Invenio Cognatus

Chapter 4

Hermione stormed down the Hogwarts train into a compartment where Ginny and Neville were playing a game of exploding snap. She rummaged through her school bag, yanked out the book she had started reading over the winter holidays and stuck her nose in it, ignoring those around her. Ginny and Neville exchanged a confused look as Harry and Ron bounded into the compartment, Ron still sporting a few patches of pastel colors.

"Oi, what happened to you?" Ginny questioned Ron as her attention turned from Hermione to the boys.

"The twins," Ron replied with a shrug as he cautiously sat by Hermione. He did not want to startle her or piss her off and risk turning her infamous temper onto himself. He had been on the receiving end of her anger one too many times in the past to be anxious to repeat the experience. Ginny rolled her eyes and performed a cleaning charm on Ron, successfully removing traces of bright glitter he had missed. She looked at Harry inquiringly and nodded her head towards Hermione. Harry shook his head slightly and mouthed "Malfoy" as he sat next to Neville.

Ron nudged Hermione gently, trying to capture her attention from the book in front of her. "'Mione, what's wrong? I know Malfoy was being a complete wanker, but he's always been a right prat. What happened to 'Just ignore him Ron, he's just an obnoxious, pretentious, bigoted jerk?'" Ron asked, raising his voice in an attempt to mimic her voice.

Hermione turned her glare from her book to Ron, causing him to lean away from her. Noticing the concerned look on his face and obvious wariness in his posture, her glare faded into a softer expression of frustration as she turned her face toward the window. It wasn't Ron's fault that she had actually believed the Slytherins might be salvageable. That Draco Malfoy's behavior since summer had given her hope that the brewing war had not yet irrevocably divided the houses. It was obvious to her that Malfoy was the Slytherin poster boy. They all deferred to him and followed his lead. Most of them in their attitudes as well as their actions. And since his behavior toward muggle-borns had changed from disdain and disgust to indifference, she had hoped others would start following his lead. Oh, he had still been snide and nasty to Harry, but not nearly as bad as in their younger years. It had been nice not having to hear derisive remarks about her heritage every time he was near. Hermione knew that her muggle background didn't matter to most of the wizarding world but sometimes it still hurt to know that some would never see her as an equal or worth anything, no matter how brilliant or hard-working she was, just because of genetics.

Hermione turned her attention back to Ron and voiced some of her thoughts. "I know, Ron. You're right. I just thought that since Malfoy hasn't been that bad this year..." She trailed off and took a deep breath as her gaze shifted to Harry who was seated across from her. "I just thought that if he hadn't been his usual prejudiced self lately that maybe there was a chance we could turn some of the Death Eaters' children from that path. Make them understand how bigoted and wrong their parents' attitudes are. How absolutely ridiculous it is to judge a person's worthiness on purity of their blood." She spat out the last word angrily. As she stared into Ron's surprised gaze she realized there were tears in her eyes. He was right to be surprised, Hermione thought to herself. Rarely did he see her let Malfoy and the rest of the Pureblood bigots get to her. She hadn't realized they could still get to her. But after an entire semester of not being sneered at, not being called a Mudblood, she had taken it for granted, in a way. Assumed that it was a sign that maybe some of her fellow students were finally questioning the superiority of one wizard over another purely based on blood.

Harry nodded, as if he understood what she was trying to say. And maybe he did. Harry had also grown up surrounded by prejudice. Except in his case it was the exact opposite. His family was prejudiced against wizards, against 'freaks of nature', as his Uncle Vernon liked to call Harry and his friends. They had taunted him and abused him just because he was a wizard, like his parents before him. And unlike Hermione's situation, he had to return to them, alone, every summer. Without his friends by his side.

Finding strength in Harry, Hermione turned her attention back to Ron. "I hoped that they'd start thinking for themselves. That they'd see there are options other than just blindly following in their parents' footsteps. Maybe I was naïve but when Malfoy stopped calling me Mudblood, I thought it was a start." Hermione sighed and turned back to the window, "It was a pretty dream while it lasted." The tears trickled down her face and she angrily wiped them away. *Damn, Malfoy. Damn him to hell,* she thought. *And damn me for caring what happens to the Slytherins anyway.*

The silence that followed Hermione's monologue stretched while Harry and Ron had a quick, silent discussion with their eyes. Finally Ron moved over as Harry came to sit in-between him and Hermione. Harry put his hand on her shoulder and when she looked up at him he hugged her, not knowing how else to respond to the usually logical, brilliant girl who still believed in redemption, even for Draco Malfoy.

..............

"Morning Hermione." Harry called out cheerily as he and Ron made their way to the Gryffindor table. Harry sat down next to Neville, across from her, and Ron took the vacant seat on her right.

Ron smiled sleepily at her and began to shovel eggs into his mouth. "Oi, 'Mione, feeling better today?"

"Ew, Ron that is revolting! Must you show the entire table your food?" Hermione cried in disgust when Ron started chewing and talking at the same time. He responded with a cheeky grin, making her roll her eyes. "I do feel better, thanks for asking. Although next time, I'd prefer it if you asked without a mouthful of food. After all, as prefects we must be role models for the younger students. What kind of example are you setting when you demonstrate such horrid table manners? I know your mother taught you better than that!" Hermione scolded in a stern voice, trying to suppress the smile that was creeping onto her face. After a good night's sleep in Hogwarts, Hermione felt much better and was determined to enjoy the rest of her sixth year instead of allowing Malfoy to bring her down.

Across the Great Hall, Draco Malfoy was not having a good morning. He was exhausted from lack of sleep. The previous night, the ornate clock on the Slytherin common room wall rang out the late hour of twelve before Draco put a stop to the noisy revelry the sixth and seventh year Slytherins had engaged in. Once the rest of the Slytherins had retired to their respective dormitories; Draco, Blaise, and Pansy retreated to the privacy of Draco's room to continue their earlier discussion. Not much new information was forthcoming from Blaise. Although it appeared that Theodore Nott's relationship with Lisa Turpin was, in fact, a closely guarded secret since Theo had not mentioned her once during the impromptu celebration. In fact, he had been quite circumspect when asked about his holiday activities.

Daphne Greengrass had retired to her dormitory immediately after dinner, avoiding contact with the other Slytherins. Draco had sent Pansy to talk to the sixth year discretely and let her know that regardless of her parents defection, she was a Slytherin, and Slytherin protected it's own. Draco wished he could have spoken to Daphne himself. He wanted to reassure her personally that she was protected no matter where her personal allegiances lay. He could not, however, because a Malfoy's actions were in no way to appear sympathetic to any member or supporter of Dumbledore and his idiotic order. Or Harry Potter and his sad, pathetic, misfit band of followers who had dubbed themselves as Dumbledore's Army.

Draco sneered at the thought of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. His new determination to see his father dead did not change his ill feelings towards the golden trio. They may share a similar agenda in regards to Lucius Malfoy, but Draco would rather call Dumbledore a poncey fuckwit in front of the entire faculty and student body then admit it. That thought made him smile and he quickly smoothed out his expression to arrogant indifference. That old codger Dumbledore was always playing favorites with his precious Gryffindors. Draco snorted to himself. The Gryffindors complain about Professor Snape's favoritism but, of course, they are oblivious to the favoritism they receive from Dumbledore and McGonagall. Draco understood better than most what motivated Professor Snape to portray such obvious disdain for the other three houses. Snape did it, in part, to please the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters but Draco also knew a lot of it was to even out the playing field.

Draco's mind wandered back to Pansy's report last night. Something important had been revealed to the Dark Lord's inner circle over the winter break. Something that the Dark Lord only wanted his most trusted supporters to know. Pansy reported that her father had been very tight-lipped about the Dark Lord's news, which was unusual. Lucius was always reticent to reveal any information about Death Eater business, but not Mr. Parkinson. Pansy was usually able to get something useful out of her father. Draco wondered if it had anything to do with his mother's death or her revelation to him. He dare not mention that to Blaise or Pansy. Not until he had more information and was more definite about their true loyalties. He trusted them with Slytherin business, but this was personal.

The three Slytherins had discussed Pansy's latest information for at least an hour but got nowhere. Draco was unwilling to reveal what he knew and Pansy and Blaise were in the dark. Draco charged both of them with finding out anything they could and dismissed them. Exhausted physically and emotionally, Draco had gone right to sleep.

Rough laughter next to him brought Draco back to the Slytherin table. Crabbe and Goyle were looking at some magazine they were attempting to hide between them. And failing. Draco rolled his eyes. Probably another 'Luscious and Vivacious Wizards' magazine. Blaise raised his eyebrow across the table at Draco's facial expression. Draco nodded at the two goons and Blaise's lips lifted into a knowing smirk. "So easily distracted," Blaise commented quietly.

Pansy's voice cut across the table, "We should get to class or we'll be late." Draco and Blaise grabbed their book bags and followed her out of the Great Hall. He would open his mother's journal tonight.

..........

Despite his best efforts, it was the middle of the week before Draco got the opportunity to open his mother's journal. There had been some incidences of home-sick first-years and a fight had broken out between two fifth-year boys over a pretty fourth-year Ravenclaw. No new information on the Death Eaters had surfaced and Draco's Transfiguration and Potions essays for tomorrow's classes were already completed. After dinner Wednesday evening, Draco finally managed to evade Goyle and Crabbe and head towards the dungeons alone. He slipped past the Slytherin common room undetected and sighed in relief upon entering his private rooms. His rooms consisted of a bedroom, restroom, and a study that included a sitting area in front of a red brick fireplace. All were decorated tastefully in silver and royal blue with rich mahogany pieces for the four-poster bed, dresser, bookshelves, and desk. Originally intended for a Slytherin head boy or girl, they suited Draco well. It was a much more inviting living space than his lavish, impersonal rooms at Malfoy Manor.

He immediately went to the trunk at the foot of his bed, casting locking and silencing wards on his way to ensure privacy. Draco slowly removed the journal from a hidden compartment in the trunk. He gingerly turned it over in his hands and inspected the brown leather bindings. There was nothing extraordinary about the journal. In fact, it was a bit drab and looked more like something the Weasleys would purchase. Draco grimaced at the thought. Maybe his mother had kept it nondescript to avoid unwanted attention should it be left somewhere or lost. Though Draco doubted she would have ever misplaced it; she had always carried it on her person or kept it hidden in her closet. Draco had always thought his mother a little paranoid to hide it from Lucius (He could not even think of Lucius as his father anymore). The head of the Malfoy family would have sneered in contempt at the very idea of his wife keeping a diary, let alone lower himself to read such frivolous nonsense.

Draco moved from the floor to sprawl out on top of his bed. It had never occurred to him before that Narcissa might have feared Lucius. Draco opened the cover to reveal a blank page. He thumbed through the next few pages and discovered they were all blank. Recalling what Lucius had told him about Tom Riddle's diary; Draco pulled out a quill and ink from his school bag and wrote in clear, spidery scrawl: I request access to Narcissa Malfoy's entries

A few seconds later, his mother's elegant script appeared: Upon my death, I release this journal to my one and only son, Draco Lucius Malfoy. -Narcissa Black Malfoy

Draco frowned and wrote: I am your son, Draco Lucius Malfoy

After several minutes of waiting, the journal remained unresponsive. Draco cast a couple of advanced reveal charms: nothing. He cast a stronger reveal charm that bordered on the dark arts; still no change. Growing frustrated, Draco jumped off his bed and started pacing alongside of it. He tried to remember if his mother had ever divulged or hinted to him about a way to unlock her journal. Nothing came to mind. Draco growled in defeat, hurled his wand across the room, and stomped out of the bedroom into the study area. He threw himself onto the couch and stared moodily into the fireplace, watching the flames dance. Mesmerized by the flames, the tension slowly drained from Draco's body and his mind began to drift from the journal to more mundane things. As the minutes past, all thoughts started to fade and his breath deepened. Draco started as he sat up quickly, realizing he had begun to doze off. The flames came back into focus reminding him vividly of the black marble fireplace in the Malfoy library and the last evening he stayed up late reading in front of that fireplace. He had shared a few of the blood spells he'd learned that night with Blaise and Pansy earlier in the week. They had appreciated the usefulness of some and the danger in others. They had decided to share the more useful ones with the rest of their class and some of the seventh years. The more dangerous ones they would keep to themselves. As for the darkest, most lethal ones, well, Draco had kept those to himself.

As he let his thoughts wander, they returned to THAT night, as they most often did if he didn't keep a tight rein on them. At least now, alone, he could allow the tears to fall. He wished he could go back in time and tell his mother what she had meant to him. Wished there had been time to discover more about his twin sister. All she had told him was her name: Adriana. And of the journal. Not too much help. Draco's thoughts ground to a halt. There had been something else she had said... something about blood. At the time Draco had thought she was referring to his sister and him sharing the Malfoy blood, but maybe...

Draco jumped off the couch and ran to the bedroom. He scooped up his wand from the floor and grabbed the journal from his bed. He opened the cover and cast a curse upon his hand that sliced his palm open. He closed his wounded hand into a fist and squeezed causing the blood to drip onto the blank page in front of him. At first nothing happened, but as more blood covered the page, it began to disappear; absorbed by the journal. Narcissa's script appeared once more:

My darling Draco,

I reveal to you all that I have known and seen in the hopes that you may rectify the wrongs that have been done to this family. Wrongs committed by the Dark Lord, I pray he never returns, and wrongs committed by your father. By your blood, the journal is unlocked to you. Be careful that it does not fall into the wrong hands. Now heal your wound, my son, your blood is no longer needed. Find your sister and let her know all that I share with you. I love you both with all my heart.