Chapter 6
Draco was watching the leaves move around his feet while the weather seemed to be intensifying in temperature with every passing day. A month into term and he was sure that Delores Umbridge possessed a grand total of zero functional neurons and was incapable of actually conjecturing or putting a sound theory together.
It was like seeing a stupid child trying to play God.
He opened his book again in the Unforgivable Section and started to read the batshit crazy idea stated by none other than Gilderoy Lockhard. For all the tales of grandeur the man seemed to harbour, his theory was as sound as the first words of a baby trying to explain the quantum realm.
He wasn’t sure what he should address his query to first, the board of directors or the Ministry itself. Such blatant desinformation shouldn’t be permitted in a school that was supposed to be training and teaching the Wizards of The Feature, as his Headmistress at Mahoutokoro liked to remind them.
Unforgivable Curses are the three most powerful and sinister spells known to the wizarding world, and are tools of the Dark Arts. They were first classified as "Unforgivable" in 1717. They are the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra, the Cruciatus Curse, Crucio, and the Imperius Curse, Imperio.
Draco took out his favourite padnote and started to write.
As studied previously by Martha Bagcoin there should be a fourth spell that should be added to the ever shrinking list of unforgivables, which were reclassified in 1717. Previous list terminated in 1406 gave a more extensive list of spells that should be considered as Unforgivables under the next pointers:
- Unforgivables bend the natural orders of things and nature.
In the case of the killing curse, the natural life line of a person ends suddenly, rendering the cycle of souls useless and diluting the line of magic in the Wizarding World as previously studied and proved by Chloe Murgas (The Final Compendium of the Soul Cycle, 1783).
The Cruciatus Curse bends the natural order and functioning of the nervous system of a wizard, being the most effective means of torture the wizarding world has ever seen. The extensive damage to the glial cells and motor cells is extensive, damaging in medium quantities and fatal in large doses. This was exposed as such in Revisions of Magic and the Brain (Thesis development by Mahoutokoro University Faculty, 1987).
The Imperius Curse bends the free-will of a wizard, altering the state of their body and their brain, by forcing the motor neurons into obeying, releasing an influx of glutamate in the blood as proved in the study Revisions of Magic and the Brain (Thesis development by Mahoutokoro University Faculty, 1987).
Originally the Imperius Curse wasn’t used to torture wizards. Helen Thickey-Ward wrote in her Journal of Mind Medicine the next: “The Imperius Curse could be used to exercise the body of a catatonic patient and drive the body into recovery. The benefits are extensive to these people, since the numbers (base and sequence) seem to show little pain while forcing the patient’s brain into a better function without the use of potions.” (Thickey, 1941).
It wasn’t until 1650 when French Wizards used the Imperius Curse to reborn their fields with the ‘blood of willing maids.’ The use of this spell as such was continued until 1717 when the B.O.D.Y. Association revised alongside the Ministry the implications the spell could cause over unsuspecting wizards and witches.
All of the above were revised and a suiting penalty was added with all of them.
-In 1866, Donna Carter protested for a fourth spell to be introduced in the shrinking list of Unforgivables. This spell was Dehvesehles Dahleitionan. The only spell known to Wizard Kind that can affect the soul by bounding it to this realm in particular, tethering the soul with dark magic.
-In 1873, Dmitry Zaharov protested against the Russian Ministry of Magic, thesis in hand with studies and numbers, he asked for “Svyazannyy” to be added to the list of Unforgivables.
-In 1892, Ryssa Befanos asked for the spell “Chrisá Óría" to be added to the list of Unforgivables. Her family was the one that regarded the tomb of the XXXX-Creature Breeder (name not included by safety.)
-In 1944 a British Wizard implemented Svyazannyy and Chrisa Oria together to achieve an abomination that only was managed once (In the middle age) by H.T. Foul. Unlike this Brittish someone, Foul wasn’t Dumbledore’s apprentice. Foul wasn’t touched by Grindelwald’s madness.
-In 1983 Dehriynenen a very old spell was cast by a Restricted Wizard in the body of a toddler. Another spell that should have been added to the list of Unforgivables. By writings of Raising The Dead by Alucard Hellsing, Dehriynen is the partial kill of two souls mended into one. The severed ends will never be restored.
His DADA book was rubbish. None of these points were covered there, even when he was sure all of this material was studied extensively in Mahoutokoro for year 3. And he spent half of his 3rd year sleeping in the Hospital.. Mahoutokoro were feeding them this, left, right and centre. Countercourses were part of the thing, even when he himself couldn’t cast most of them due to his down-hill illness. They could defend against ⅗ of those.
Most of his peers could.
But here at Hogwarts, people seemed to be ignorant of the other spells that should have made it to the Unforgivable list. And somehow, weren’t. Knowledge is the most powerful bargaining tool. Why weren’t they learning about them? How to cast countercourses…? How to plan and act in case one of those is thrown their way?
It made zero sense.
What was Dumbledore playing at? Obviously, the Ministry didn’t have this power over a teaching Institution. There was a Free-Cathedra law in place. The board was in charge of deciding what kind of things the youth are supposed to know.
And the piece of rubbish his uncle was forced to buy was… Baffling.
In his opinion it was a piece of shit. It was worse than rubbish.
“Hey, Draco,” the voice startled him out of his thoughts with a start. His body went rigid and he scrambled to hide the true contents of his parchment.
“Hey,” he greeted back, looking at Hermione Granger and her frizzy hair up in a bun.
“What are you doing here all alone?” she asked him, all soft voices and softer smiles.
Draco smiled.
“Thinking mostly,” he said softly, looking down.
“About?” she asked, eyeing the book in his lap. “Were you reading for the Unforgivables Essay?”
Draco sighed and looked down at his empty parchment.
“I…” he trailed off.
“It’s okay to ask for help if you need it,” she stated very softly. “Harry can help you…” she trailed off. “I could help you. Harry is better with practice, but I am better with theory.”
Draco laughed softly.
It sounded silly to his brain. No student shall cast those. Counterspells weren’t available for
“I think he might be expelled from school if he evers try to practise an unforgivable here,” Draco said, giggling at the absurdity. “Not even Harry wants to be expelled, Mione.”
Until he saw that Hermione wasn’t laughing with him.
“What?” he asked, his heart beating hard inside his chest.
She looked down and took a deep breath.
“Last year, our DADA professor encouraged us to use Unforgivables on each other,” she admitted softly, eyes shining with tears. “Our last professor hurt a lot of us and encouraged us to hurt ourselves.” She whipped her tears fastly with the hem of her sleeve. “That’s why no one really wants to talk about this particular piece of homework,” she said softly, eyes far-away from where they were sitting… “That’s why no one is happy to write this essay as homework.”
Draco was left speechless.
“I’m sorry about it,” That was what escaped from his mouth.
Hermione looked up, her dark eyes looking up at him with regret.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know you are new here. Boarding school and all that,” she stated softly. “It wasn’t my intention to… Scare you.”
Draco took her hands into his and held them there, trying to stop the shaking that was going through them.
“I’m sorry you were tortured even in your own school,” he said solemnly.
“I’m sorry the teachers in DADA always sucks in this school,” she offered as well, a small smile grazing her lips. “The post was cursed.”
That took Draco by surprise.
“By who?” he asked, looking down at the falling leaves.
“Voldemort in 1964,” she answered softly.
“Why?” Draco answered, feeling the hair of his neck raising at the name.
“Because Dumbledore didn’t let him teach it,” she answered softly.
Draco blinked the fear away and stayed with Hermione and her cold hands.
Eventually, he casted blue fire to warm her.
Draco hadn’t had a chance to go talk with the Sorting Hat, yet. The coursework at Hogwarts wasn’t harsh per se, but most of the professors seemed to be barmy and the lack of structure, and adults to consult with, were taking its toll on him. In his opinion, Madame Pince was the only person in Hogwarts that really knew what the fuck she was doing.
And the only one with an honest opinion.
Madame McGonagall seemed to be in a kind of war with her own heart, especially when it involved Harry. He has seen it first hand. Hagrid, the half-giant and soft professor he liked, seemed to be still stuck in his teen years, waiting around for things to fall in place. Professor Snape was his own brand of teenager if his way to bully Harry, Ron and Hermione was anything to go by. He inwardly asked himself if maybe Ron’s mother dejected him when they were younger.
Professor Sinistra was the only reprieve he was getting in classes. She was the only level-headed person that should be certified to run a classroom. He was currently sitting in front of the Great Lake, his head pillowed in Hermione’s lap, Harry at his side, Anthony Goldsteina and Parvati Patil somewhere close to his knee.
“Why are we in the middle of here when the winter is approaching this fast?” Anthony asked.
The Black Lake was his only source of comfort lately. The only body of water so far was this very lake. Luna told him mere people and a giant squid were in attendance and called the lake their home. But Draco was still to catch any of them come to the shore and say hi to him, or him to them.
Mere people are one of those amazing creatures that he was eager to meet and question to an inch of their lives.
“Because Care of Magical Creatures is good for our resumé,” Parvati said softly.
“Where’s Ron?” Harry asked for the nth time.
“Coming, Harry,” Hermione said, softly. Her hand was carding through his hair and he was relaxing under her hands. “Be patient. You know Ronald needs to, at least, eat for him and a horse until he is ready to study.”
Draco laughed and closed his eyes.
He was tired. A month and a half and he was feeling it. He was feeling the separation from his mother, the missing of his old friends and the fear… Hogwarts and his new classmates, Harry, seemed to be preparing for something he wasn’t privy to still. The air was changing and was charging with something he wasn’t sure how else to describe, except the words “Dark Magic,” seemed to fit perfectly for it all.
He shivered at the feeling of the tendrils of dark magic reaching out to him. It was residing inside the castle and most days, it kept reaching to touch him. He hasn’t allowed the contact yet, but he wasn’t sure how much he could hold his own mind in check until he was permitting the magic to interact with himself. With his body.
With his magic core.
The magic permeating the castle was cold as fuck and it chilled his bone. He was ready to sent everything to the fuck and beg to go back to Mahoutokoro, but he hasn’t feel this good in a long year. Close to the Black Lake, his strength seemed to come back to him. Close to the Black Lake, his body seemed to recover from the pulling the curse that was dragging his health down.
“At least, we are researching creatures this year,” Hermione said, looking at Harry and sharing a look between the two of them. “Researching before interacting with them.”
“What happened?” was the first thing that Draco asked.
He shivered again. The weather was changing fastly. Goosebumps were rising in his body by the second, until he was enveloped in warmth. The smell of Harry hit him straight in the face and he smiled.
“Ta,” he purred and buried his head in the denim jacket. It was warm and Harry’s magic was lingering on the fabric. It made his magic jump inside his core to then settle deep inside him. This was so, so much better than the expensive linens at Ravenclaw Tower.
“Sure,” Harry’s voice was sweet as treacle and it was intoxicating.
It was intoxicating for Draco.
“Our teacher had us meet deadly creatures before research,” Parvati said. “There were a lot of close calls with the students' well-being.”
“Last year was the worst year ever,” Anthony said again. “No one really understood what was going on. No one wanted to be here.”
“Why?” Draco asked, opening his eyes to look at his housemates and the lions around him.
“Because of me,” Harry said, his voice firm and sad.
Parvati shook his head.
“Not because of you, Harry,” she stated softly. “Because of the adults in Harry’s life.”
Hermione nodded over him.
“Some of them… Weren’t good.” She put it that way.
“They were awful,” Anthony condemned fastly. “They are awful and Reeta Skeeter should burn in the darkest pitch of hell.”
That was… New. Ravenclaws were always the logical ones, the ones that seemed to be always in control. Most of his housemates seemed to lack emotions.
“And she will,” Hermione stated so coldly that Draco acquired a new fear.
That’s the voice of a woman with a mission. He thought.
“But this year seems to be better,” Harry said hurriedly. “It is better.” Draco spied a blush creeping up Harry’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Hermione said, her hands playing with his hair and relaxing the muscles of his neck. Draco was loving Hermione’s soft carding. “It is shaping up to be better this year.”
Draco closed his eyes in satisfaction.
“Cheers, for all the things that are gonna be awfully normal this year,” Anthony Goldstein said and Draco heard the shriek of Hermione.
“Are you bonkers?” her shriek made him smile. “You can’t drink firewhiskey in the ground.”
Parvati laughed.
“What Dumbledore doesn’t know, will not harm him,” she defended their idiotic actions.
Draco was on their side.
“I really hope no one catches up,” Hermione swore under her breath.
Draco rubbed his hands on her forearms to help calm her nerves. At the distance, he heart steeps and relaxed further in the cold. Dried leaves were crouching under the weight of a few people. The softs tump-thump-thump of Luna’s heart made him acquire a new level of relaxation.
She was okay. That was good.
“Are you okay, mate?” Ron’s voice startled him.
Draco opened his eyes to stare inside a couple of blue eyes. His sister and Ron were looking down at him.
“Sure,” he mumbled, eyes too heavy to try and open. “Just sleepy.”
More rustles of leaves and a conversation going on around him. A conversation that had a lot of things with the discussion of Hogwarts ground rules and not too much with their research about merpeople or the giant squid, or whatever other creature living under the murky waters of their school lake.
He was warm and happy, the voice of his friends helping him fall into a dozing state.
“Dray,” Luna’s voice sounded so far away and he ignored it in order to catch a few minutes of sleep. “Are you lethargic?”
A cold finger against his neck made him groan.
“Luna,” he whimpered. “Just tired.”
“Have you been drinking your potions?” she asked him, voice panicking, hands gripping him tightly.
“Yes,” he managed to open his eyes just to feel Harry’s warm magic evaporating around him.
“You are pale,” Harry said a second later. “Paler than usual.”
“And cold,” Hermione stated, hand stilling on his hair.
“Derihyennen,” Draco said, eyes burning with unshed tears, heart beating fast and hard against his ribcage. Fear grasping his mind.
“Pappa Newt?” she asked him, her airy voice gaining something stealy-like and sharp.
Draco swallowed around the fear.
“Yes,” he croaked.
The dark magic was wrapping his core, freezing his peace and extinguishing the calm, the healthy sensation he had been feeling. His body paralyzed under Harry’s jacket, his eyes glazing and his skin itching.
“Are those scales?” Hermione’s voice broke over his panic.
And all hell breaks loose. His friends were shouting over each other what to do. What to do next. Magic or not. Their voices laced with fear, while he felt his blood going cold inside his veins, his skin itching and changing.
“Shut up!” someone screamed and then, it was silent. Except, there were screams of agony. Someone was being tortured to death. “Shut up! He needs help! He is injured.”
“It’s okay,” someone soothes him. “We are taking you to Madame Pomfrey.” another person said.
Harry’s arms wrapped around him.
In an effort to protect himself, Draco’s magic lashed out with all its might.
He screamed the pain burning through his body.
It feels as if the Cruciatus curse was being casted on him again.