, in dragging the guilty party before the Dark Lord and being honoured for his own loyalty. Most of the other Slytherins looked to be having the same thoughts. None of them were Malfoys, though. He would be the Dark Lord's most devoted servant and outshine them all.

That was when the Dark Lord entered the room, silent yet unmistakable, his robes billowing around his thin form, his head gleaming in the dull half-light of the room. He was supernaturally graceful and not entirely human--he was more than human. The Slytherins bowed down as one before the greatest wizard in the world. From the corner of his eyes, Draco saw the Dark Lord nod respectfully to his ancestor's portrait. The portrait nodded back, and then the two Death Eaters carefully wrapped up the priceless painting and carried it away.

An enormous snake followed the Dark Lord into the room and the Dark Lord said something to it in Parseltongue. The snake reared up, its forked tongue tasting the air, and it hissed back. The hisses sent a pleasant shiver down Draco's spine. Why could stupid Potter speak Parseltongue when he, Draco, deserved it so much more? But no, he would not waste thoughts on Potter tonight.

"For much of the year," began the Dark Lord. "You live in the lair of the enemy. Of the Old Fool." He spoke barely above a whisper, and the Slytherins hung on to each word. They hissed again at the mention of Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord looked briefly amused. "Yesss... each year he tries to turn you, to twist your loyalties to him and the other filthy mudblood lovers. But you have stayed true." Pride welled up in Draco's chest.

"And now I shall reward you. I will allow you to see a portion of my power, of the power of Slytherin that you may taste once all the muggles and mudbloods and blood traitors have fallen in the rubbish heaps where they belong. Bring the Auror!" A man wearing Auror robes was dragged into the room. Aside from a split lip, he didn't appear injured. His eyes narrowed when he saw the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord smiled. It was a terrible smile.

The Dark Lord flicked his wand and a shield went up between them and the children. Then, to Draco's astonishment, the Dark Lord casually tossed a dark wand to the floor. The Auror grabbed it and pointed it at the Dark Lord. "You bastard," the man said through gritted teeth. "Rot in hell."

"After you," the Dark Lord said silkily. If there had been no barrier, Draco would have killed the man himself, for his disrespect. But the children could only watch.

The Auror screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" and a brilliant green light shot out of his wand. The Dark Lord made no effort to cast against it or duck away, and as the curse connected green light flashed over the walls of the room Draco felt the shield shriek and crumble. A moment later the world went dark.

Draco was the first of the children to wake. The Dark Lord was sitting now, watching them. The Auror lay in a heap near one corner of the room, his eyes closed. Aching a little from landing on the stone floor, Draco crawled to the Dark Lord and kissed his robes. "Master...."

"Young Malfoy."

"Yes, Master?"

"Look at me." Draco looked up into the Dark Lord's red eyes and felt the presence of the Dark Lord burning through his mind. "You have potential," the Dark Lord said at last. "I may have a task for you...."

"Anything, Master," Draco swore. "Anything."

"Kill the werewolf and return to me."

"What?"

"Kill it." The world shifted around him and Draco was back in the forest, looking at a werewolf in a cage.

"But the full moon is over," Draco said in confusion, not knowing how he knew. The werewolf in the cage turned into Lupin.

"I don't expect anything from you," Lupin said.

"Kill it!"

Then Dora was next to him. "I trusted you! He trusted you!"

"I don't think you should have," Draco said shakily, but he didn't raise his wand.

"How useless you are," the Dark Lord sneered. "Avada--"

Draco woke up.