Slytherin's Warning

Godric loved the open fields and the nearby forests. Whenever possible, he held his lessons out-of-doors.

Helga designed all the common rooms. All the students came to think of Hogwarts as home.

Salazar added secret passages by the dozen, little rooms with no doors, some hiding one treasure or another, if one knew where to look.

Ravenclaw sometimes stood on the cusp of the school's wards. She was so very attuned to Magic--she breathed it, she saw the shape of it around her, in a way that others could not.

I believe this to be true--I see it in my heart, Ravenclaw swaying to the music of the wards, as surely as I see the page and quill before me. And if I believe it, does my imagination not make it so?

Ignatius Credo, philosopher (Ravenclaw, class of 1347)

It being the dead of winter, darkness had already settled over the countryside, and the plants Draco remembered growing near the gate were iced-over brown stems. The wards didn't permit him entrance, and Lupin wasn't moving under his own power. So, although lights were already coming on in the elves' guardhouse, and in one room of the manor, Draco still sent up red sparks--the universal call of distress.

The house elf gibbered when it saw him, but Draco only had eyes for the woman emerging from the house. He called to her, "Help!"

Augusta Longbottom looked down her nose at him. "Young Malfoy. And reeking of Darkness." Her gaze flicked over Lupin and then back to Draco again, if anything, steelier. "And that is one of your Death Eater friends in disguise?"

Of course--he no longer had Jacob Elliott's features to hide behind. "I'm not a Death Eater," Draco said, lowering Lupin all the way to the ground as gently as he could, then pulling up his sleeve to reveal his pale, unmarked arm. "And it is Lupin. He can't go to Mungo's but he needs help, badly. I think--he's...." Her eyes seemed to see right through him, though he detected no Legilimency probe.

"Stand back." Draco reluctantly did so, and with quick, sure actions surprising in one her age, Mrs. Longbottom and the house elf drew Lupin within the manor's wards. She cast a few spells Draco didn't recognize, and looked grim. Well, more so than usual.

"What did you do to him?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Draco said urgently. "He set off some kind of reaction.... There was a ring of light that hit him."

"Magical backlash?" she questioned. "How did this happen?"

"I--I don't really know," Draco admitted. "Potter could tell you. He went on to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? For a visit or a battle?"

"A battle, I think. The battle."

Mrs. Longbottom's mouth twisted into a deeper frown. "What are you doing here then? Go on, I'll see to him."

Still Draco hesitated. "Will he be alright?" But the look on her face said it all--that she didn't think so. Draco watched as she cast Leviocorpus and started towards the manor. She did not invite him through the wards, and the house elf was clearly watching him. After the figures of the old woman and unconscious man disappeared into the house, and more lights turned on, Draco turned on his heel, drew a breath, and focused on the road from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts.

The scene was one of total chaos. There seemed to Draco to be an inordinate number of people, all milling around in terrified confusion. A number of buildings were on fire, only partially illuminating the night sky, and most people were either Apparating away or fleeing into the forest. But those at Hogwarts did not have the option of Apparating, and if they tried running from the grounds to the village, it would be a gauntlet of the bloodiest kind.

If it was daylight, Draco could have seen the rising towers of the school, but the only things now visible were the lights. Many, many flashes of light. "I must be out of my mind," he muttered to himself, and then headed towards the battle at a run, somehow avoiding the patches of ice on the ground.

When he rounded the last corner, and the fields lay out before him, Draco paused, taking in the scene. The silhouettes of the fighting witches and wizards were stark against the dusting of snow. Here and there, he could make out more shapes huddled on the ground. At length, he ran forward.

As he entered the fray, Draco found himself immediately on the defensive. First an Auror sent a stunner his way, which he dodged, a student he didn't recognize with a Ravenclaw badge tried to disarm him, which Draco easily blocked, and a Death Eater cast Avada Kedavra. Draco threw himself to the ground and watched the Auror and Death Eater fighting. A soft, choked sound made him turn.

It was the Ravenclaw. There was a well-shined Prefect's badge pinned to his robes as well, so he as probably a Fifth or Sixth Year. As their eyes met, both Draco and the boy fumbled for their wands. The boy hissed, "You're Draco Malfoy!"

Draco saw no reason to deny it, and whispered back, "Where are the other students?"

"I'll never tell you!" In the same moment, they saw a dark blue curse flying their way, and as one rolled away from it.

"Idiot!" Draco snarled, keeping his voice low. "Haven't you noticed? The Death Eater just tried to kill me!" A trace of uncertainty flickered across the Ravenclaw's face. Draco pressed, "Just tell me the situation." The Ravenclaw shot off a quick Protego and Draco followed suit. He considered conjuring a hood to hide his distinctive blond hair, but didn't want yet another reason for Hogwart's defenders to consider him a Death Eater.

When the Ravenclaw began to speak, it was in low, clipped tones, the strain of holding his shield for so long showing in his voice. "McGonagall is in the castle maintaining the wards but the other professors are all here. They gave the Fifth Years and up the option of coming out and most of us did. But they have snakes, Inferi, villagers under the Imperious, and werewolves."

"There can't be werewolves, it's not a full moon," Draco snapped, feeling impatient.

"In their human form I mean. I recognized Fenrir Greyback--I saw his picture in the paper. He jumped at someone and started clawing at him."

When three pale orange curses came their way, Draco turned away from the boy and sent off a few curses of his own. Nothing fatal, as he didn't know which side the attacker was on. He was belatedly realizing that he wasn't in any position to know who to curse--both sides were equally likely to see him as the enemy. But excepting a few students who had come to the battle on behalf of the Dark Lord, most people in Hogwarts robes were likely to be Light Wizards.

"We need to get away from here," Draco whispered, and turned back to his companion. The other boy was turning blue, a panicked look on his round face. The irony of strangulation hexes was how remarkably easy they were to break--if one had the use of his voice. Draco cancelled the hex and sent Reducto at the Death Eater who had been watching and laughing. Then he leaned down in front of the boy. "Where are the Hogwarts students?"

"I don't really know.... I got separated from them. That way maybe?" Draco followed him closer to the castle, again casting mostly defensive spells. The fighting seemed concentrated in two areas. Some small, detached part of Draco's mind was astounded that thus far, he'd only been dealing with stragglers from the main fight.

One swarm of people, he discovered, consisted of the residents of Hogwarts and many, many attackers. Here, determining friend from foe would be much easier. He saw Flitwick, spinning around two attackers in a display of acrobatics before felling them both with one invisible curse. He saw Hufflepuffs standing back to back, calling warnings to each other and firing spell after spell without pause. And as a path opened before him, Draco saw Neville Longbottom. It took him a moment to recognize the Gryffindor--when had the timid little squib become a warrior, anyway?

Then the stinging of a hex glancing off his leg brought Draco back to himself. He spun around and sent a bludgeoning hex at the attacker, and from behind the skull mask he heard a very familiar pained grunt. Goyle.

He couldn't see Goyle's eyes of course but he could imagine the dumb confusion on his--acquaintance's--face. The hex had hit Goyle directly on the neck, and as his blocky figure crumpled to the ground, Draco backed away.

Crabbe and Goyle had never been his equals but they had always been there. He'd shut them out of his mission Sixth Year, and while he'd spent the last several months with nothing to do but reflect, they'd obediently continued along the paths they were raised for. Until now. Crabbe must be somewhere nearby, if he still lived, and Draco hoped to Merlin their paths would not cross.

He did his best to lose himself in the fighting, to focus his attention entirely on his surroundings. But that sound, so soft and familiar, and caused by him.... He was helping another student up--he realized it was a Gryffindor only as the girl stammered a thank you--when from the battle's other center, he heard Potter's voice; "Kill the snake!"

Which snake? Death Eaters were conjuring them left and right. In the confusion of the swarm of bodies, the light from the visible hexes cast the shapes of the serpents into strange, writhing shadows. Draco had no idea which snake Potter might mean.

A shout went up about five yards to Draco's right, though, and the crowd of Hogwarts students pressed in that direction. Still he couldn't see the snake, until as the shadows shifted, they resolved into a shape Draco knew--that of the Dark Lord's pet.

Longbottom had taken up Potter's cry. "Get the snake, get the snake! But watch your backs! Partner up!" And the students obeyed--mostly. When Draco turned to the person next to him, he came face-to-face with a Hufflepuff from his year, Maxilum or something like that. The Hufflepuff's eyes widened, and he turned away decisively.

Another student stepped beside Draco, and he was surprised to see his housemate Tracey Davis. She visibly brightened when she saw him. "Thank Merlin!" she exclaimed, smoothly dropping into position to support him. "I thought I was the only Slytherin out here--defending, I mean."

Draco and Davis had never been allies within Slytherin, but neither had they been enemies, Davis always taking care to stay out of Draco's feuds. Rather than attacking the snake directly, they set about providing cover for those who were. Even as Draco cast one shield, deflected one curse, he was assessing the rest of the battle. The Death Eaters and those fighting with them, willingly or otherwise, came in wave after wave. But Draco also saw many students he recognized from his own year.

Dean Thomas was conjuring balls of fire and sending them at the Inferi. Mandy Brocklehurst and Lavender Brown were killing the smaller, yet still deadly snakes of the Death Eaters. Megan Jones was rushing between wounded students, eyes wild and hair in disarray. Porkeys were blocked and the castle was sealed; there was no place to send them. Hannah Abbott and Terry Boot were directing the younger students, the Fifth and Sixth years.

Then the fireballs stopped. Thomas's wand was blasted to pieces right in his hand. He only had a moment to gape at the splinters embedded in his skin before the light of another curse washed over him, and he fell. Then the Inferi rushed forward, their wide-open jaws revealing jagged teeth. Immediately more people started conjuring fires, but the damage was done, and horrific shrieks came from where the Inferi had found prey.

Longbottom now had one arm dangling uselessly at his side--but speed wasn't his strength anyway, Draco recalled, ducking another Cruciatus. Longbottom hadn't seen Draco. A roar went up when one of the Gryffindor's spells gave the great snake a gash--even though the minor injury only seemed to anger it. And Draco briefly heard Potter's voice again, yelling--something. He couldn't make out the words. "How is he still alive?" Draco gasped as Davis spun close.

Not taking her eyes off the purple curse passing through where she'd been a moment before, Davis said matter-of-factly, "You-Know-Who wants to kill Potter himself. The Death Eaters are just to tire him and keep him from the rest of the fight. But--"

One Death Eater tried to be clever and transfigured a wand from the ground into a sword. Draco smirked; the Death Eater must not have known that Malfoys started studying the art of fencing at the age of four. The blade heading for Draco's throat was easily blocked and sent into his opponent's stomach instead. He exchanged a look with Davis, and in unspoken agreement they ran towards the thrashing snake. On the way, they passed MacMillian's body.

Davis sent up a Patronus (Draco didn't make out the shape) and finished her earlier thought, "But Potter isn't showing the same restraint. He's cast the Killing Curse three times already that I saw." A breath, and she started to continue, but stumbled, breaking off with a dismayed cry. The rust-coloured snake at her feet reared back and then struck her ankle a second time. A second later it was gone, a bloody mess on the snow, but the bite could not be undone.

"Go on," Davis said. "I'll go back to Jones." Her tone brooked no argument. As Draco headed further into the melee alone, he heard her call, "Be careful! We don't want the outcome to rest on the Hufflepuffs!"

The snake was retreating now, though still not beaten, and Longbottom's group pushed after it. Draco heard a quiet snap as he stepped forward and froze in horror when he realized he'd stepped on a human arm. At least the man was beyond any pain. Another louder, sharper cracking sound made Draco's stomach twist, but... was that... Apparition? But Apparation was impossible on the Hogwarts grounds! It couldn't be--but the Death Eaters ringing around Potter now cast about in confusion. The Boy-Who-Lived was gone.

Draco kept firing spells, but his mind felt numb. It was like he was surrounded by fog, the people all around very far away, the bodies dotting the ground abstract art. Why had he come, anyway? Lupin had never asked this of him. And besides, Lupin would never know Draco was here. He was dying, or dead, just like everyone else.

It was in that moment that a Death Eater interrupted Draco's thoughts, saying conversationally, "Well, well, well. If it isn't Draco--you can't possibly be a Malfoy anymore, so it must be just Draco."

Draco recognized the voice; Timothy Plesser. A few years older than Draco, he'd devoted most of his Hogwarts years to hoping everyone would somehow forget the muggleborn great-grandmother on his mother's side. As if any of them ever would. Draco'd had more influence in his first year than Plesser'd had in his seventh.

Plesser continued, "Were you a traitor all along, I wonder? Or did you simply not have the courage, the cunning, to--"

"Avada Kedavra." Plesser fell. Draco stared dumbly at the body. Though he knew it was an illusion, the battle raging around him seemed to still. Though he could not see them, Draco looked at where the skull mask hid the eyes of the person before him. "Master Snape."

"What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Draco shivered. "I don't know," he admitted. "I didn't know what else to do. Lupin is hurt, I think he might be dead--"

"You're still with him?" Draco couldn't figure out Master Snape's tone. Was he angry? Pleased?

His former professor ordered, "Get out of here."

"Why?" Draco had never questioned Master Snape in such a way, although he'd doubted the man's intentions throughout his sixth year.

"Because you're only confusing the battle. Because you're stupidly throwing your life away. Because as the last of the Malfoys, it is your duty to continue the family line. Take your pick." Draco didn't move.

Master Snape huffed with annoyance. "If you're so determined to die, go tell Potter that the snake is dead. He'll know why."

There was a reason for killing it beyond the fact that it was the Dark Lord's familiar, and possibly the largest snake Draco had ever seen? How interesting. But... "Potter's not here. I don't know where--"

"They've gone back to Little Hangleton. I have a Portkey."

Little Hangleton--hadn't Draco seen that mentioned when he--oh. "It's true, then," he said, the last bit of disbelief dying. "The Dark Lord is a half-blood."

"Lupin's doing, I presume," Snape said mockingly.

"And you? Is it true? Are you a--a half-blood too?" Master Snape didn't answer, although no answer was its own answer, somehow--he just held up the Porkey in offer. Months ago, he had given Draco another Portkey. So much had changed, and now they were here again.

Master Snape must have misinterpreted Draco's expression, and added, "It's keyed into the barrier. You'll get through. Remember: tell Potter the snake is dead."

Draco blurted, "What side are you on, anyway?"

Master Snape said only, "The same side as every true Slytherin." He threw the Portkey at Draco, and Draco caught it reflexively. And the Portkey swept him away.

Lucius Malfoy taught that the dead were nothing to be feared unless one dishonoured them. Draco had often done his studies on pureblood family trees shaded by one of the mausoleums dotting Malfoy land. Graveyards did not, as a rule, bother him.

This one did. There was no reason for it, at least not one that Draco's physical senses could detect. Nothing unusual about the gravestones, even the tilted ones, nothing strange about the supernatural silence. Some unease undoubtedly came because this graveyard should not have been quiet. Where were the voices of the combatants? Or, if the battle was at long-last finished, why not some exultation from the Dark Lord? And--Draco's Dark locator spell, cast only a few hours earlier, sang in his veins, sensing the Darkest of magics nearby.

Draco moved cautiously forward, using the gravestones as cover and holding his wand at ready. At the back of the cemetery, he found Potter.