Forever

Chapter 03: The Hand That Rocks the Cradle.

"What's the matter?" Hermione asked anxiously. "You two look as though you've just seen a ghost."

"Nothing," Ginny said hurriedly. "We can't tell you now. Maybe later." She gulped.

"Huh!" said Ron huffily. "You may have loyalty issues but Harry'll tell us what's wrong, right mate?"

"For Gods sake!" said Ginny shrilly. Her voice was beginning to get rather hysterical. "If I say we can't tell you then we can't. It's not about loyalty, you stupid arse. Can't you get it into your thick skull that we might have a good reason not to tell you!"

People were starting to look round. Ron looked so taken aback that in other circumstances Harry would have felt quite sorry for him. Right now all he could think of was the green eyed boy at the Slytherin table. Tom Marvolo Riddle... I am Lord Voldemort... Did you think that I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever?... I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry...

Hermione patted Ginny's arm soothingly. "Calm down, Ginny. It's alright. You tell us whenever you can. We both understand if you've been told not to tell us anything. But perhaps if you could just point us in the general direction of - "

"No you don't," Ginny snarled. "You don't understand at all. You're just as bad as he is. We can't!"

"But Gin," said Ron, in what he clearly thought was a cajoling manner. "When they say 'don't tell anybody' they don't mean me and Hermione."

"That's right in a way," said Hermione. "Dumbledore has never left us out of anything that he has ever told Harry. It's not as if we would tell anyone."

Ginny had started to rock herself back and forth in her seat. Her face had closed up and was a white mask. Her freckles were standing out very red, in stark comparison to how pale she had gone. Hermione's words seemed to jerk her out it and she reddened with anger. "You're supposed to be smart Hermione. Just which part of 'We can't' don't you understand?"

"What I don't understand is why you are behaving so completely irrational about this. All we're trying to do is help!"

The last thing Harry wanted right now was to start discussing the matter. That would make it real. If they just ignored it then it would be all the easier to pretend that he and Ginny were suffering from induced hallucinations caused by exposure to Malfoy's antics. I destroyed the diary - what is he doing here? How did he get here? Can nothing I do stop him? Is he really Immortal? Then what chance do I have of stopping him?... One must die at the hand of the other...

"Can we please talk about something else," he said desperately. "Anything else. Oh look! The Sorting's started." He had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to pay attention to what was going on elsewhere in the hall. The first years had trouped in and the Sorting Hat had sung its song without him noticing.

Ron and Hermione exchanged odd looks but they complied. "What do you think the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher will be like?" said Hermione with false cheerfulness. "I do hope they're better than Umbridge was."

"Nobody could be worse than Umbridge," said Ron. "It would be some kind of record if they managed to find someone fouler then she was. What are your plans for the Quidditch team this year Harry?"

"What?" said Harry distractedly. "Plans? Oh yeah, I'll be playing I suppose. That is if I'm still on the team. Ginny was doing quite a good job... "

"Of course you're on the team! " exclaimed Ron. "Katie's the new captain! She says that you're back on as seeker. Haven't you heard? You're completely out of it, aren't you?"

"Sorry," Harry said dejectedly. He was back on the Quidditch team and he didn't even feel happy about it. Quidditch was one of the only things that he thought he was good at. What was the matter with him? Just the fact that Voldemort is in the room and hasn't tried to kill me and that everyone's fine with the fact that he's here in the room and they know that he's here 'cause McGonagall told me to keep my mouth shut. She told me not to tell anyone what I saw in the room. I saw Voldemort in the room. Voldemort's here and he hasn't tried to kill me as yet... Harry caught himself before his thoughts spiralled out of control.

The Sorting was over. "About time," said Ron. "I'm so hungry I could- "

"Eat a hippogriff. I know," said Hermione. "All you can think about when we get here is food. Right, Harry?"

She was trying to include him in the conversation. Harry tore his eyes away from him (They had wandered back to the Slytherin table on their own accord) and made an effort to look interested in Ron's appetite.

Dumbledore stood up at the head table. "Welcome to our new students and a hearty Welcome back to our old ones. And now - let the feast begin." He clicked his fingers over his head and food appeared at the tables.

"Whew!" said Ron. "At last!" Harry didn't think that he could eat without being sick. He looked at the head table to see the teachers calmly tucking into their food and talking quietly among themselves. Hagrid was drooping and mournful but apart from that they were all acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have Voldemort drop in for dinner. Dumbledore smiled as he said something to Professor McGonagall. Harry felt a sudden surge of anger. It's alright for him. He's the all powerful Albus Dumbledore. He knows what's going on. Couldn't he have given me some warning? Does he think that sending McGonagall to warn me was going to make me feel any better when I saw him? How much more of this does he think I can take?

"Hiya Harry!" Colin Creevy grinned at him apologetically from across the table. He was just the excuse that Harry was looking for to vent his anger. "Oh look," he said maliciously, "It's my long-lost-identical-twin-sister. How're you doing, Harriet?"

Colin went red. Hermione, Ron and Ginny looked at Harry in surprise. Harry felt a little ashamed of himself when he saw how down heartened Colin was. "Sorry Colin, that was uncalled for. I'm just a bit preoccupied that's all."

"No worries," said Colin brightly, all smiles again. "I was afraid I might have hurt your feelings."

"Well you didn't. Don't worry about it." Now shut up and leave me alone.

"You aren't eating anything," Hermione was peering at him with a concerned expression on her face which irritated Harry to no end.

"I'm not hungry that's all." Since when did you turn into my mother? Practising for when you become Mrs Ronald Weasley, are you?

"It might make you feel better," she persisted. "At least try to eat a little."

"I'm protesting against slave labour. I'm doing my bit to support spew." And if I eat anything I might just spew all over you.

Ron choked on his roast potatoes.

Hermione glared at them. "Humph!" she said. "Number one - it's S.P.E.W. and number two - it would be nice if you'd try and take care of yourself for once.

"Speaking of S.P.E.W. I think you lot really should chip in this year," she went on. Ron groaned and helped himself to more chicken.

"Honestly Hermione," he said impatiently. "When are you going to give up on that? House elves like being enslaved. You're fighting a losing battle."

"I don't expect you to understand. All they need is some incentive. But with the NEWTs coming up I won't be able to do much all by myself, that's where you come in," she said.

"The NEWTs aren't 'till next year," Ron protested.

"But we have to start preparing for them this year. And if you think I'm going to share my notes with you this year you're wrong. Besides, we won't be taking all the same subjects will we? I don't suppose either of you will be taking potions, will you?"

"That's about right," said Ron. "I've had enough of Snape to last me several lifetimes. You don't mean to say that you're going to continue."

Harry tuned the rest of their conversation out. He had more important things to worry about than Snape. He was getting angrier by the minute. Why were they always keeping secrets from him? Surely Dumbledore should have realised by now, especially after last years tragic events, that it was better that he be told the truth no matter how awful that truth was. If I had known about that prophesy, Sirius would be alive. If I had known that Voldemort could give me visions I never would have believed any of it. If I had known what was going on I would have trusted them and not gone rushing off to fix everything myself. If I had only known. If only I had known. If only...

He spent the rest of the feast with these thoughts going through his head.

After what seemed to be hours Dumbledore got up again to give out the start of term notices. Get on with it Harry thought, get on with it and tell me what's going on. Get rid of everyone and tell me something before I get someone killed, for a change.

The doors to the great hall slammed open interrupting Dumbledore , much as it had done in Harry's fourth year when the fake-Moody had burst it, and a cloaked and hooded figure entered. Harry shuddered. The new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher (he assumed that was who the figure was) reminded him of a Death Eater.

"

Sorry I'm late," it said in a low voice that was obviously female as it stalked up to the head table. It was a pleasant voice Harry thought. Clear and deep, it also had a faint lilt to it. "I took a wrong turn. That's the last time I ever take directions from a house elf."

She lowered her hood as she approached Dumbledore and Harry gasped along with Ron, Hermione and Ginny as they recognised the woman. Tall, slim, blond, ice-cold blue eyes. The last time Harry had seen her was two years ago when her most noticeable feature was that she held her nose up in the air as if she could smell something extremely nasty. Narcissa Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy's wife, Bellatrix Lestrange's sister. Sirius' cousin who had played such a vital part in the events leading up to his death.

As she shook hands with Dumbledore Harry was filled with a fury so intense that he felt he would burst with it. First him now her. If Dumbledore thought that he was just going to sit quietly like a good boy and wait patiently for his chance to have a word with him he was wrong. He was going to get up and show this Death Eater cow exactly what he thought of her.

In the split second that Harry had decided that he was going to demand an explanation there and then as to what she was doing there his eye met Narcissa's. They glittered and she ran her right finger in a straight line from her upper lip down to the base of her throat. Harry found to his horror that he couldn't speak. He couldn't open his mouth or make a single noise. He glared at her furiously. She smiled at him, a horrible, triumphant smile and then turned away.

"I present the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Mrs Narcissa Malfoy," Dumbledore was saying.

"Mother! " Draco Malfoy said very loudly, sounding completely scandalised. Harry turned to look in his direction to see that Malfoy didn't look very pleased to see his mother there at all. Several people snickered and Malfoy went pink.

Dumbledore smiled at Malfoy. "There is no need to look so disheartened Mr Malfoy," he said. "I only wish that I had been as lucky to have my mother teach me when I myself was a student here at Hogwarts. After all they say that the hand that rocks the cradle is the hand that rules the world.

"Quidditch tryouts will be held ..."

Harry gave Hermione a nudge which in his panic was a lot rougher than he intended to as she almost fell off her seat. She glared at him. "What was that for?"

He gestured desperately at his throat and mouth. Hermione looked at him with growing annoyance. "Harry, this is no time to be playing charades. I don't know what's the matter with you. Are you sure you aren't ill?"

Harry pointed to Narcissa Malfoy, then mimed someone casting a spell with a wand and then pointed at his throat again. "Oh!" said Hermione clearly shocked. "She's put a spell on you. Why didn't you say so before? Oh dear! Let's see now - "

Dumbledore had apparently dismissed the school as all around people were getting up and leaving the great hall. While Hermione tried to think what counter-curse to use Harry watched Malfoy rush up to his mother and start to talk to her frantically as they left the hall together. When she reached the door Mrs Malfoy turned, looked straight into Harry's eyes and this time drew her finger opposite to the path it had taken last time - from the base of her throat to her upper lip. She gave him a very small, almost imperceptible wink and was gone.

Harry found he could speak again. "She hexed me!" he burst out. "She just looked at me and I couldn't speak!"

"What?" spluttered Ron, who hadn't noticed. "Who does she think she is? She can't just waltz in here and start hexing people!"

"I think you'll find that she just did." said Harry furiously.

"Let's go," said Hermione quietly. "We can discuss this in the common room."

"Don't you have to take in the first years?" hissed Ginny. "No, you don't, the fifth year prefects do that." she answered herself. "We have to go and see Dumbledore, Harry."

"I'm not sure that I want to see him," Harry said as they started to leave the hall.

"Don't be silly," said Hermione briskly. "You've got to see him. I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for all this."

"Yeah, I know a perfectly logical explanation for all this," muttered Harry. "He's trying to kill me."

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"Why are you the new DADA teacher?" Draco griped the moment he had dragged his mother into the entrance hall and had her undivided attention.

"You don't look too happy about it, sweet. I would have thought you would be pleased for me," she replied undoing the clasp of her cloak.

"Mother!"

"Yes, sweet?"

"Why won't you give me a straight answer?"

Dumbledore came out into the entrance hall and hurried over to where they were standing just as she looked as if she were about to give Draco an explanation.

"Narcissa, you must come with me immediately. It is almost time for our interview," Dumbledore said.

Draco flushed with anger. Who did this Muggle-loving freak think he is, ordering his mother around? Especially when he, Draco, wanted - no, needed to talk to her.

Narcissa looked at Dumbledore with mild annoyance, "Weren't you going to do that before the feast?"

"Yes, we were, but you were late so we are going to do this now," Dumbledore said sternly.

Draco glowered at him behind his mother's back. Malfoys were always fashionably late. Did he expect her to show up before time so she could do his bidding like one of those worthless Weasleys?

"We are, are we?" she said in the soft tone that she used when she was displeased. The angrier his mother was, the softer her voice would get. Draco knew that when she started to whisper it was safer to run first and ask questions later.

"You will have plenty of time to acquaint young Mr Malfoy here with the situation after we have dealt with..." he trailed off and gave Narcissa a meaningful look.

She nodded, her forehead creased with the beginnings of a scowl. "Your office, I presume? Let me speak to my son for a minute and I shall be there directly."

Dumbledore inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement and then walked off towards his office.

Narcissa smiled at him contritely. "Sorry, sweet. This will have to wait for an hour or so."

Draco glared at her. "You can't just leave me here to go and talk to him! Why didn't you tell me before? I'm your son! Didn't you think that I deserved at least a warning of some sorts? What does Father have to say about this, or didn't you tell - "

"Draco! This is neither the time nor the place. I said I will get back to you, and I will, but for now you are just going to have to be patient."

Draco pressed his lips together very hard and looked sulky. He hated it when his mother snapped at him. She seldom did but the few times that she did put him in his place he had learned, by painful experience, that she usually meant business.

Her expression softened a little when she saw his face. She brushed a stray lock of hair behind his ear. "Just bear with me for a while longer, hmm?"

Draco nodded, still sulky. She looked for a minute as if she were going to hug him but then, (fortunately, or he would never live it down back in the serpents den) thought the better of it and settled for giving his shoulder a squeeze instead.

As she headed towards Dumbledore's office Crabbe and Goyle lumbered up to join him, followed closely by Arnez.

"That's your mother," he said staring after her.

"Yes," snapped Draco. "What of it?"

"She doesn't seem the type to - no, forget it."

Draco, who was used to his mother giving him his own way, was still annoyed and was bristling for a fight. "Doesn't seem the type to what, Arnez?"

Crabbe and Goyle, sensing Draco's mood, cracked their knuckles and glared at Arnez menacingly. He took a few steps back and held his palms flat out towards them in a placating manner.

"Doesn't seem the teacher type that's all, Malfoy. I thought that it was a requirement of the staff to be old or ugly or both." he said.

"Alright," said Draco, only slightly mollified. "I'll believe you this time, Arnez, but if you ever insult my mother - "

"Then you may give me the pasting I deserve," Arnez finished, smiling.

Draco narrowed his eyes. This boy was up to something. People were never so nice and understanding unless they wanted to use you. The only way he was going to find out what Arnez was playing at was going to be by playing along.

He didn't smile back at him, that would give the game away, but simply assumed a more relaxed position. "Come on then," he said with affected huffiness, "I suppose I should show you the Slytherin side of the castle properly."

"I'd like that," said Arnez and then he smiled again.

But none of Arnez' smiles ever reached his eyes.

***************

The Malfoy boy was up to something. The show of I-am-still-offended-but-I-still-want-to-be-your-friend hadn't fooled Tom a bit. He was trying to catch Tom off his guard hoping that he would let something slip. Tom knew this all very well as he played similar games himself.

But while Draco was an amateur at this Tom was an expert. He had fooled adults and his peers into believing that he was someone that he was not for years. Draco was not the most subtle of creatures. He went all stiff and awkward at crucial places. It was only a matter of time before Tom beat him at his own game.

The mother, on the other hand was a different story. Tom wasn't sure if she was the kind of person who could be taken in easily or not. She was swayed by her son, that was clear enough, but Tom did not have much of an idea how easily she would be swayed by him. He doubted very much that the wounded orphan act, which usually worked so well with mothers, would have much effect on her.

There was however the fact that there seemed to be a rift of some sort between her and Dumbledore. Neither of them had been pleased with the other and it showed. She seemed a little apprehensive of Dumbledore as well, when she had given in to him with so little fuss when she obviously didn't want to. Perhaps he could use this to his advantage.

He still wasn't sure about her though. Not sure at all.

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