Chapter 17
“Have you ever heard of a Horcrux?”
Harry and Hermione both shook their heads, glancing at each other in confusion.
Altaire nodded, her expression now serious. “No, I didn’t think so… Well, have you ever wondered how the Dark Lord has managed to stay alive for so long? Why he can’t be killed by the killing curse? How he managed to resurrect himself after all these years of being presumed dead?”
Harry scowled. “No, but I’m assuming you’re about to tell us.”
Altaire smirked without mirth, “The Dark Lord is thorough... intelligent… He knew that once he began to consolidate his power openly, it would only be a matter of time before people would come for him. So… he took some time to… ensure his safety. He managed to find a way to usurp human mortality.”
Hermione’s stomach twisted. This was bad… worse than anything she had imagined.
“How?” Harry asked, his face transfixed.
“It’s the ultimate Dark Magic. Very powerful… He managed to split his soul into pieces and hide it… Until those fragments of his soul are all destroyed, you can’t kill him. To try would be futile.”
Hermione felt like she might throw up as she let the information sink in. So, Voldemort was immortal, unbeatable…
“How do you know all this?” she croaked.
“My father once had a very close… friend… a Death Eater, just like him. He figured it out many years ago when the Dark Lord was still making the Horcruxes. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Dark Lord would come for him… and come for him he did.” Altaire’s lips twitched into a wry smile, her expression unreadable. “So, before he died, he entrusted this secret to my father, in the hopes that he might one day be able to accomplish what he could not succeed in doing.”
“And what would that be?” Harry asked brusquely.
“To destroy the Dark Lord once and for all, of course.”
Hermione and Harry exchanged an incredulous glance.
“You expect me to believe that your father has been on our side this whole time?” Harry snorted, letting out a sharp laugh.
Hermione felt her own brows raise in disbelief.
It was Malfoy’s arrogant voice that replied. “Side? Potter, this isn’t some school-yard beef or an inter-house quidditch match. Don’t act so naive. My father couldn’t care less about your blood-feud. His concern is purely for our family. Just the fact that he never turned his friend into the Dark Lord is enough to have all of us killed should the Dark Lord find out. He’s simply determined to destroy him first before it comes to that.”
Harry cleared his throat, his eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to wrap his head around Malfoy’s words.
“And who was this friend?” Hermione asked, finally finding her voice.
“That, I’m afraid, will have to wait until you learn how to occlude.” Altaire responded coolly.
“Fine. But you said that your father meant to put the diary in my cauldron. I still don’t get how that changes anything?”
“Well, the diary was a horcrux, of course.” She responded. “He was hoping that you might destroy it.”
“That’s a hell of a deduction to make.” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm but his eyes were wide with surprise.
“My father spent years trying to figure out how to destroy it. When it became clear that he was out of options, and the Dark Lord began to rise again, he became… desperate. It’s obvious to anyone with half a brain that you, Harry Potter, have some kind of bond with the Dark Lord that makes you very difficult to kill, just like the Dark Lord himself. He hoped that through your bond… you might figure out a way to defeat it, as you did. He didn’t leave you completely unattended either. He sent you our house-elf, didn’t he? He hoped that might be enough to guide you in the right direction.”
Harry scoffed, “Dobby? He hated your father. He was an abusive arsehole. He told me he was acting despite his orders. I freed him!”
Altaire’s expression darkened at Harry’s words.
“My father never laid a hand on Dobby.” She hissed. “He bought Dobby off of my aunt Bellatrix’ estate whilst she was in prison, shortly before he sent him to you. Dobby was known for being a mutinous house-elf, he was often punished by my aunt for even the slightest mistake. Our family never spoke one harsh word to him.”
As if by instinct, a sense of relief flooded Hermione’s body at the implication that Malfoy was not an abusive slave owner, or at least a bystander.
He’s not a complete monster.
Oh, shut up and focus Hermione.
She shook her head, chastising herself for whatever fanciful intrusion her brain had decided to latch on to.
“Why did Dobby say he was abused then?” Harry asked with blatant distrust.
Well, my father didn’t think you’d just trust anyone who came to you with information. He gave orders to Dobby to find you and help you as best he could. He also instructed him to act as though he was helping you in secret, against his master’s wishes lest you became suspicious of his motives. The whole smashing his head around the furniture? Well, that was all Dobby. He’s always had an affinity for the dramatics.” Both Altaire and Malfoy chuckled fondly. “Surely you didn’t really believe that some random house-elf who’d never even met you before was so taken by your bravery that he would betray his magically bound loyalty to our house in order to help you? Dobby never even said he was abused by the Malfoys, did he? He said his master was cruel, and Bellatrix often was… but Dobby is loyal to us. Everything he did was for our family, to help us destroy the horcrux.”
“But I freed him.” Harry muttered, still frowning, rubbing his scarred hand roughly to calm the overwhelming emotions rising in his chest.
“The moment my father brought him back to our estate, the first thing he did was gift him with clothes, as an apology for the troubles he suffered under my aunt. He was a free elf the moment he stepped foot through our door. Dobby is loyal to us by choice, and that kind of fidelity is stronger than any elf-magic compelled by subservience.” Altaire noted Harry’s unnerved expression, adding, “Don’t blame Dobby. He really took to you, you know. Wouldn’t stop crowing on about how noble and kind you were for weeks after he came back. Nearly had Draco here lose his mind with jealousy.” She giggled, ducking an irritated slap from Malfoy, “It was necessary that you be manipulated into finding a way to destroy the Horcrux. I’m sorry if you feel used, but it’s not like my father was the first to do it. Hell, you’ve been Dumbledore’s pet pawn since before you even knew what magic was, and you don’t seem to have many qualms about being under that fraud.” Altaire’s concluded with an unapologetic shrug.
Harry’s expression was a confounded mix between stupefaction and rage. “Don’t you dare speak about Professor Dumbledore like that.” He hissed.
Here he goes again.
Hermione fought the urge to eyes roll as she watched Harry about to soliloquise about Dumbledore’s godly purity of heart.
It wasn’t that she didn’t respect Dumbledore. She did. He was the greatest wizard in history, the wisest, perhaps, and the only reason Voldemort was holding back from openly unleashing his destruction on the rest of the world. Voldemort feared him, feared his power. Yet… Hermione couldn’t find it in herself to trust him, not fully. She’d never had the willpower to raise her suspicions with Harry, who idolised him like a father, but she’d be fooling herself if she said she truly believed Dumbledore had their best intentions at heart.
Ever since first year… he used Harry into voluntarily carrying out life-threatening missions against Voldemort by manipulating him with secrets. Only feeding him just enough information to guide him in the right directions, but never laying out all his cards. And Harry- well, an 11-year-old should never have been left to fend off a possessed Defence against the Dark Arts teacher by himself, in a maze that Dumbledore himself had overseen. If he truly were worried for his students’ safety, surely, he would have thought ahead to at least place a triggering alarm spell in one of the many tests his professors had come up with to alert him of intruders? Why had the stone been protected by traps that could be overcome by 11-year-olds armed only with Alohamoras and Lumoses anyways? It was almost as though it was Dumbledore’s intention that if pushed in the right direction, it would be Harry standing off against Quirrell, regardless of whatever harm he might have to endure in the process.
To Hermione, it had always felt off that Dumbledore was seemingly never present when the school needed him the most. He’d send help, like Fawkes in the Chamber of Secrets, or even encouraging Professor McGonagall to give Hermione a time-turner, a highly illegal magical artefact, as she later found out, but he himself was never there. Instead, it was always Harry, placed in the middle of all the action, the danger and the trauma of it all in the aftermath.
His influence in the Ministry was waning now, but even in fourth year, if he’d truly cared about Harry, he would have insisted on pulling Harry from having to compete, and Fudge would have surely relented. From what Harry had said, only Professor McGonagall had stood up for him.
Dumbledore was, indeed, great. But the nagging feeling in Hermione’s stomach repeated over and over in her head, he can’t be trusted. Anyone that powerful, and for so long… well that power had to come at a cost.
As if reading Hermione’s mind, Altaire scoffed, “Don’t tell me you actually believe that Dumbledore had nothing to do with what happened in second year.”
Harry froze mid his I-love-Dumbledore speech, his nails stalling over the now bloody back of his left hand.
“Do you really think anything goes on in this castle that Dumbledore doesn’t know about? Do you really think that my father could have smuggled in an incredibly dark artefact, dripping with the cursed magic of the Dark Lord himself, without Dumbledore giving him the go-ahead?”
Altaire smirked at Harry’s thunderstruck expression. “What-“
“There isn’t a thing that goes on in this castle that Dumbledore isn’t in the know about.” Malfoy said with an air of pompous disdain. “He’s had his hooks in my family since I can remember. My father’s… friend made the mistake of going to him for help when he first learned about the existence of Horcruxes. And now? Well, he didn’t survive that summer and my father was forced to take his place in doing the old bastard’s bidding lest he compromise our family’s secrets.”
“You’re saying Professor Dumbledore is blackmailing your father into an alliance?” Hermione asked, frowning in skepticism.
“The headmaster is willing to do whatever it takes to defeat the Dark Lord. How do you think he got his hooks in Snape? He’s sacrificed more than his fair share of lives for his greater good.” Malfoy’s eyes narrowed at Harry’s snort. “I wouldn’t laugh if I were you, Potter. After all, it was Dumbledore your parents trusted blindly to their deaths. He let your godfather rot in Azkaban all those years too if the rumours of Sirius Black’s innocence is to be believed.”
Harry rose from his seat, anger radiating from his body as he stalked towards Malfoy.
“Voldemort killed my parents, not Professor Dumbledore. And the Ministry put Sirius in Azkaban, not Professor Dumbledore. You’ll say just about anything to turn me against him won’t you?”
“Harry-“ Hermione started, rushing to his side lest he jump the blonde wizard in his rage.
“No Hermione, Malfoy’s full of shit. Can’t you see this is just another Slytherin manipulation tactic to try and turn us against each other? Don’t trust Dumbledore? And what’s next? It’s Voldemort who’s actually got my best interest at heart?” Harry’s voice rang around the silent greenhouse, rising with each syllable he spat out.
Malfoy smirked from his seat, looking unabashedly unbothered. “I swore an unbreakable vow just now Potter. I’d be choking on my own blood about three minutes ago if I were lying to you to dismantle Order business.”
Harry stood still fuming, glaring back at her to agree with him, but Hermione could only hang her head, biting her lips as a wave of confused thoughts enveloped her.
She didn’t want to believe Malfoy. What he was saying… it was… diabolical… insane. Professor Dumbledore was supposed to be the unimpeachable light that she could rely on…. Follow. The clear light against the Dark. But he was right. He’d sworn an unbreakable vow. And everything Malfoy had divulged… answered the doubts she’d always fostered in the back of her mind about the enigmatic Headmaster and his unsettling inaction throughout the years.
“I – I think Malfoy’s got a point, Harry.” She finally replied weakly, not daring to meet her best friend’s burning gaze. “Dumbledore- well, he’s never been completely honest with us has he? He never told you about Sirius until he escaped Azkaban… and even then… well he wasn’t exactly standing up for him when he was supposed to get the Dementor’s Kiss… He must have known Sirius was innocent. He said it himself; he visited your parents and borrowed your dad’s invisibility cloak the day before your parents were murdered. If Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper… he must have known…”
Harry throat made a strangled noise as he staggered back into Hermione, his eyes wildly flitting from her to Malfoy, a look of pure panic overtaking him.
“No- no that’s not possible-“
“Well as much as I’d love to stay and watch Potter having his mental breakdown, it’s getting late, and I’d rather not be caught by Umbridge consorting with the likes of you.” Malfoy drawled, steadily rising from his seat with an arrogant flick of his wrists. “Come, Teri, I’ll walk you back.”
Altaire took her brother’s arm with a smile, smoothing her skirt over her knees as she stood. “It was a true pleasure to finally meet you, Harry Potter. And thanks, Hermione, for organising.”
Hermione managed to nod dumbly at the girl but Harry was still rooted to his spot, completely lost in his own world as he repeatedly muttered under his breath, “That’s not possible…”
As the siblings swished past them, Altaire whispered something to Malfoy, causing him to pause and look back with a displeased look.
“Oh, Granger. First lesson in Occlumency tomorrow at 9. Meet me at our usual spot.”
“Our usual spot?” Hermione repeated blankly.
“At the bottom of the dungeons’ staircase.” Malfoy responded matter-of-factly. “Where we start our patrols?”
“Oh- uh yeah see you there-“ Hermione began to reply, but Malfoy had already exited the greenhouse, the clip of his dragon-hide boots fading away swiftly and leaving Harry and Hermione to digest their world crumbling down in mutual silence.