Chapter 4
It was still dark when Hermione and Chepi emerged from the fire at the reservation. They were met by Chepi’s mother, who greeted them both with equally enthusiastic hugs and kisses. Genessee Cheesateamuck was an exquisitely beautiful woman, tall and statuesque with hair flowing down past her waist, and an ever present smile. Hermione had only met her a handful of times, but she felt as close to her as she did to Mrs. Weasley and Mrs. Potter. She was wearing ceremonial regalia, as were the rest of the elders. She led the girls to a bench and told them to sit. She walked over to the fire and waited for the voices of the gathered crowd to quiet before she launched into a story. Genessee was renowned across the tribes for her storytelling abilities. When she speaks, pictures appear in the minds of those listening, making them feel as though they are in the story. Hermione always wondered how she did this. Maybe there was some spell Hermione hadn’t heard of that allowed her to do this. She’d have to ask her later.
“Many moons ago, the lives of our people were changed forever when a group of white men with no magic came to our shores. They brought with them thousands of people with no respect for our land or our ways. They brought death and destruction to our villages and our people. We did not understand how this could be. We knew there were those among the European magical community who knew of us and who had come to learn from us in the past. We could not understand why they did not come to our aid. We could not understand how they could turn their backs on the old ways. We did not know that they had erased all traces of us and our former friendships from their histories. We hoped that they would bring magical people with them who would remember the old ways and teach their brothers about us. We believed that the magical white men would remember their history and the old teachings they had learned from us. But we were foolish. We did not know that long ago, anyone who spoke of us or of the ancient ways had been killed. The Europeans turned their back on the old ways and tried to forge their own path, blinded by their bigotry and hatred. Salazar Slytherin made it his life’s mission to eradicate the truths he had learned at our feet. He burned books, bribed, and killed to remove this information from the public mind, and his gambit worked. Soon the people of Europe began to believe that people with magic and people without are different and should be separate. They began to believe that those with pure blood were better, stronger. And so began the decline of their people. They could not see that their ways were actually perverting their magic, making it weaker.”
Wait a minute, thought Hermione. This was not the story she was expecting. She had never heard any of this before. Perverted magic? Perverted how? But she did not have time to dissect these thoughts because the story continued.
“Eventually these witches and wizards were forced to rely on wands to channel their magic and were unable to perform magic reliably without them. They did not see it this way of course. They believe that their wands make them stronger, their spells more potent.” There was collective chuckling at this from everyone, including Chepi. Did she know all of this already? Why hadn’t she told Hermione? “We tried to tell them this was not the natural order of things, but they would not heed our words. They continued to interbreed and tie themselves to their pieces of wood, and a sickness has been allowed to fester among them, infecting the minds of many. And now we have Seen that this man who dares to call himself Lord is seeking the very wand that started it all. This abomination cannot be allowed to gain the twisted power of the Death Stick. We must do everything in our power to help destroy this evil and restore balance to the world. For centuries we have remained in our reservations, angry at our magical brothers and sisters for abandoning us in our hour of need. But now is not the time for anger. I know many of you still feel as though none of them are worthy of these things, that they should be left to the consequences of their ancestors’ actions. But this threat is greater than our righteous anger, and those suffering are not those who hurt us. They are innocents who need our help, our wisdom, and our magic.
“I have looked into the future, and I can tell you that the only hope for our people, the only hope for the world, is Hermione Granger. A child born of two worlds, with the blood of two of the noblest magical houses flowing through her veins. A child thrice blessed in her magical awakening with magic unknown. Her capacity to bring light in spite of the darkness will be instrumental in bringing down this great evil. But she needs the knowledge and wisdom that only we are in a position to give her. So join us in welcoming her as we begin this journey together!” The crowd cheered as Hermione sat staring with her mouth hanging open, completely confused and bewildered by this turn of events, as the sun rose above the mountains directly in front of her, casting out the darkness with its warm light.
A little while later, Hermione still sat staring into space, trying to process all of the things she had heard. Genessee came and sat next to her, offering her a cup of coffee which she took distractedly and held without drinking. They sat in silence for a few more moments before Genessee said “Come, dear. Follow me.” Hermione followed in a daze. They walked down a path into the woods for a few minutes before coming to a clearing which contained the Cheesateamuck’s small wooden cottage. They went inside and Hermione sat at the table, mind still racing. Finally she looked up at Chepi’s mother with a fire in her eyes.
“Explain. Now.” And then, feeling bad about being so forceful, added “Please.”
The older woman took a breath and let it out slowly before answering. “I suppose we should start at the beginning, but which beginning? Yours? Or the beginning of everything? Which would you prefer, dear?” Hermione was taken aback by this question.
“Uh. Um. I. I’m not sure. I guess my beginning. Yes, mine. What do you mean, my beginning?” Hermione’s head was reeling. Just then, Chepi burst into the cottage like a tornado.
“Wait, mom! You can’t tell her without me! You have to tell me everything, too. There is NO way you’re leaving me out of this. She’s my best friend and I demand to know what the hell that all was and what the hell you’re talking about. And if Hermione has some divine destiny and some crazy shit she has to go do, I’m going with her whether you like it or not!” She stood there for a moment panting as her mother simply stared at her with one eyebrow raised.
“Are you quite finished? Alright, as I was saying.” And she turned back to Hermione with an exasperated but amused look on her face. “Do you know how muggleborn witches and wizards come into their power?” Hermione and Chepi looked at one another and it was in that moment that Hermione knew her friend was every bit as confused as she was.
“No, ma’am. No one knows. It seems to be completely random. I’ve read every book I could get my hands on regarding this topic, and they all said the same thing.”
“Ah, yes. I know how fond you are of your books. But I am here to tell you that while your people have striven to erase all knowledge of these things, our people have not forgotten. In short, all humans are capable of magic under the right conditions. There was once a time when all humans wielded magic as easily as breathing. The divisions we see today are the result of prejudices that were allowed to grow to an unhealthy level. It is very similar to how non-magical people view race. All humans are humans regardless of the color of their skin, but still people create divisions where there are none. It was the same with magic. There were different skills and different skill levels, and people began to believe that their way of being was better than others, and so the divisions grew. But I am getting away from the point,” she said with a laugh. “My apologies. All of that was many thousands of years ago.
“These so-called ‘muggleborns’ or 'No-Maj borns’ are simply people who have had the latent magic in their blood activated. There are three ways we know of for this can happen. First is when a ‘non magical’ person has strong magical blood from both sides of their family. You fit this category and so were always destined to be a witch. On your father’s side you are descended from one of the founders of Hogwarts School itself. Before you ask, I am not privy to the exact details. But I believe that it was one of the females. On your mother’s side, your magical ancestry comes from Africa. Professor Picquery told me that your great grandfather was a powerful wizard from a very powerful clan. He was serving as an ambassador and was in England to meet with members of the Ministry of Magic. While there, he decided to take a tour of muggle London. Apparently he became enamored of a muggle woman and they had a whirlwind affair. He left to go home to Africa with no idea he’d left her with a souvenir of their time together.”
Hermione was confused again. “But that doesn’t make any sense. My grandmother wasn’t a witch. If her father was a wizard, shouldn’t she have had magic?”
“Usually, yes. However, she was visited by a man named Dumbledore when the baby was very small. He explained to her about the baby’s father and that she would grow up to be a witch. He also told her that there is a spell to remove the baby’s magic so that she could live a normal life.”
Hermione covered her mouth with her hands and gasped. “No. They didn’t! They couldn’t! That’s not even possible. I’ve re-”
“Yes, I’m sure you’ve read a book on the topic, but I must tell you that on this topic, your books are all lying to you.” Hermione’s face was crestfallen. Her books had never failed her before. “They did, in fact, perform the spell which bound your grandmother’s magic. So now you know how you received your first magical blessing. But I spoke of two others. Would you like to hear them?”
“Yes! And… no. It’s all so much. Is it alright if we take a break?”
“Of course, darling. Let’s get you over to the school so you can begin the tour and see where you will be studying while you’re here.” This cheered Hermione up immensely. “Chepi, will you please escort her? I have something to attend to. I’ll be along shortly.”
“Sure thing.” Chepi said as she dragged Hermione out of the house and down a different path than the one they had taken to get there. She linked their arms and layed her head on Hermione’s shoulder as they walked. “Ugh. I’m so sorry about all of that. I can’t believe she just blindsided you like that.”
Hermione pulled away and stopped walking. She looked Chepi in the eyes as she asked, “Did you know?”
Chepi looked confused. “Did I know what? Oh, you mean all that stuff my mom said about you? No way. That was nuts. I have no idea what she’s even talking about.”
“No. Not the stuff about me. I could tell you were just as thrown as I was about that. I’m talking about all the other stuff, about our magic being messed up and not as strong as yours. Did you know all of that?”
Chepi shrugged sheepishly. “Well, yeah, I knew some. I’ve been going to school with you guys for six years. It was kind of hard for me to ignore the fact that the spells you all were casting were not as strong as what I see here. Plus, my parents told me when I started here that my magic was stronger than what you guys were used to seeing, and that I should… Ya know… dumb it down a little.” She cringed as she said this.
Hermione stared at her open mouthed. “So the only reason I’m head of the class and not you is because you are dumbing yourself down?!” she all but shouted, her voice raising in pitch until she squeaks at the end.
“Oh, goodness no! No, Hermione. You are definitely the smartest girl in school. I didn’t mean I’m dumbing myself down, just my magic. I pretend to have trouble casting spells that are actually super easy, or I’ll cast it wrong on purpose. But when it comes to the actual schoolwork, trust me, that’s the real me. I’m really sorry I never told you any of this. It’s just, well, they asked me not to.” Her dark brown eyes were sad and her forehead creased with worry.
Hermione took a minute to digest this. “Ugh, stop giving me the puppy dog face. I forgive you. This time. But if I ever find out you kept something like this from me again, you’re dead to me.” She tried to scowl, but she cou;dn’t hold it, and a smirk broke through.
“Ooh, scary! Remind me never to make you angry. You’re downright terrifying,” Chepi said with a twinkle in her eye. “There it is.”
The Wawanolet Magic School was the largest Native American magic school in the country. The school and the reservation both took their name from the man the European settlers called Greylock; the same man for whom Mount Greylock was named. Wawanolet, or Wawanotewat as he was also known, was a renowned warrior of the Waranoak tribe. During the 1700s, he and his band of witches and wizards had been very successful in harassing colonists without ever being caught. One of his favorite hideouts happened to be near Ilvermorny, and over the years he developed a close friendship with Harold Abbott, the man who was headmaster at the time. When the other tribes were eventually forced to move west, Harold and his fellow teachers helped Wawanolet set up wards to create a protected reservation that was completely unknown to both the magical and non-magical US governments. The members of the tribe decided to name the reservation and its school after the leader who had done so much for them.
Although each reservation had their own magic school for basic magic, Wawanolet was renowned for their excellent teachers and rigorous coursework. Those who wished to pursue serious study in a topic most often came to Wawanolet to do so. It was designed to resemble an Algonquin longhouse, but on a massive scale. It was three stories high and almost as long as a football field.
“Wow!” said Hermione sincerely as she took it all in. She’d never seen anything like it. In a normal longhouse, there are benches along the walls with an open area going down the length of the house, and a fire pit in the middle. In the school, there are rooms lining both sides all the way down, with a massive hallway reaching from one end of the building to the other that is 80 feet wide and extends all the way to the ceiling three stories above. In the middle is a massive circular fire pit that is surrounded by benches and tables where students eat and socialize. School is in session today, and so there are many people wandering the hall and they all turned to stare at Hermione as she passed. She heard whispering as she passed by, but couldn’t understand what they’re saying since none of them were speaking English.
“Hey, fart brains! Don’t you all need to be, oh I don’t know, GOING TO CLASS?” Chepi yelled at the top of her lungs. The kids standing around whispering practically stampede in their effort to get away from the angry girl. Chepi was daintily built at just over five feet, but she had a huge personality and an even bigger temper. When she was angry, she might as well be ten feet tall. She scoffed. “Nincompoops. Come on, I’ll take you to Mom’s office and we can wait for her there.”
It turned out that Genessee’s office was on the third floor and on the other end of the building, so Hermione was able to see almost the entire school. Longhouses did not have windows, but thanks to magic, the room was brightly lit and a comfortable temperature, despite the growing warmth of the day. The girls had laid down on the soft fur rugs in the corner and were gossiping about boys- Chepi and Harry had gone on a few dates last year, but they hadn’t spoken in months, and Chepi didn’t know where they stood- when Genessee swept into the room.
“There you both are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” She had changed out of her ceremonial clothes and was now wearing jeans, a Ramones T-Shirt, and combat boots. “Alright, dear. Do you have any questions about what we’ve discussed so far?”
“Um, well, the thing I’m most confused about is what you meant about perverted magic and our magic being weaker. Can you explain that to me?”
“Of course dear. But before we begin that conversation, I suggest we finish the one we are in the middle of. We’ve discussed how there are three ways a muggle child can become a witch or wizard. First, as you know, is heritage. The second way is through a traumatic event. Extreme fear or danger can cause magic to manifest itself in muggle children. Do you know the story of the day you came to America?”
“Just that we were brought here by Sirius Black and Remus Lupin because muggleborn children were being slaughtered in England. Why do you ask?”
“Ah. It is as I feared. They have kept a piece of the story from you. Before they could activate the portkey, they were attacked by two death eaters. One of them shot a spell at you, but you absorbed their magic and the magic of your saviors and used it to blast the bad men back before they could harm you. And so you were twice blessed in magic, something that is not seen often these days.”
“Hold up. I have a question.” Interrupted Chepi. “How the frick do you know all of this? It’s not like you were there. What gives?”
Chepi’s mother rubbed her temples as if to soothe a headache. “Chepi, how many times have I asked you to stop using that awful American slang?”
“Not enough apparently,” she said with a not-so-innocent smile. “Stop avoiding the question. How do you know all of this?”
Genessee turned back to Hermione answered, “some parts I have seen through divination, and other parts, well, I may have leveraged one of the Puckwudgie who was on night patrol at Ilvermorny.”
“Hold up.” Chepi said again, purposely ignoring the glare her mother shot her. “How on Earth did you leverage a Puckwudgie? Lucy… you got some ‘splainin ta do!” She said in her best Ricky Ricardo voice while wagging her finger at her mother.
“I knew allowing your father to bring that muggle box into the house was a bad idea.” She buried her face in her palms, rubbed her face, and then raked her fingers through her long hair, tying it in a loose bun with a scrunchie Chepi had left on her desk weeks ago. “Look, all you need to know is that I have my ways, and I assure you the information is true. How I managed to obtain it is none of your business.”
“But! Come on Mom! You can’t just drop something like that on me and then not tell me how you did it! That’s just… cruel and unusual punishment!”
“Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s really nothing that exciting or interesting, and it’s none of your business in any case. Now, shall we return this conversation to Hermione where it rightly belongs?” She fixed her daughter with a glare that could freeze boiling water, and Chepi dipped her chin in acknowledgement. “All right then. Where were we?”
“You were telling me how I was attacked before I left England.”
“Ah, yes. As I was saying, the fear and trauma you experienced that day caused your magic to surge to a level not seen in recent memory. An event like that is extremely unusual. Apparently the men who brought you here were so shocked by what had happened, they confided in Dumbledore, the man who took away your grandmother’s power, who happens to be one of the most powerful and influential men in England. He is also one of the leaders of the rebel group known as The Order of the Phoenix. Now, this is the part that I was shown through divination. I would bet there is no written record of this anywhere, since the spell is all but forgotten, and even if it weren’t, it would be illegal. This man, Dumbledore, came to your house when you were still a baby and performed the spell to awaken magic on you while your parents were out of the room. This caused a surge in your magic so strong that it knocked out the power, both magical and electrical, for miles around. I have not been able to Divine this man’s exact motives for doing this, but I can make an educated guess.
“The Order is losing the war. It is not common knowledge yet. Things are still very much in limbo, but if things continue the way they have, the war will be lost in the next five years, and then that monster’s evil will spread to the rest of the planet. I believe this man Dumbledore can see this as clearly as I do, and chose to enact some sort of contingency plan. A plan that clearly involves you.”
Hermione simply stared at her, dumbfounded.
Chepi said, “Dude. That is so heavy. Like, way heavier than going back in time and meeting your mom and almost erasing yourself from existence.” When she saw the glares being leveled at her by both Hermione and her mother, she said, “Jeez Louise. I was just trying to lighten the mood. Get a grip.”
Genessee turns back to Hermione. “Are you alright dear? I know it’s a lot to take in. Do you have any questions?” But Hermione’s quick mind had already been over the information several times and while she was feeling a bit overwhelmed, the information felt right somehow, as if she had always known and had simply forgotten. Now that she thought about it, this explained a good many things about her life and her magic. She did have other questions, though.
“Yes. Can you explain about the perverted magic now?”
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TWO MONTHS LATER
November dawned cloudy and cold in the Scottish Highlands. The air smelled like snow and whipped around the castle in a frenzy. Draco drew his heavy cloak around him tighter as he walked back into the castle after his herbology class. He hated winter. He hated being cold at all, which made his current predicament that much worse. Tonight was the night that the sixth years would be learning Avada Kadavra- the killing curse. They would be starting small, just flowers to begin, but the killing curse is the most difficult Dark spell, and Dark Magic always took a toll. He knew from personal experience that feeling cold- as if all the heat has been sucked from your body and you will never feel warm or happy ever again- was one of the main aftereffects of Dark Magic. He shivered just thinking about it and pulled his cloak even tighter. He has been dreading this day for years. Learning this particular curse was the last step you took before becoming a Death Eater. Anyone who could cast it effectively on a human was given a place in the Dark Lord’s army, while all who could not were consigned to a life of drudgery and servitude.
As he entered the Great Hall, he caught the eye of Theo eating lunch and gave him a nod before turning around and heading to their tunnel. He knew Theo would understand the look in his eye and round up the others. Several minutes later, Draco was sitting on his shaking hands with his leg bouncing like crazy as his friends came around the corner. He jumped to his feet.
“What the hell took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever! Hurry up already!” Draco felt as if he were crawling out of his skin, as he’d once seen the Dark Lord’s pet snake do. He swiped a hand across his forehead and was surprised to feel it come away drenched in sweat despite how cold he felt. He paced quickly as Theo pulled out his supplies, clenching and unclenching his fists.
Finally Theo said quietly, “It’s ready, Draco. Sit down.” As Draco sat, Theo’s eyes took on a faraway look for a moment before he said, “We need to stop using this stuff. I have a… a bad feeling… Something is going to happen, I’m not sure what. But I think we need to stop.”
Draco stared at him, open mouthed. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. How could Theo suggest taking away the only thing that brought any relief from the horror that was their everyday life? The only thing he had to look forward to? His entire body started to shake and his vision went blurry. He stumbled and fell down at Theo’s feet.
“Right, well, perhaps we can discuss quitting another time.” Theo said, and although Draco could not see his face, he heard the concern in his voice.
An hour later, they were sitting with the rest of the sixth years in the Great Hall, which had been filled with small round tables only big enough to seat one, each with a small potted flower in the center. Draco was no longer shaking or sweating, but instead was grinning stupidly and feeling as though his head were disconnected from his body and floating above his head like a balloon. Theo looked at him seriously and said “Stop smiling! Someone will notice!” This just made Draco laugh, however, which drew many questioning eyes from their fellow students who seldom heard anyone laugh about anything. Draco heard the confused whispering around him, but was too far gone to care. When Professor Snape opened the doors and swept in like a giant black peacock, Draco sniggered loudly, drawing the eye of Professor Carrow who had come in with Snape. Theo threw something at the back of his head.
“Good evening, students.” Professor Snape drawled in his slow, bored voice. He pushed a lock of greasy hair away from his face as he surveyed his audience. “The day you’ve all been waiting for is finally here. The day you officially start your journey to joining the ranks of the Death Eaters. I trust I do not need to reiterate the life you will be forced to lead should you not be able to perform, so with no further ado, we will begin. As you know, in order to be able to use this curse on a living thing, one must truly have the desire to destroy the thing upon which it is cast. This is the most difficult part of the curse for most people, especially young people learning to cast it for the first time. We will work on intent in the coming months, but for tonight we will simply be learning the technique. I believe each of you should be able to muster up enough will to kill a simple flower, don’t you?” His mouth twitched as though it wanted to curl into a grin, but didn’t have the energy.
At this, Professor Carrow took over the lesson, showing them the wand movement necessary and having them practice the motion for several minutes silently. Draco, still high as a kite, found this to be highly entertaining and kept having to stifle giggles. His wand movements were wild and erratic, and pretty soon everyone around him was grinning and struggling to concentrate on what they were supposed to be doing. He looked over and saw that his friends were faring little better. Pansy was staring dazedly into space, Theo had the look on his face he gets when he Sees things, and Blaise was concentrating so hard on trying to act normal that he was going cross eyed. Draco let out a particularly loud snort at this, attracting the attention of their teacher.
Amycus Carrow was the most sadistic person Draco had ever met. He routinely performed unforgivable curses on students in the hallway for no other reason that he wanted to. Teaching Avada Kadavra was his favorite part of working at Slytherin. He also had disliked Draco since almost his first day of school. Draco got the impression that Amycus and his father had had a falling out some years before, and Amycus was quick to pounce on any show of weakness on Draco’s part.
“What’s so funny, Malfoy?” He spat out Draco’s last name as if it tasted like flubberworm mucus. “Are you thinking about all the fun we’re going to have when you flunk out of Slytherin and the Dark Lord gives you to me?” The man leans in close to Draco’s ear and inhales loudly. “Mmmm. I do love the smell of useless coward in the evening. I can’t wait to rip the skin from your body and have it made into a leather jacket. Right fashionable, don’t you think?” He smiled a toothy smile that showed off his decaying teeth and moved on.
Draco did not feel giddy any longer. He looked around for something he could throw up in, but the moment passed. Soon after, the students were instructed to perform the curse on the flower in front of them. Draco heard many eager shouts, and even saw a few weak streaks of green, but no one got it on the first try. Draco, still in a haze, gave a halfhearted attempt and was unsurprised when nothing happened. After about 15 minutes, Draco heard the first cries of victory. Milicent Bulstrode and Vincent Crabbe were the first two to succeed, which was fairly unsurprising given their temperaments. After that, more and more kids succeeded until the only four who had not were Draco, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo. Professors Carrow and Snape came sneering up to them to see what was wrong. They each squared their shoulders and attempted the curse one final time. Draco’s fizzled out two inches from his wand, Pansy’s set her flower on fire, Theo’s produced nothing at all, and Blaise’s shot past his flower and hit Milicent on the hand, leaving a star-shaped scar.
Professor Carrow angrily approached Blaise, but when he looked into Blaise’s eyes he burst into laughter. He then went to Pansy, looked at her eyes and laughed again. When he’d done the same with Theo and Draco, he turned to the headmaster.
“They’re high as kites, Professor!” He said, laughing.
“Excuse me?” Professor Snape sneered.
“Drugs, Severus. I’m not sure what they took, but by the looks of things it was strong stuff. This is a pretty severe breach of school policy. Shall I punish them for you?” He said eagerly.
“No, that will not be necessary.” Amycus’ face fell, and then turned angry.
“Why not? They needs punished, they do. Coming to class high on who knows what, laughing through instruction. And you know I’m the best disciplinarian there is in this school. You can’t just let them get away with this!” Professor Snape raised one eyebrow so high it almost disappeared into his hair.
“Amycus, need I remind you that I am the headmaster here? I will punish them, don’t you worry. But the punishment I have in mind is one that does not require your… talents. Please go tend to your other duties. I will see you tomorrow.” He swept in a dramatic arc to face the children, and so did not see the look of abject hatred Amycus shot him as he left the room. He sneered down at the four friends and scoffed.
“Follow me,” he said, and his cloak flew around him with such force as he turned that it hit Draco square in the face. Draco tried desperately not to laugh as they followed the headmaster through the castle. Finally they came to a stop in front of the hospital wing. Professor Snape knocked politely. The door was opened by a tiny woman with ebony skin and gray hair. Madam Pomfrey had been the Healer at Hogwarts for 50 years, and though she was not a Death Eater and did not agree with current school policies, Professor Snape had convinced her to stay, knowing that her sympathetic nature would not allow her to leave children without a healer- even if those children were being trained to be killers. The petite woman allowed them in and listened intently as the headmaster explained the situation.
“Well, that’s an easy enough fix. I have a potion right here that will sober them up completely in a matter of minutes. Have a seat on the beds and I’ll be right with you.”
“No. I’m afraid that won’t be necessary.” The Healer looked at him in confusion.
“Severus? I don’t understand. Why have you brought them to me if you do not wish me to treat them?” The headmaster leaned in close to her and spoke softly so the students could not hear what was said. After several minutes, Madam Pomfrey looked at him sharply, seemed to consider something, and gave a nod. “Thank you, Poppy.” He said, and swept out of the room. She turned to the kids and squared her shoulders.
“Professor Snape seems to think that this is not a new behavior for you lot. I need you to be honest with me if I’m going to be able to help you, understand?” They nodded in unison. “Alright then. How long have you been using and what did you take?”
After a long, in depth conversation on their recreational habits, she said, “alright, here’s the good news and the bad news. The good news is you get me and not Professor Carrow. The bad news is, you may wish you’d gotten him by the time this is over. Given the amount of time you have been partaking of these substances and how much you have been taking, you are going to experience some very nasty withdrawal. I have been ordered to let you go through this process the natural way, which is not going to be pretty. Expect pain, vomiting, uncontrolled shaking, and a bunch of other nasty things. We’ll be here for several days, and even then you will probably not feel very well. You are also not allowed to do any schoolwork while you’re here, so you’ll have a hell of a time catching up once you’re done. This is going to be a nasty business, but we’re in it together, I suppose. Professor Snape is having some of your things brought here, but for now, just relax and get ready for bed.”
The next week was a blur. Draco was in and out of consciousness, unable to keep food and water in his body, racked with convulsions and whimpering in pain. He could hear similar sounds of suffering coming from his friends’ cots, but was too overcome to even raise himself enough to look at them. Gradually the suffering diminished, and Madam Pomfrey was given permission to give them enough pain potion to allow them to return to classes the following Monday. On Sunday night they were moved back into their rooms, amid wild speculation and gossip the other students didn’t even try to hide from them. The four friends just ignored all of it and refused to answer questions. They spent the night trying to organize all of the work they had missed over the last week.
“This is absolutely impossible. How in Heaven’s name does Professor Snape expect us to catch up?” said Theo.
“I suspect he doesn’t give a shit,” said Pansy.
“Yes, a rather ingenious and insidious punishment. I do believe the old broad was right that first night. I think I would choose a round or two with the Carrows over what we went through. And what the next few weeks will be like as well,” grimaced Blaise.
Draco hid his trembling hand under his thigh and said, “me too. But I’ve had enough laying about. I need to do something. Let’s see how much of this homework we can get through before classes start in the morning.
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Two weeks later, the grounds of the castle were covered in two feet of snow, and Draco was going stir crazy. He decided to risk freezing to death so he could get some fresh air. He was bundled in three jumpers, long johns, and his thickest cloak, with his Slytherin scarf wound securely around his face to keep his nose warm. He dug his gloved hands deeper into his pockets as an enormous shiver overtook his body, but at least this time it was from the cold.
He was still experiencing intermittent bouts of indigestion and uncontrollable shaking, and his every waking thought was of finding ways to get his hands on more drugs. The Carrows had searched the entire castle more thoroughly than they had ever searched anything before and got rid of every ounce of contraband they found. No one had been allowed to go to Hogsmead and packages were being searched by Mr. Filch, the caretaker. They were cut off, and Draco was not handling it well.
Their next Avada Kadavra lesson was this afternoon, and without any drugs or alcohol in his system, his anxiety was given free reign. He had had three panic attacks in as many days, and he did not think he was going to be able to make it through today’s lesson without losing it. He felt as though he were back in fourth year, when they had been working on the Cruciatus curse. As he’d sat in the Great Hall, watching his schoolmates torture muggles, he’d been able to feel all the emotions around him. The fear, sadness, and pain of the chained up muggles had beaten down his mental walls. Then the emotions of his classmates filtered in, and the nauseating mix of dread, nerves, fear, excitement, and elation had sent him over the edge. He was already shaking when it came his time to prove himself. As he stood over the elderly muggle woman pleading for her life, the walls he didn’t realize he had built to keep himself sane had crashed down and he had run from the room and vomited into an urn in the hall.
Professor Snape had come and put a calming hand on his back, leading him toward the headmaster’s office. Once there, he explained to Draco the intricacies of Occlumency and Legilimency. As it turned out, Draco was exceptionally naturally talented at both; the most gifted natural Legilimence since the Dark Lord himself. He had been meeting with Professor Snape for one on one training once a week ever since.
Draco knew his walls were much stronger now than they were two years ago, but the fear of them crumbling in front of everyone and embarrassing himself again was terrifying. He knew he was being watched, and one more show of weakness like that would probably get him kicked out and given to Amycus Carrow as a plaything. Especially after what happened during the last lesson.
He stopped on the shore of the Black Lake and took a deep breath. He took in the beauty of the mountains and the castle grounds, and for one brief moment, Draco felt peaceful. The smell of snow in the brisk cold air seemed to feed something in his soul. His racing thoughts finally slowed and he was able to think clearly.
His horror at the thought of killing a living thing was still palpable, but he breathed through it and reminded himself that this was only the second lesson. Whatever it was they were given would be small- a spider, perhaps? Nothing he should feel particularly bad about killing. Everything would be fine. He could do this. He turned and trudged back up to the castle, taking extra care in building up his Occlumency walls as he did so. He entered the Great Hall and sat down next to Pansy. She handed him a roll as his lunch appeared on his plate. He ripped the roll in half and dunked it into the hearty stew that had materialized in front of him.
Slowly the stew worked to warm him up and he began to relax slightly. He looked over at Pansy to see how she was doing. She seemed okay. The hollow look her eyes had held at the beginning of term was gone and she had gained some weight, but she still had an air of despair shrouding her every movement. She turned her head and caught his eye, and Draco was hit with a wave of intense emotion he knew was not his own. Shit. Curiosity was Draco’s worst enemy. Most Legilimenz had to perform a spell to read the thoughts and emotions of others, but Draco was one of the unlucky few not bound by this restriction. All he needed to do was focus on someone and their every thought opened before him like a book. Most of the time he was able to keep a respectful distance, but occasionally his curiosity had a mind of its own. He slammed his walls shut as quickly and hard as he possibly could as he finished his dinner.
Gregory Goyle slid onto the bench facing them with a gleeful look on his face. “Hey Draco. Pansy. Are you excited for class? I know I am. I’ve been waiting for this since first year. My dad’s been giving me lessons at home, so I’m ahead of the curve. I’d worked my way up to house elves by the time term started.” Draco decided not to mention the fact that both Crabbe and Bulstrode had beat him at killing a flower of all things. “I saw you both struggling during the last lesson and decided to offer my help, but I haven’t seen you since so I couldn’t talk to you. Is it true that Carrow tortured you for a week straight just for farting in class?”
Draco could not believe his ears. “Is that seriously what people are saying about us? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever hea-” he broke off in surprise when he realized that Pansy was laughing. He hadn’t heard her laugh in years. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen her smile. And now here she was, laughing so hard she had tears streaming down her face.
“You know what mate? You’ll never believe this. It’s actually worse than that. You see, I’d gotten hungry in Potions that day and decided that mushrooms sounded delicious. So I snagged a handful and had myself a little snack.” Goyle’s eyes were wide with anticipation, and Pansy’s were shining with tears of mirth, both waiting to see what Draco would say next. Draco wanted to keep the smile on Pansy’s face as long as possible. “Well pretty soon, my stomach started to turn and I realized I’d picked the poisonous ones instead of the edible ones. Silly me. Never paying attention in Crazy Quirrell’s class.
“I tried so hard to make it to class, but just as I met up with Pansy, Blaise, and Theo my stomach decided it had had enough and I blew chunks all over them!”
Goyle’s eyes were as big as saucers and he was leaning so far forward, Draco could smell the stew on his breath. He guffawed so loudly that the entire bench looked their way. Draco made a shushing motion and said “keep it down, bird brain. This is a very serious and sensitive story. I can’t believe I’m even telling you this. You have to keep this between us.”
“Oh. Sorry. I promise I won’t tell anyone, Malfoy. You can trust me. I’m great at keeping secrets.” Draco struggled not to look at Pansy. If there was one thing they knew about Goyle, it was that he was the world’s biggest busybody and he loved juicy gossip. It didn’t help much that he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. You could convince him of almost anything, and Draco had been using that fact since they were children.
“Good, because if this ever came out, I would be completely devastated. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you the rest. It’s much too embarrassing to risk it getting out.”
“I swear it, Malfoy. I promise I’ll keep your secrets. But you must tell me the rest of the story. I’ll simply burst if I don’t know what happened next.” Goyle was practically whining in his desperation to hear the story. Just how Draco wanted him.
“Well, as it turns out, those weren’t just any poisonous mushrooms. They were cursed mushrooms.”
Goyle gasped loudly. “Cursed how?” He asked, mouth agape.
“They were cursed to give anyone who came into contact with them to go a little wobbly in the head, and then to vomit and get the trots. Sometimes the trots last for days. So during class, we all went a little soft in the head and started seeing things. Professor Carrow wanted to punish us for stealing mushrooms from the school stores, but Professor Snape decided to do it instead. Unfortunately for him, that’s when the shits started. We were all absolutely desperate for a loo, and the only thing within running distance were those awful urns,” He gestured to the urns in question, which sat in the corners of the great hall, each depicting one of the Hogwarts House animals. The Carrows had desperately tried to change all of them to snakes, but were unsuccessful. Then they tried to destroy them and move them, but the blasted things refused to be removed in any way.
Goyle, who had never been very bright, took a minute to catch on. “So what did you do to the urns?”
Draco closed his eyes so Goyle wouldn’t see him roll them. “Well, we dropped trou and shat in them of course. What else were we supposed to do?” Pansy let out a high pitched giggle at this. Draco grinned. “Snape was so angry, he forced us to spend the week in the hospital wing getting the mushroom out of our system the natural way. Let me tell you, it’s going to take Madam Pomfrey weeks to get that smell to go away.” Pansy snorted and Goyle scrunched up his nose in disgust. “Absolutely vile. I’m never eating a mushroom ever again.”
“That’s absolutely disgusting, innit? Better you than me.” His Welsh accent was even stronger than usual thanks to his disgust. He moved to get up now that he’d gotten his fill of gossip. “Alright, butt. I’ll see you in class later.”
“Later. Oy, Goyle!” Gregory turned around with an eyebrow raised. “Remember. Not a word to anyone.” Goyle placed a finger by his nose and winked as he backed away. Pansy backhanded Draco’s shoulder. “Ow! What did you do that for?”
Pansy grinned. “That was awful. Thank you. I needed that laugh. It’s been far too long since I’ve had a reason to smile. But that story was disgusting,” she said with a chuckle.
“You’re welcome. It was nice to see you smile again. Besides, that ridiculous story will be all over the school within an hour and we don’t need to worry about anyone finding out the truth. It’s a win-win. Now come on, we need to get to Herbology.”