Rating:
R
House:
The Dark Arts
Characters:
Harry Potter Lucius Malfoy
Genres:
Angst Slash
Era:
Multiple Eras
Spoilers:
Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets
Stats:
Published: 12/17/2002
Updated: 04/05/2003
Words: 37,761
Chapters: 10
Hits: 12,327

'If Thine Enemy...'

switchknife

Story Summary:
A botched 'Apparate!' lands Harry at the Malfoy estate. The resident Death Eater, of course, gets more than he bargained for. *Slash, Angst, Politics*

Chapter 09

Chapter Summary:
NOTE: This is an Interlude between the Lucius/Harry focused chapters. We now switch scenes back to the Ministry of Magic which, if you'll recall, is where Dumbledore sent Aurors Granger and Weasley to fetch backup in order to track Harry down. However, one of the Aurors reveals a dark secret... and proves that love may be blind after all. Even for a Watcher.
Posted:
03/26/2003
Hits:
778

{ If Thine Enemy... }

Interlude: Until the Watcher

'... until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by Time.'
- Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God


Cornelius Fudge was leading Dumbledore's two Aurors--two dogs, he thought maliciously--through the Ministry's corridors. Couldn't even sniff Potter out, the incompetent fools. And Dumbledore dares to criticize *me*. Granger was walking behind him, talking endlessly at her silent partner. Weasley's expression was aloof and inattentive--blue-grey eyes glazed and faraway. Can't say I blame him. Being bundled with that histrionic woman...

Said histrionic woman was rattling on mercilessly, voice agitated. 'He had to have apparated within range, since he hasn't Emerged yet... if he went east, he would have met the barrier of Diagon, so he couldn't have gone there...' Cornelius nearly snorted at her swot-like listing of locations within magical range. She'd be more useful in the Maps Room. But suddenly Weasley spoke--words whispered, barely fogging the cold air.

'Perhaps he will be free at last.'

Granger stumbled. Her hand shot out to grab Fudge by the arm. 'Wait', she hissed.

Weasley watched her impassively. 'I am resigning my position on this mission. There is no point to it anymore.'

But Granger's brown eyes had sharpened--were fixed intently on her tall partner. 'Pointless, Weasley? How? We have to track Potter. Orders are orders.'

'Orders...' Weasley's eyes seemed to unfocus. 'Orders...' His hand was pulling something gently out of his robe's pocket. Fudge startled, raising his wand.

And lowered it in disbelief a moment later. The object was... a scarf? Red and yellow stripes in thick wool, ending in simple tassels. One of the tassels was torn at the bottom. Cornelius frowned in puzzlement. A Gryffindor scarf.

Granger froze. Her face had darkened. 'That's Ha--... Potter's scarf. He was wearing it the night of the apparation. We'd split up to look for him... you said you'd look near Flourish, and I--' Sudden realization filled her eyes. 'But you found him, didn't you? You tracked down his signature! Kept his scarf when he apparated... Warded it so it wouldn't transfer with him. You could have stopped him!'

Fudge stood with his mouth agape. Granger's jaw was moving--striving to form words. Fudge was reminded incongruously of a cow chewing cud.

The red-haired Auror turned around to face them. His long brown robe billowed around him. Cornelius found he couldn't speak at the sight of Weasley's eyes. Empty--utterly empty. One hand still moving over Potter's scarf.

* * *



'You knew about it!?' Granger shouted. Her face was red with fury.

Weasley didn't seem concerned. He was unwrapping Potter's scarf from around his hand. 'I knew.'

'Then why--'

'Perhaps he should die,' Weasley said.

Granger's head snapped up in shock.

'Perhaps he should have died...' Weasley's voice was soft, almost loving. His fingers stroked Potter's scarf slowly... slowly, as if feeling out every twist in the fabric. Every thread that touched Potter's skin.

Granger stared at him a moment more, incredulous. Tears formed in her eyes. Her mouth opened as if to say something more--but nothing came. For a few long moments her breath puffed the air--fists clenched. Then something seemed to cave in her eyes. 'You do what you want, Weasley. You do just what you want. He could die now, and it's all your fault. Better alive in captivity than dead in freedom. You were a fool, Ron. You should have made him stay.' She paused, her voice shaking. 'No matter how much it cost you.' A peculiar flash of rage and pain flickered in her eyes at Weasley's silence. Not sparing a look for Fudge, she turned and left.

Cornelius wrinkled his nose as he stared at the red-haired Auror, whose face looked strangely content.

'Auror Ronald Weasley--you are hereby relinquished of both your Auror and your general Wizarding licences. Your case shall be filed as high treason, and your sentence may be death.' Fudge drew a breath. 'You have not only endangered the lives of the entire wizarding world, but that of the Muggle world as well. I do not know if it was madness or sabotage that was behind your actions--but that is of no concern of mine. You are to be remanded in the Ministry's custody until the date of your trial. Your trial will commence on...'

* * *


Someone was repeating those words to him again--a written declaration of charges this time, it seemed. How long had it been...? The cell was dank as he curled up in hunger. Rough stone was cold against his back. He felt hollowed out like a spoon.

All these words, words, words... but no food. Hunger making his head feel light... such pointless words. Ron turned towards the window.

It looked out into a garden--a bright jewel of light in the cell's grey wall. Through the white lace of frost, Ron saw a shocking green of grass--fresh, undaunted. Glittering amongst new-fallen snow. Such familiar green...

* * *


'Ron!' A voice called to him. He rolled his head--nose bloodied from his fall--skull pounding. His broom had crashed again. Young Malfoy playing tricks...?

A gentle hand cradled his head. Brushed away his hair. He blinked slowly, focusing. A pair of green eyes--fresh, undaunted as new winter grass--breath clean as winter air. Cheeks reddened from flying.

'Ron...'

The warm hand left his face, to be replaced by hot breath. Harry was leaning over him--listening to him exhale.

'His breathing's erratic. We can't move him if something's broken... 'Mione, call Madam Pomfrey. I'll stay here with him.'

*I'll stay here with him. I'll stay here with him.*

Ron's vision cleared. The green eyes were close now--so close--that they were all he could see. The air between their faces warmed. His breath caught and he saw a blush deepen the pink of those cheeks.

'I'm here. It's OK, Ron. I'm watching you.'

*He's* watching me? Him? Watching *me*? An incredulous smile tugged the corners of Ron's mouth.

But then warm arms were around him--breath heating his cold neck. A hand found his and clasped it. Ron stared up at the grey winter sky. Harry's body was curled up against his... warmth radiating through the cold, rough fiber of his cloak.

He blinked through wet snow on his lashes--and found that his arm had moved to encompass Harry, pressing him closer against his chest. Heat aching, breath stirring...

Snow falling on them both.

* * *



'Bind him. No need to be gentle.'

Ron was thrown against the wall, the force of it knocking the air out of him. Pain erupted in his right hand. He looked down to see it bleeding, skin scraped off on stone. The spell tightened around his wrists and ankles.

'Have anything to say before we call the jurors, Weasley?'

Ron sagged against the bonds. His eyes were fixed on the window again--at that distant patch of green.

'What're you staring at, Weasley? The wall?'

For a moment Ron's eyes flickered to the speaker. A short man in a Minister's robe. He looked familiar.

Ron looked back at the window.

A second voice whispered. 'He's mad, Sir. Keeps starin' at the wall like that--nothin' there. Belongs in St. Mungo's, he does.'

Nothing there? But the window...

Spell-bonds tightened around his right wrist, burning--more blood dripped on the floor. The short man laughed. 'Better get that hand seen to, Weasley. We wouldn't want to be charged with neglect of our prisoners.' He must have sneered, but Ron couldn't be bothered turning his head to look at him. The green in the window was so beautiful... so sharp and fresh he could taste it--glittering with frost and cutting like the edge of a knife. Tasting of freedom outside the pane's thin glass--of a child's lips wet with the cold tang of snow... A taste often dreamt of but never felt. Soft and vanishing. Ice and hope.

He heard a shuffle of steps, a voice dripping with hate. 'Perhaps you do belong in Mungo's, Weasley. Though I doubt you'll live to reach it--or even Azkaban. The jury's not likely to think much of you after what you've done. And looking the way you do... Half-starved, half-mad. Half-blind too, after weeks in this black hellhole.' Another stinging whip of the bonds on his wrist. 'If you weren't such a fucking traitor, Weasley, I might almost pity you.' There was a hollow creaking as the door to the cell swung open--and the man chuckled hoarsely one last time. 'See you in court.'

The door slammed loudly--echo vibrating through his bones. The spell-bonds didn't loosen. Ron flexed his right hand, feeling it burn. His wand hand. The hand a young boy had clasped, on a cold winter's day on a Quidditch field.

It's OK, Ron. I'm watching you.

I'm watching you.

***To Be Continued***




Notes: I hope this provides some much-needed psychological background to Ron's behavior in the first Interlude. 'For each man kills the thing he loves.' (Wilde.) Ron betrayed his vows as a Watcher when he deliberately let Harry escape--which Harry may never have done, if Dumbledore's Watchers had stayed loyal. It's hard to tell if it was love or hate or despair, or a strange mixture of all three, that made Ron act as he did. After all, Harry could have died as a result of Ron's actions. On the other hand, he was also set free of Dumbledore's tyranny. Ron wanted to both destroy and save the thing he couldn't have.

Recall what Snape said in the last Interlude... forever doomed to Watch, but not to touch...

Next chapter: Harry's lessons in the Dark Arts begin. Poor boy has no idea that Ronald Weasley has just sacrificed himself for him. Oh well. I suppose Ron would be happier if Harry wasn't made any more miserable. Hmm...

Harry seems to have a penchant for driving men mad. First Ron, now Lucius... both losing sense and sanity because of him. Unfortunately not all of us have such talents... *wistful sigh*

Be warned that it may be at least a week, if not more, before the next chapter is up. Reviews might help speed things up, as always... ;)

Please review if you want more!

~THANKS TO ALL THE GREAT REVIEWERS WHO URGED THIS CHAPTER ONTO THE NET! MAY ALL YOUR APPARATIONS LAND YOU IN HAPPY PLACES!!~

(The last chapter has just been updated with responses to older reviews, so do go back and read them if you're a reviewer. Further responses are below.)

Kenna: My guardian angel, my saving Light (er... Dark?). You ask all the right questions. Firstly, I'm glad you enjoyed Harry's defiance--I don't know where that glass of milk came from, considering my utter hatred for milk... but I needed something childlike enough to make Lucius' lusting truly sinful (don't ask--I have issues), as well as Harry's defiance truly remarkable. As for Harry's outburst... it *did* seem a bit overdue, didn't it? That's because I'm terrified of outbursts--don't quite know how to handle the dialogue when that happens. And I was *so* afraid I'd screw it up... but your comments bring ease to my heart! Thank you!

Now. The question of how I define Dark magic. Lucius will cover this with Harry in his first lesson, but I might as well explain it now... I interpret the concept of Dark as a concept of wild power--incredibly raw and natural, and deeply dangerous. It is *not* evil. That's because I don't believe in evil being intrinsic to things--I don't believe in the existence of an objective morality altogether. Morality is what you make of it. Power, on the other hand, is power. (By that I mean it requires no moral conduct in and of itself--although people like Dumbledore can pretend it does.)

I envision Dark as an exquisitely powerful flame. Like fire, it has mostly inherently destructive properties. However it *can* be put to a variety of uses. Sometimes constructive, sometimes not. In other words, Dark is just a tool--like Lucius said, magic is nothing by itself. Its use is what makes it powerful.

Now, in my AU, Dark is a magic more attuned with the natural world, and thus much harder to control. That is also the reason why only Dark Wizards have ever been able to speak Parseltongue-- it is a language natural to a species of animal. Very few people are Dark--and even fewer are Dark enough to speak the tongue of snakes. Remember what Lucius said in the sixth chapter? ('Stranger Than Fiction'). He said that the battle between Light and Dark was not between good and evil. It was merely about political power. (You might say--between two evils.)

Consider this scenario. Out of all Wizards, more than 95% are Light wizards. Very few are Dark--and these few possess a far more powerful form of magic. Not only this, but they don't believe in *hiding* it--from Muggles or Light wizards. Thus Light wizards feel insecure. They construct a system where Dark Wizards are completely excluded form normal society and correct political representation. They fear that if they allow the existence of Dark Wizards, they themselves will be robbed of power. The Ministry of Magic isn't a just and equal organization for representing wizards. It is, instead, a vanguard for the magic of Light. (That is, power not as deeply attuned to the natural world, and requiring a focus through physical objects like wands. Light is like a tamer version of Dark--although Dumbledore is an extremely powerful Light wizard.)

This inequality--and the Dark Wizards' obvious lust for power--results in a long and ancient war between those who possess Light magic, and those few who possess the dangerous Dark. Each side has its double agents (like Snape) to infiltrate the other. The goal of Dark is to live freely and take power where power is there to be taken. Light also seeks to survive by destroying Dark. Both sides commit atrocities, although the atrocities of Light are largely termed 'justice' in the name of Light (after all, the wizarding world is mostly Light). Dark also has fewer scruples, and seeks power instead of justice. Lucius is a classic example. He has no morality--and will hurt others if he thinks it will benefit him. Dumbledore does much the same--but Dumbledore believes it to be 'moral' in his case, and 'just'. The Ministry of Magic is a propaganda machine and the center for a vast network of Aurors and other 'Soldiers of Light'.

Once, a young wizard by the name of Tom Riddle Emerged in Hogwarts without the knowledge of Light. He escaped to form his own movement for Dark. Dumbledore failed to negotiate a peace with him. The boy became known as Lord Voldemort, the most powerful Dark Wizard of the time. And perhaps the most insane. Nevertheless, many Dark Wizards joined him because they hoped his power would overturn Light and that they, too, would be able to claim positions of power in the wizarding world. Some of these wizards were motivated by fear, some by rationality, some by idealism and others by ambition. (Lucius suffers from a peculiar mixture of the last three.)

Dumbledore learned his lesson--that even children were weapons for Dark, and that he would not make the same mistake again. Thus he engineered the entire life of the next great Dark Wizard, Harry Potter, in order to use him against his own kind as far as possible. Dark must not be allowed to prevail. Not even at the cost of sacrificing innocents.

Phew. This is far from the full explanation for my ideas on Dark--but there'll be more than enough Lucius-snarking to reveal the intricacies of Death Eater politics in the coming chapters. I hope this is enough for now! I'm sorry if I disappointed anyone by claiming that Dark is not intrinsically evil, just as Light is not intrinsically good. As I said, I am sceptical of awarding moral value to mere tools. Both Light and Dark Wizards can be kind and cruel in their own ways. Snape is a living example of such moral ambiguity. Both sides have their traitors and simpering cowards and heroes. Pettigrew is an example of someone who joined Voldemort because of fear and avarice, not idealism. A rat in every sense--with neither bravado nor intelligence to favor him. Snape joined but was disillusioned--and the fact that his Emergence was painful added to his reasons for joining Dumbledore instead. A Dark Wizard on the side of Light--yes, it happens.

Therefore, Kenna, my answer (until Lucius provides the details) would be: yes, Dark is potentially destructive AND too powerful. As to how defensive Darkness works... you will soon discover that 'defensive' Dark magic can be quite ruthless in and of itself. There will be more examples in later chapters, but you may recall the constrictus spell that nearly killed Harry in Chapter One. That was a Dark defensive spell--i.e., a ward to stop people from invading the master's territory. A rather offensive twist on defense, no?

PLEASE answer one question though, that I'm dying to know the answer to--what exactly is it you saw in that 'other undercurrent' to Lucius' rage? If you saw what I put in there, I believe I might have to propose marriage after all... :P

Fyrie: I just read your hilarious fic The Chronicles of Lucius in which Lucius writes a diary! (No--the word is Chronicle--much more macho.) Thank you *so* much for reviewing, and for finding my Lucius sexy. It really is a strange feeling to take complements to one of the characters as complements to oneself, but it feels that way... Thanks also for writing that deliciously funny story--had me coughing and spluttering and laughing for ages.

RavensHaelo: Good to see you back! I was worried you weren't reading the fic anymore... :)

Isabelle: Such a gratifying review! Thank you! That is exactly how I wanted to portray Harry--innocent yet disillusioned, defenseless yet powerful. What a perfect choice of words from you! No, you can never ramble in a review... especially one as perceptive as yours. :)

Gina: Thanks so much for continuing to read, and providing insight. Although I doubt mine is that good a Lucius/Harry fic... *blushes*--my favorite is Nimori's Je Te Plumerais, actually. If I get anywhere near that intensity, I'll be happy.

Hanaus: Yes, I think you'll find that Harry is going to surprise Lucius still more in the future... *snickers*

Mage Legacy: Finally, someone noticed my Irish Mist! Merlin, I did some research into banshees for that one... figured that, banshees being magical creatures, their songs/screams might leave a magical signature. Which could be extracted to create the peculiarly masochistic/aesthetic drink that Lucius likes... sharp and beautiful and painful at once. *shudders*

Nadeshiko: Ah, I love being called Slytherin! Unfortunately, I'm a mere Ravenclaw... That's right. No matter how many 'tests' I take online, I'm always sorted in to Ravenclaw. ALWAYS. Damn it. Er... anyway. Thanks so much for making me a Favorite! A rare and exquisite privilege! *blushes uncontrollably*

Runespoor: My dear, I completely sympathize with your disdain of idealists. (I myself am one--and hold myself in disdain for it. An unfortunate situation.) However I might remind you that 'calculating, manipulative, power-hungry bastards' (oh! my definition of beautiful!) can indeed still be idealists--that in fact these very bastards make the best and most effective idealists. The kind that aren't mindless fanatics--that let a supreme and cold rationality govern any otherwise irrational motivations. The kind that form a glorious contradiction within themselves, and are so rewardingly complex as characters. Idealism is not only the territory of simple-minded, righteous moralists. One can have villainous, dark, beautiful idealists--that teeter dangerously between aestheticism and sadism, between pain and beauty, between rage and truth. Lucius is one such. Please believe me when I say I do not intend to make him *nice*. I only intend to lend him deeper texture. It is my personal theory that no one has purely rational motivations--and that, in fact, the more seemingly rational a person, the deeper their irrationality runs. (Think of Edison fixing light bulbs for years--a genius, yes. Supremely rational in his work, yes. But in his motivations? Would anyone who *wasn't* an irrational idealist spend years devoted to what was widely understood as a hopeless pursuit? Fixing... er... light bulbs? But here we have it... Electricity. Scratch the surface of any rational genius and you will find an irrational idealist.)

Everyone else: Sorry if I couldn't respond to everyone! Will keep responding as time permits...