Descent into Darkness

Draco watched as Harry pointed his wand, "By the way Potter," he said, "love your boy, he tastes like strawberries".

Harry’s arm jolted and his curse went wide. "What – you… what are you trying to do? What do you want Malfoy?"

"All I ever wanted was a kind word, a warm bed and unlimited power." Draco said sweetly. He laughed and stood languidly studying Harry. "But IÂ’d settle for this," he intoned softly, "just this. Just you speechless with rage, unable to re-claim what was taken from you. What you let go."

Harry steadied his hand and re-aimed at Malfoy. "Where is he?" he snarled.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Potter, everyone you love dies. Let him go."

"No" said Harry with renewed conviction, "they donÂ’t die because of me, itÂ’s because everyone I love is prepared to die fighting against evil."

Draco eyes glinted but his voice remained even, "So thatÂ’s the plan is it? Step over the trench and walk slowly towards the enemy? If everyone who fought did so with the blind acceptance that they might die, the odds arenÂ’t stacked in your favour. I have no intention of dying for my cause."

"Maybe thatÂ’s because you have no intention of fighting for the right side. I donÂ’t understand you."

"No?" Draco laughed bitterly, "Oh come on, weÂ’re not so different. Wake up and smell the trust-fund Potter!"

"Yeah, well at least IÂ’m not gay!"

Infuriatingly, Draco smiled. "DonÂ’t knock it Â’til youÂ’ve tried it." he said wryly. "Most of my early life was spent in a cupboard too. Only I shared it with the remains of some poor Auror Dad had left there back in the good old days. The guy obviously wasnÂ’t important enough to warrant FatherÂ’s attention, heÂ’d just been forgotten about. It was a lesson for me. How long was it until you noticed your friend had escaped you? Weeks, no months? Call yourself a best friend? Ha!"

Harry spluttered indignantly, "But he – he never said… he – "

"He deceived you," interjected Draco smoothly, "the number of times youÂ’ve been let down itÂ’s a wonder that you still trust people at all. Well, the boy hasÂ… hidden depths." Draco paused and smiled wickedly, "IÂ’m so sorry, must have drifted off there for a moment".

Harry understood the implication and blushed furiously. Draco took the opportunity to continue, "Eventually Father took me out of the cupboard, providing I proved my worth. And I did, I was everything a miniature Malfoy should be; attentive, charming, full of anecdotes about how Father had dismembered the last Muggle to trespass on the grounds. Happy memories." He ended dryly.

HarryÂ’s voiced shook, "Why Ron?"

Draco gave no indication of hearing him but spoke softly, almost to himself, "Some are men of action, they achieve great things through brave deeds. I am far more subtle, my influence runs deeper, almost unconscious".

"Dark magic! ThatÂ’s all youÂ’ve got!"

"I whispered my way into his mind, my power ran deep within his blood, sweet but poisonous".

"Like venom?" Harry suggested sarcastically.

Draco looked up, as if suddenly remembering something. He frowned, "Yes. You know I was rather peeved you got the Parseltongue gig, most unfair. I worked so hard and you got all the glory".

"ThatÂ’s because IÂ’m good." Harry said defiantly.

"Harry, itÂ’s never as simple as that. If only it were. You came here to kill me tonight, as you would Voldemort".

Harry was astonished at the detached, matter-of-fact way Malfoy said this. He didnÂ’t look evil, Harry thought to himself; the usual aristocratic baring but heÂ’d dropped the affected air.

"No," Harry protested, "I came toÂ… forÂ…"

"To talk about the weather? For a game of Quodpot?" Draco raised his eyebrows, as if politely inquiring about cauldron thickness.

"But youÂ’re working for Voldemort!" exclaimed Harry, clinging to the last traces of conviction heÂ’d had when he set out.

As Draco blinked and stared back at him, doubt and uncertainty seeped through HarryÂ’s veins.

****

Seamus hopped from step to step, his breath misting in the cold night air, "Beat back those Bludgers boys, and chuck that Quaffle here," he sang softly. Despite being a lifelong Kenmare Kestrels fan, Seamus had to admit that Puddlemere United had a cracking anthem.

Mostly he tried not to think about Ginny. About how her eyes had lost all their sparkle, all life when he had sat quietly watching her as Harry and Hermione had constructed this masterplan.

Hermione had said that there was nothing she could do, that Ginny would have to come out of it in her own time, unless something happened to MalfoyÂ… and even then the traces of dark magic would always surround her. The alternative to not thinking about Ginny was thinking about what might be happening to Harry, which was also not worth contemplating. So instead, he sang Quidditch anthems long after his throat had become hoarse with cold.

Seamus spun round at the sound of muffled footsteps. He leaned out of the entrance to the dungeons and immediately wished he hadnÂ’t. The missing Slytherins were hurrying across the courtyard, dark cloaks flowing in their wake like storm clouds. Seamus held his wand in his shaking hand and wondered, what would Harry do? The answer came; capture a hippogriff and turn back time. Maybe not. Still, he stepped boldly out into the courtyard, illuminated by the softly glowing green night-lights. The Slytherins stopped in astonishment. Seamus quickly calculated his odds, fifteen of them, one of him, bugger. He counted again, partly to distract himself from the terrifying prospect of handling a mob of fifteen, no now there were sixteen Slytherins, armed with only an inflexible length of wood, not suited to Charms.

"Well," he chirped, mentally cursing his frozen vocal chords for reducing him to a hormonal choirboy. He coughed, "So," he tried again, this time managing to keep his voice reasonably manly, "WhatÂ’s going on?"

Mark Nott glared at him, "All on your own, Finnigan?" Seamus winced as Goyle cracked his knuckles ominously.

Seamus backed up against the archway, "JustÂ… um, out for a walk. And would you look at the time! IÂ’ll be off then."

One of the shorter figures pulled back their hood to reveal Millicent Bulstrode. "We havenÂ’t got time for this," she said tersely, "Leave the leprechaun, weÂ’ve got to get back."

The Slytherins turned away, as if suddenly disinterested and began to descend the dungeon steps. Seamus exhaled in relief, and then realised that Harry was still in the common room. He glumly accepted his role as the Cavalry and followed.

"What, him?" It was DracoÂ’s turn to be incredulous, "Come on, the guyÂ’s not even human! IÂ’m in no hurry to join Voldy and the family business."

"Then why all the dark magic?" Harry asked, new suspicions surfacing.

There was a long pause. Harry blinked, could it be that Draco Malfoy, Draco, "Wait until my Father hears about this" Malfoy actually looked awkward?! He seemed genuinely lost for words; his grey eyes moodily fixed on the wall behind HarryÂ’s head and not giving any indication of speaking again anytime soon. As the long pause developed into an embarrassing silence Harry began to loose sensation in his left leg. He shifted impatiently, "Well?"

Draco looked mutinous. "I suppose IÂ’m going to have to tell you, arenÂ’t I? If only to stop you inflicting any more damage to the décor," he added glancing pointedly at the scorch marks where HarryÂ’s curses had gone awry. "Sit", he said indicating the chairs around the fireplace. When Harry remained standing he snapped, "Look, I canÂ’t get my wand and youÂ’re the only pupil in the school who can successfully beat the Imperius curse without breaking a sweat!"

Harry sat resignedly and decided to save the, "getting more like Snape everyday" quip for a time when it would really irritate Malfoy.

Draco raked a long fingered hand through his silvery hair. "Where do I start?" he wondered.

Harry said irritably, "Well, weÂ’ve already had Draco: The Early Years and if thereÂ’s a second part to that IÂ’m going to go and order interval drinks".

"Alright Potter, IÂ’ll get there. The thing isÂ…" he trailed off, trying to put into words what had once been nothing more than desperate plans. "You remember that I said it wasnÂ’t just about good and evil? Well, thatÂ’s because, itÂ’s not. ItÂ’s about survival, and weÂ’re only going to win the war against the Dark Lord if we have superior magical force. Dark magic as you call itÂ… isnÂ’t." he ended abruptly.

"Okay" said Harry sounding extremely unconvinced and highly sceptical, "IÂ’m going to need a tad more information. About seventeen years more information until you can persuade me that what Voldemort used on my parents wasnÂ’t dark magic".

"It was used with evil intent. But the incantation itself, that was powerful magic. Dark magic, as you call it, is more advanced, more complicated and it can be corrupting, thatÂ’s why its viewed with so much suspicion". Draco swallowed hard and began to speak quickly and intently, fearing interruption would make the story impossible to complete. "When Cedric died I did what all the Slytherins did, I cheered. Because we figured it meant our families would be right back in the glory days they told us about in bedtime stories. Power would be restored. As the warÂ’s gone on I realised that it wasnÂ’t going to happen. That the stories were lies, my family never slaughtered Aurors with songs in their hearts. The truth was that everyday is a battle against going under, against being sent on a suicidal mission by a leader so crazy he probably thinks polyester is a stylish fabric. Against having our homes being repossessed by the mob from the Ministry and sent to Azkaban to go quietly mad. Against the real loonies who want to be the next You-Know-Who and consider knocking off a couple of the rival families who might get in their way."

Draco looked up and met HarryÂ’s eyes. They were stony and not sympathetic. Draco carried on regardless, "So all this is going on and IÂ’m having some doubts about my role in it until my Father kindly reminds me that should he die, I am bound to take his place by the Dark LordÂ’s side. And IÂ’m not really looking to die young. But somehow I discover that IÂ’m not the only one that feels like that. You remember Marcus Flint?"

Harry nodded, wondering what the former Quidditch captain had to do with anything.

Draco explained, "Well, his Father was killed by two Aurors at the beginning of last year. We werenÂ’t all that sympathetic, but then someone remembered what it really meant, that Marcus would take his place. And he has. I saw him in the Knockturn Tavern, months laterÂ…" Draco paused. "Some might say heÂ’s a right-wing, reactionary fanatic who had a horrible upbringing because his father beat him everyday with a broomstick," he smiled bitterly, "but it never did me any harm. Anyway, we decided we didnÂ’t want that to happen to us. So, in a time-honoured Slytherin tradition, we came up with a cunning plan."

"What did you do?" Harry was intrigued despite himself. The war had never been officially declared; the casualties were hard to quantify as Voldemort stealthily made alliances and plotted to remove key figures of the Wizard world. Here was a different perspective.

"We decided that the only way to fight evil was to learn it. Everyone knows about defence against the Dark Arts, and in our case it was a daily reality. So we has to do more. Learn about the curses and the charms and that coercive influence of evil. In the process weÂ’ve become more powerful wizards". This was said without a trace of the familiar arrogance, "But our fight is more arduous as it against the people who are supposed to protect us from harm, against our families. You have no idea what it is to disappoint your father."

"So," Harry said as Draco lapsed into silence, "itÂ’s about self-preservation. How very noble."

Draco stared at his feet, "Yes, I thought you might say something like that. But IÂ’d rather be cowardly and alive than dead and noble."

Harry tried to make sense of it all, in particular a new albeit grudging respect for Malfoy and his friends. In the past few minutes his perception of his narcissistic nemesis had changed almost entirely. Draco looked up sharply and shattered the silence, "Oh, trust me Potter. I can still be a conceited, manipulative charlatan most of the time."

HarryÂ’s eyes widened in surprise, "You can read my thoughts!" he exclaimed.

Draco laughed, "Not right now, but I can guess, itÂ’s written all over your face!"

"You git!" said Harry but he laughed too.

Suddenly a commotion in the corridor made them both jump up. The door burst open as Pansy Parkinson and several Slytherins fell in. "The door!" she gasped, "It was locked!"

Harry looked abashed, "Yeah sorry, that was me."

Draco had got to his feet and was staring past Harry at PansyÂ’s stricken face, "What is it, whatÂ’s happened?"

"Oh god Draco, itÂ’s terrible" she wailed before dissolving into sobs.

DracoÂ’s grey eyes widened, uncomprehending as she continued to cry noisily. The others refused to meet his gaze.

The crowd parted as Snape swept into the room. He gawked with evident surprise at Harry standing next to Draco in the Slytherin common room. DracoÂ’s prompting forced him to reanimate, "Professor, whatÂ’s happened? Can you tell me?"

Snape composed himself, "IÂ’m very sorry Mr Malfoy, your fatherÂ’s dead."

Harry swearing loudly and creatively broke the stunned inertia that followed. Snape stared with continued astonishment and some admiration.

Draco himself was oddly calm. He stood with assured, aristocratic command. "This is it," he intoned quietly. With steel eyes he regarded the assembled mass and said with finality, "this is where it begins."

To be continuedÂ…