Draco Veritas
Part Three of the Draco Trilogy
By Cassandra Claire
Draco Veritas Chapter One: Through Silver and Glass
***
It was December, and it was freezing cold in the Potions dungeon, but
Snape didn care. "Can anyone tell me what this is." he demanded,
holding up a transparent phial of steaming green liquid and surveying the
class critically. "Longbottom."
Neville, who had been trying in vain to warm his blue-tipped fingers over
his cauldron, looked horrified. "I don know, Professor."
"Did you not complete your reading last night, Longbottom. The
assignment was ten pages in the Lieber and Stoller book."
"I know, Professor, but my toad, Trevor, went missing, and I--"
"Ten points from Gryffindor!" barked Snape, who was in fine form. He
didn even look cold, Draco mused. Perhaps he mixed himself up a
Warming Potion before class.
Snape ink-black eyes darted over the students. "Potter.´ he inquired.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw Harry pale and look startled. Next
to him, Hermione went red. Every time she knew an answer and Harry
didn, Draco had the feeling that she might actually implode with the
effort of trying to will the knowledge in Harry direction.
It an Imperceptus Potion, Draco thought lazily at Harry. Makes you
invisible. Harry sat up straight. "An Imperceptus Potion," he said. "It
makes the drinker invisible." Snape looked disappointed. "And the
ingredients." he snapped. Mugwort, Draco thought. Crushed dragon bone,
powdered asp blood, tansy, peppermint... "Mugwort," said Harry.
"Crushed dragon bone, powdered asp blood, tansy, peppermint..."
And a pair of my very own boxer shorts, the ones with the little Snitches
on them, Draco added.
"And a pair of..." Harry began, and choked. His face went red and then
white as he succumbed to a prolonged coughing fit. Hermione gazed at
him in alarm. Draco looked innocently at his quill, twirling it in his
fingers.
"Yes, Potter." Snape eyebrows had shot up to his hairline. "A pair of
what."
Harry was still coughing. "Beetles." he suggested weakly.
Snape looked annoyed. "No, Potter," he said. "The sixth ingredient is not a
pair of beetles. However," he added, "five out of six is not disgraceful. I
will not take points from Gryffindor." He set the phial down on the desk
in front of him with a slight bang. "Now, does anyone wish to volunteer to
come up here and be made invisible." he demanded.
Draco looked over at Harry and grinned.
Never, and even Harry telepathic voice sounded annoyed, ever, help me
again.
Hey, Gryffindor didn lose any points.
No, but I think I lost ten years off my life. Oh, shut up, Malfoy. Go be
invisible or something. Then again, you probably drop dead if you had
to spend ten minutes without your own reflection.
Draco shrugged modestly, then realized that Hermione was looking from
him to Harry and back again. She bit her lip irritably and turned back to
her notebook as Ron was called up to the front of the class to be made
invisible. Ron looked suspiciously at the foaming green liquid, and drank
it with the air of someone about to be murdered.
The sound of rustling paper caught Draco attention. When he turned
sideways he saw that Hermione was holding up a note, folded so that only
he could read it. I TOLD YOU NOT TO TALK TO HARRY DURING CLASS!
Draco shrugged apologetically, but Hermione continued to glare at him
until Ron distracted the entire class by glowing violently purple for a
moment, and vanishing.
"That the best Weasley ever looked," said a silky voice at Draco
elbow. It was Blaise Zabini, looking at him from beneath her long dark
eyelashes.
"Just what I was going to say," Draco replied quite truthfully.
She laid two fingers on his sleeve and smiled up at him, her beautiful face
lighting up. Her eyes were huge and gray-green. "Aren you clever."
Draco smiled at her and sat back in his chair. He was vaguely conscious,
without actually looking at her, that Hermione had shot him a disgusted
look. He was used to this.
Ron had popped back into visibility -- "Worse luck," Draco muttered
towards Blaise, and she and Pansy Parkinson giggled - and was making his
way back to his desk, looking green. Hermione pulled him down into his
seat by the sleeve and patted his shoulder.
"And now we have another potion," said Snape. He indicated a stoppered
vial of red liquid on his desk. "This one is called Soporus, and it does
what..... Yes, Granger."
Hermione put her hand down. "If you drink it, it makes you remember
your dreams."
Snape did not even bother telling the class that this was correct. "Very
well." He cleared his throat. "Draco Malfoy, come up here."
Draco was surprised. The Potions Master rarely called on him for much of
anything, preferring to torment the Gryffindors and slower Slytherins. He
rose to his feet, however, and made his way up to the front of the room,
where he stood looking inquiringly at Snape.
Snape unstoppered the vial of scarlet liquid and handed it to Draco. It
looked like blood. "This will make me remember my dreams." Draco
asked, looking at Snape suspiciously.
"Just the most recent ones," Snape said. His expression was quite blank.
"Go on, then."
Draco gave him one last suspicious look, and drank the potion.
For a moment, nothing happened. Draco looked out at the class, who
stared back at him expectantly. Hermione had her head to the side,
looking curious, Ron looked as if he were hoping against hope that Draco
might explode, and Harry had one eyebrow raised. Blaise and Pansy were
staring with parted lips. Neville seemed sunk in gloomy ruminations
about his toad. Draco was about to turn to the Potions Master and
announce that nothing was happening when he noticed that the back wall
of the classroom seemed to be curling in on itself and rushing towards
him like a wave. Blackness hit him, and he fell into it as if he were
drowning.
The dream rose like a fever, washed over him, blinding him. It carried
him forward. Stone walls rose up around him and a floor of marble slid
beneath his feet. He was somewhere, and nowhere.
He raised his head and glanced around. It was as if he looked through a
pane of black glass. The world before him seemed smoky, distant, touched
with darkness, as if its light had been smothered under heavy cloth. He
looked around and saw that he was in a cylindrical stone room with
narrow ancient windows, as if he stood at the top of a tower. A long oak-
plank table ran across one wall. It was lined with bottles and silver phials
studded with what looked like costly gems. There were other items
scattered there: a key made of bones, a Hand of Glory, a wicked-looking
dagger. A tapestry covered most of one wall: it depicted a circle,
quartered by a cross, and in each quarter of the cross was a symbol Draco
could not decipher. Underneath ran a motto in Latin that Draco couldn’t
quite decipher, though he thought he recognized the word for “worthy”
or “honored.”
In the center of the room was a square table, carved out of onyx. At each
corner of the table was a golden disk. And next to the table stood two
men.
The one on the right was immediately familiar. Tall and pale-haired, with
narrow cold gray eyes, dressed in viridian robes, his black-gloved hands
clasped across his front. Lucius Malfoy, his father.
The other man was dressed in a black cloak. His hood was up, hiding his
face, although in its depths Draco imagined he could see the flicker of two
coal-like eyes. His right hand was bare, and Draco recognized it: the
ghastly white skin and red nails. Once that hand had crushed his own
until he screamed in agony. When he moved his left hand a dull sequin
seemed to glitter there, catching the light, and then another, and another.
He was wearing a scaled glove, like lizardskin, and in that hand he held
something that wriggled and twisted. A serpent.
"I do miss my Nagini," the Dark Lord said. "There are none more like her."
"No," said Lucius quietly. "Master...the matter I came to speak with you
about...it remains unresolved."
The Dark Lord let out a hissing breath. "The boy."
Lucius nodded. "The boy is unreliable, Master."
"It was your task, Lucius," said the Dark Lord, "too see that he was not."
"We lost ground this summer," said Lucius. "It was unavoidable,
considering the recent unpleasantness."
"Then regain that ground," said the Dark Lord tightly. "You have been in
contact. Not just to tell him you are alive."
"Yes. Almost constant contact. He is aware, although, of course, I have not
told him everything."
"Do whatever you have to do, Lucius. He is your responsibility." The Dark
Lord made a sudden movement, seizing the snake just below its head and
squeezing tightly. When he released it, it lay limp, apparently dead.
Lucius´ expression darkened as Voldemort lifted the limp snake and
dropped it into the cauldron. "You know what will happen if you do not
succeed with this."
"He is a child, and children are unreliable," said Lucius. "A security risk. I
told you that before when I did not want him involved."
There was a cold silence. Lucius paled slightly. At last the Dark Lord
spoke. "Do not presume you know what is best, Lucius," he said softly. "I
have taught you everything you know. But I have not taught you
everything I know."
Lucius licked his dry lips. "Yes, Master. Of course."
There was a flicker of movement and the snake head appeared at the lip
of the cauldron. It was not, apparently, dead after all. Voldemort held out
his gloved hand, and the snake crawled onto it, ringing his wrist like a
bracelet. "And has Wormtail sent word."
"He is still gathering the materials, Master," said Lucius, speaking
suddenly very quietly, so that Draco had to strain to hear, "He has not yet
returned from -"
But it was no use. The words vanished into nothingness, and the vision
followed. The room shut like a flower, the cauldron and the jeweled phials
and the two standing men whirling away from him on a current of
darkness, and Draco started upright, his heart racing and his eyes flying
open to fix on -
Snape face. The Potions Master was staring at him in consternation.
"Malfoy! What the matter with you."
The room slowly swam into focus. Draco realized that he must have reeled
backward into the wall. His shoulder hurt as if he had struck it hard, and
his eyes burned. He could see the entire class staring at him in shock.
Harry had half-risen to his feet and Hermione and Ron were pulling him
back into his chair. Hermione looked stricken with worry.
"Nothing." Draco pushed the professor hands away. "I fine."
"Did something happen." Snape pitched his voice low, so only Draco
could hear it. "Did you see something."
The serpent, the cauldron, the Dark Lord, the tower.
Draco shook his head. "No. I just got dizzy."
Snape eyes narrowed. "You saw nothing."
Too late, Draco realized that he should have made something up. I should
have said I dreamed I was a lemon floating in a giant gin and tonic.
Anything.
Silently, he shook his head. "No. Nothing."
"Very well." Draco could almost have sworn that Snape looked
disappointed. Worried, even. "Go back to your seat, Mister Malfoy."
"Another letter from Monique." Hermione said in a teasing voice,
reaching over the table towards Ron who was looking expectantly up at
the black owl perched on his left shoulder. Her name was Nefertiti and
she had been a gift from his parents when they had learned that he had
been made Head Boy.
(Pigwidgeon had gone to Ginny.) Now she pecked at his ear and dropped
a letter into his hands: it was printed on lavish gold-and-white stationary
and was heavily scented with jasmine.
"What can I say." Ron unrolled the paper and examined it with a grin.
"Monique just can get enough of me."
"Oh, you just stringing her along," said Ginny with a smile, reaching
past Ron to get at the pumpkin juice. "You not serious about her."
"There are some aspects of this relationship I'm very serious about," Ron
said gravely.
"And she's got quite a Wonderbra supporting those aspects," said
Hermione, with a sideways evil grin.
"I think she just after me for my money anyway," said Ron, who had set
himself to the task of turning the unfortunate Monique letter into a
paper Firebolt.
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Does she know there isn much." she
inquired. This was true. While the discovery of a cache of medieval
magical treasures underneath the Burrow had made the Daily Prophet, the
Weasleys had seen no profit from it, since the entire collection had been
spirited away by the Auror College for purposes of study and research.
Of the whole treasure hoard, the only things they'd managed to keep were
the Gryffindor Galleon that Ginny had given Harry for his birthday and a
few pewter trinkets. And if they had expected an enormous windfall from
Mr. Weasley appointment as Minister of Magic, they were disappointed
there as well: few Ministry officials made a great deal of money, and the
Minister was no exception, especially when he had seven children. The
Weasleys remained what they had been since Fred and George joke
shop had succeeded: pleasantly well off, but not by any means rich.
"Did you see this." Hermione interrupted. Her owl had just delivered that
day Daily Prophet, and her head was bent over it, her mouth turned
down in concern. "Inquiry into Lucius Malfoy death has been closed,"
she read out . "The Ministry has ruled the cause to have been suicide."
Ron looked disgusted. "It took the Ministry six months to figure out that
he topped himself. Geniuses."
Harry shook his head. "He didn kill himself. Sirius said so."
"So he summoned up something nasty," said Ron. "And it ate him. Maybe
he did it on purpose. Who knows. Me, I feel sorry for the something nasty.
Getting served a Malfoy for lunch would make anyone mad enough to
blow things up."
"Ron, be nice," admonished Hermione.
Ron looked staggered. "About Lucius Malfoy."
"Well, just - think how Draco must feel."
"Riiight," said Ron slowly. "Because he looks so upset."
Against her better judgement, Ginny looked over at the Slytherin table. As
always, the action at that table revolved around Draco; he was inevitably
its focal point. No longer flanked by Crabbe and Goyle (who had left
school after pulling only one O.W.L. each) he was bookended instead by
Dex Flint, the Slytherin Keeper, and Malcolm Baddock, a slender, dark-
haired boy who had replaced Goyle as a Chaser. He was leaning over
Blaise Zabini, his chin on her hair. On a ribbon around her throat glittered
an amulet in the shape of a silver snake, a gift from Draco. Her brilliant
red-gold hair spilled down over her shoulders.
It the red hair, Ginny remembered Draco telling her at Harry birthday
party, I can resist it.
Vaguely, Ginny heard Hermione say defensively, "Well, so, maybe he
hiding how unhappy he is."
Ron ignored her, and gently tugged at Ginny sleeve. "Don look over
there," he said. "It just upset you."
"I not upset." She dragged her eyes away from Draco and grabbed up
her fork. "I fine." She jabbed the fork blindly at the plate in front of
her, hardly able to see anything.
"Maybe that why he got like that in Potions class," Hermione added.
"No." Harry put his fork down. "I don think that was it."
At the mention of Potions, Ginny glanced instinctively over at the staff
table, but Snape was not there. Neither was Dumbledore. Her eyes fell
instead on her brother Charlie, who was engaged in a lively conversation
with Professor Lupin, using his fork to punctuate his remarks. The sight of
Charlie made her smile. She had been thrilled that he had accepted the
job as Care of Magical Creatures professor. As if he sensed her eyes on
him, he looked up and waved.
"Are you eating off my plate, Ginny." said a voice on her left. It was
Neville. Ginny looked down and realized that she had, in fact, been
jabbing her fork into Neville´ roast turkey, and not her own.
"Oh dear - I so sorry -" she spluttered.
"If you wanted some, you could have just asked," said Neville, looking
aggrieved.
"Not upset, eh." said Ron into her ear.
Ginny let her fork fall. "Don we have practice now." she said hopefully,
in Harry direction, too embarrassed to look at Neville, and suspecting,
irrationally, that somehow Draco was watching her from across the room.
Harry looked over at her and smiled. "Yeah, we do," he said, and Ginny
got to her feet, grabbing up her broom, thankful for any excuse to get
away. "I see you all down there," she said, and fled.
Harry, Ron and Hermione trooped down to where the rest of the team
waited at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch. Seamus, who had been
made a Chaser just that year, was already there, standing next to Ginny
and the third Chaser, Elizabeth Thomas, Dean younger sister. A little
ways away stood the Creevey brothers, who, Hermione suspected, had
been made Beaters primarily because they were brothers, and there was a
certain superstition regarding the luckiness of having siblings team up as
Beaters. They greeted Harry and the others with a cheerful waving of
broomsticks.
Hermione dropped back towards the stands, content to watch, her copy of
Quidditch Through the Ages on hand in case Harry needed it for
reference material. Not that he ever did. He had been nervous about being
made team captain, but he needn have been; he turned out to be as
good at strategizing as he was at flying. Hermione suspected he kept an
elaborate mental map of the Quidditch field in his head and referred to it
...
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