Unforgivable Curses
Chapter 10: Unforgivable Curses
“Hey, there, Longbottom!” Theo greeted the lone Gryffindor sitting in the Potions classroom, shuddering from both his unchecked nerves and the frosty chill of the dungeons. The round-faced boy turned to take stock of Draco and Theo as they entered.
“Wha-what are you doing here?” Longbottom stuttered, grasping for his house-given bravery.
Draco just nodded at the other boy, walking up to Professor Snape’s desk, waiting for the bat-like teacher to arrive for their first Occlumency lesson of the year. Theo, on the other hand, plopped down on the stool next to Neville.
“Detention,” he offered a lop-sided grin.
Neville Longbottom stared at Theo, most likely assessing his level of sanity. “You…you have detention with Snape?” The Slytherin nodded in the affirmative. “Woah, Snape really is pissed off this year if he’s giving Slytherins detention.”
Draco chuckled, shaking his head. “Not Slytherins, just Theo and his smart mouth. I’m here for advanced lessons and moral support.”
“Right…,” Longbottom turned his pinked cheeks back to the book and quill in front of him, awaiting instructions.
Severus Snape blew through the door to the Potions room, his inky robes rustling against the cold stone floor. The three boys went silent and stoic.
“Mister Malfoy, we will conduct your lessons in the office through there,” he gestured to the now-open door he had just come through. “Mister Nott, Longbottom,” he sneered at the Gryffindor, “you will be disemboweling toads.” Snape waved his wand, and two barrels of toads floated to the center of the room, landing in front of their table. Longbottom’s face drained of all color, his eyes going wide and glassy. “You will not leave until the preparations are complete.” His black beady eyes bored into them before he turned and guided Draco out of the room.
Just as the door was shutting behind him, Draco heard Theo comforting a sniffling Longbottom. “It’s alright, Nev, Trevor’s definitely not in there…”
The room was dark, with a single, low-hanging yellow light. Two chairs were staged, facing each other, and a stone Pensieve lay proudly on the desk, engraved with a number of runes and symbols. The walls were lined with thick, wooden shelves, sagging under the weight of hundreds of glass jars containing animal bits and plants suspended in variously colored solutions. The ingredients cupboard was propped up in the corner of the room, which now was fitted with a padlock, unlike it had been last year during their Potions lessons.
“I presume you have been practicing your Occlumency this summer?” Snape asked tersely.
Draco nodded, not daring to speak. He hadn’t practiced much, but he felt his mental walls were still strong–fortified. He spent a few seconds checking their perimeter around his thoughts, feelings, memories… A sharp prodding poked along the edge, following his own movements. He thrust his energies into the wall, forcing it to flow from his magic into the erected barrier, reinforcing its strength.
“Good. Anticipating the attack is half the battle. The Dark Lord will not spare you a moment to collect your thoughts and tuck away memories. If you are to be in his presence, or even within the same building with him, you will Occlude. That is not a recommendation, do you understand? It is a necessity for survival.”
Draco wanted to tremble. He wanted to pull forth the visions of Granger–seeing her in Diagon Alley, visiting him in the infirmary, their notes back and forth over the summer…
“Never let your guard down!” Snape sneered, having seen every single moment Draco had tried, in vain, to steal away for himself. “You cannot afford to feel, Draco! If you fail, it will not just be you that suffers. The Dark Lord will torture her–kill her in front of you! When she is gone, don’t think your pain will stop. Your mother. Your father. Your friends…”
Draco unconsciously stared at the door to the classroom where Theo was gutting toads. Sweet Theo, just doing his best to get out of his own father’s shadow and make his own choices. Blaise, who never had any part in the war… Pansy, his sister in all but blood…
“Again,” Draco commanded as he steeled himself, emptying his emotions until he felt nothing. He wouldn’t even recognize his own reflection if he were to be presented a mirror in that very moment.
…
The Occlumency lesson lasted another hour, with Snape attempting to break down Draco’s walls, searching for a crack in the foundation, a brick or stone out of place. Draco held strong. The Legilimens broke through only twice, quickly pushed back out with minimal damage done, but Draco was exhausted.
“We are finished for the evening.” Snape stood from his chair, breezing back into the classroom, leaving his student panting wearily in his absence.
After regaining his breath, Draco left the office, closing the heavy wooden door behind him. Snape was nowhere to be seen, but Theo and Longbottom were casting cleaning charms on their things before gathering them to leave.
“How’d it go?” Theo asked, drawing his brows together in concern. Longbottom eyed him curiously.
“Well enough.” Draco would say no more in front of an outsider. Now that he thought about it though…Theo and Blaise–even Pansy–could use Occlumency lessons of their own…he would have to discuss it with his mother over the winter holiday.
Theo said nothing further on the subject, understanding Draco’s lack of detail. “Well, I think we gutted over a hundred frogs,” he groaned.
“Horned toads,” Neville supplied, frowning.
Draco patted the boy’s shoulder, “Well, you're finished now, right? Go back to your golden tower and check on your toad, Longbottom.”
“Yeah go on, I’ll see you later, Nev,” Theo encouraged.
With a final bewildered look, Longbottom quickly departed, leaving the two Slytherins alone to meander back to the dormitories.
“So, that was nice of you…” Theo commented as he meticulously picked bits of toad guts from under his fingernails.
Draco huffed, “Don’t make it a big deal, alright?”
“I’m just saying…,” Theo chuckled, “you were awfully nice to Neville, and you weren’t a completely foul git to Hagrid earlier this week. Are you going soft on me, Draco Malfoy?”
“I’m warning you, Theo…”
“What, are you going to hug me to death?” the lanky boy chuckled, running a now clean hand through his brown hair.
Draco punched his shoulder. “Don’t tempt me, Nott.”
“Promises, promises.”
…
The following morning, the Slytherins had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and they were less than thrilled. Most of the students in their House had some sort of affiliation with the Dark Arts, either through Voldemort’s cause, or Grindelwald’s a few generations back. If Draco’s experience with the ex-Auror was anything to go by, having Moody for a professor didn’t bode well for any of them.
The tension in the classroom was thick and palpable when they took their seats, everyone hesitant to sit in the front rows lest they be the next victim of his ire. Moody’s wooden leg clunked as he limped into the room, sending any late-comers flying into seats with their heads down to avoid making eye contact with the man.
“Don’t bother getting your textbooks out,” Moody growled, sitting down at his desk. “You won’t be needing them for this lesson, though I doubt today will be of much use to your education. I’m sure each and every one of you has been well-taught about what we’re going over today.”
He took out a register, shaking out his long gray grizzly hair to partially cover his scarred face. He called out names off the list, while his magical eye whizzed around in its socket, finding each student as they answered. Moody’s eye focused intently when he called both ‘Malfoy’ and ‘Nott’, and the two boys shrunk down in their seats.
“I’m only here for the year–special favor to Dumbledore, you see–but don’t think I won’t use every ounce of my power to find out who among you is already practicing the Dark Arts.” He stared each and every one of them down, landing on Draco again without breaking eye contact. He cackled loudly, clapping his mangled hands together.
“So–straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I’m supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I’m not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you’re in the sixth year. You’re not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore’s got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what your parents are up to, the faster I can suss out who needs another first class trip to Azkaban.”
“Now, how are you supposed to defend yourself against something you’ve never seen–though I’m sure most of you have seen all of these before…” he said, eyeing the class, looking for any weak links to break. “...A wizard who’s about to put an illegal curse on you isn’t going to tell you what he’s about to do. He’s not going to do it nice and polite to your face.” Moody snarled in Draco’s direction. It was like his entire speech was directed at the blonde boy, and he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of it. Draco did, however, feel like there was a very good chance he’d end up as a ferret or at least back in the hospital wing again by the end of the class period.
“You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. So…who wants to tell us which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?”
No hands went up. The Slytherins as a whole were too fearful of being punished for such common knowledge, should Moody deem them guilty by association, even if they had never even spoken the name of the curses aloud. Slytherin self-preservation at work.
“No? Playing innocent…interesting tactic, but you’ll notice wizarding society as a whole will never believe a snake–fear of being bit and all that. How about we start with the Imperius Curse, then?” He grinned maliciously at Draco. “Yes, your father would know all about that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse.”
The man hobbled from his seat, opening a drawer in his desk to remove a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scrambling around inside it, looking for their escape. He stuffed his hand in, swirling it around until he finally caught one of them, and sealed the jar’s lid back on. Holding the spider in the palm of his hand so that it was in full view of the students, he pointed his wand and muttered, “Imperio!”
The creature jumped from the professor’s hand on a fine thread of spun silk as it swung back and forth. It did a backflip, snapping the thread and it landed on the desk beneath. The spider began to cartwheel in circles, and when Moody jerked his wand, it rose up on two of its legs, breaking out into a tap dance.
Moody looked out into the class, expectantly. “Think this is funny? Any of you?”
The Slytherins sat stock still behind their desks. There was nothing funny about this and they all knew it. The Imperius curse had most likely been used on several of his classmates when they were a threat of misbehaving at a society function, or simply too overwhelming of a child for their parents. Draco, personally, had never had it used on him, though Lucius had threatened it on occasions when Draco had grown rather defiant in his lessons.
“Several of your classmates from other houses seem to find it amusing. Think they’d like it if I did it to them?” Moody growled, watching for any type of reaction, but none was given. “You lot are a bit more aware of the repercussions, aren’t you?” His lip drew up in a sneer. “Total control,” the spider balled itself up and rolled over and over. “I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…” Moody snarled in his direction.
Draco shuddered involuntarily, wondering why in the bloody hell this grown wizard had it out for him.
“Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse,” said Moody, and Draco knew he was referring to the Dark Lord’s reign. “Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will.
“The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I’ll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone’s got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!” he barked, and the entire class jumped at the crescendo.
The somersaulting spider was shoved back into the jar.
“Anyone else want to participate?” he chuckled darkly at his own words.
Despite the Slytherins’ sense of self-preservation and lack of contribution to the class, Crabbe raised his hand.
“Yes?” the man’s magical eye rolled around dizzyingly until it landed on Vince.
“The Cruciatus Curse,” he said confidently.
Moody eyed the boy longer than necessary, but so did his classmates. The way Crabbe said the words, it was like his voice oozed oil and enthusiasm all at once. Draco felt gooseflesh pebble along his arms and the hair on the back of his neck raised to attention–the entire class could practically feel the anticipation in Crabbe’s answer. He was certain Moody would take Vince’s eagerness to be a sign of his Death Eater father’s hand in his upbringing, painting a target on all of their backs if they weren’t careful.
Moody regarded the boy, “Your name?”
“Crabbe,” Vince replied proudly, if not a bit obtuse.
“Ah, yes. Crabbe senior was one of my…well, let’s just say a run-in with us old wizards would not be a pleasant affair…though I could say the same for most of your fathers, I suspect,” Moody smirked at the thought.
“The Cruciatus Curse,” Moody continued, “needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea.” He pointed his wand at a second spider he had pulled from the jar. “Engorgio!” The spider grew several sizes on the desktop. It had swelled to the size of a very large tarantula, and Draco pushed his chair back, being in the front row. He didn’t much care for spiders in their smaller stature, but this was abnormally large and he’d rather not be anywhere near it.
Moody raised his wand again, “Crucio!”
The spider’s legs bent in on its body; it rolled over and twitched horribly as it rocked from side to side. No sound emerged from the tortured creature, but Draco was sure if it had had a voice, its screams would be deafening. The thought made him shudder, and he was lost in another place…another time.
“DRACO!” her voice had grown raspy from the screams. Blood was streaming from her nose, growing darker and darker, the scarlet pooling on the thick Persian rug beneath her. He was in the Manor.
Draco tried to lower his wand, but his arm was locked in place; his wand trained on her chest.
“PLEASE! DRACO, STOP! IT’S ME! IT’S GRANGER! HELP ME!” her cries grew quieter as her voice was lost to the screaming. He could feel the power of his magic flowing steadily from the center of his chest and down his arm, through his fingertips and into his wand. It poured out of him like an inky blackness–radiating around him like an aura, a pulsating cloud of Dark.
Her body writhed, back arching off the ground as she tried to make the pain stop. Every muscle in her body was convulsing, and the tears streaming out of her eyes turned scarlet.
She stopped moving.
“Stop it!” Daphne shouted, and Draco was snapped back to the present. Theo’s fists had clenched in front of him on the desk, his eyes wide and horrified. He had gone to another place too. While no one else would know what Draco had just re-lived–it was just a nightmare after all–most of the Slytherins were well aware of the torment Theodore Nott had suffered at the hand of his father.
Moody relented, though the spider continued to twitch. He levitated it back into the jar.
“Pain,” he said softly. “You don’t need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse…that one was very popular once too.” He eyed Theo and Draco’s friends with his head cocked in curiosity. They paid the sadistic professor no mind; Pansy and Daphne reached out to comfort the tormented boy before them.
“Right…anyone know any others?” Moody cleared his thoat.
Not a single hand raised. Even Crabbe had been shaken by Theo’s reaction to the demonstration. While they all knew he had been a victim of his father’s brutality, it was only rumors of how Theo had been given his black eyes and bloody noses in their childhoods, pre-Hogwarts. Now, it was clear just how cruel Theodore Nott Sr. was, and Draco thanked every star in the sky that his mother had been able to save his friend…his brother…that day he came out of the Floo.
“Ah,” Moody cleared his throat again, no longer focusing on Draco and his friends in particular, but the class as a whole, “the last and worst, Avada Kedavra…the Killing Curse.”
He put his hand into the glass jar, and as if it could sense what was coming for it, the creature scuttled frantically around the jar attempting to escape. It was trapped and placed on the desktop, like the others. The spider took to running, but instead of trying to re-capture it, Moody raised his wand, and there was a great sense of foreboding in the room.
“Avada Kedavra!” Moody roared.
A flash of blinding emerald light, and the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Pansy pulled Theo’s face toward her, whispering for him to focus only on her. They were leaving.
“Mister Nott, Miss Parkinson!” Moody bellowed to their backs. “Class has not been dismissed!”
Neither student turned back, Theo’s frame was slumped and defeated. Daphne collected her things, grabbing Pansy’s as well, and Draco and Blaise grabbed Theo’s. The friends walked out of the classroom without a word.
“Your absences will not be excused–” Moody floundered. “Detentions! All of you!”
Daphne, Blaise, and Draco fought to catch up to Pansy and Theo, who hadn’t even made it past the next alcove when he collapsed to the stone floor, silently staring blankly into the stone wall ahead of him.
“How–how could he be allowed to do that in a classroom?!” Pansy screeched in righteous anger. “If they’re so illegal then why is he allowed to do them!” She paced a ten foot path back and forth in front of where they had stopped.
Daphne dropped to Theo’s side, hugging his head to her chest, rubbing her delicate hands over his shoulder as she squeezed him to her side. “It’s okay, he can’t hurt you,” she whispered.
“I’m–I’m fine,” Theo managed to squeak out. His friends stared at him as if he’d grown three more heads. “Really, I–I wonder what’s for lunch. We should get a head start, we can get all the good stuff, you know?” His words were empty, but his eyes pleaded as they bored into Draco’s.
“Sure, Theo, whatever you want.” Draco stretched an arm out to help him to his feet.
Pansy and Daphne gawked at them, but Draco and Theo walked down the corridor, on the familiar path to the Great Hall, Blaise quickly trotting behind them. When they reached the dining hall, it was empty with the exception of a few students reading quietly during their free periods. It would be another hour before lunch was served, but they dutifully joined Theo at the Slytherin table, making small talk and avoiding the actual content of the class.
“So, anyone else catch Crabbe’s creepy tone?” Blaise toed carefully. It was much too close to Theo’s breakdown to tread lightly, but it needed to be discussed. Crabbe’s spiral into the Dark Arts and the circle of regrouping Death Eater had taken a sharp turn it would seem. They had been operating under the pretense that he was simply curious in following his father’s footsteps–fulfilling his duty as it were…That, however, did not seem to be the case any longer. The bloodlust in his eyes as he mentioned the Cruciatus was unsettling at best.
“Hello,” a small voice greeted sweetly. Astoria Greengrass sat next to Blaise, setting down her History of Magic textbook in front of her. “Mind if I join you?”
“Er–” Draco started to protest, but Theo interrupted.
“Sure thing, Tori,” he smiled at the young girl. “How are your classes?”
“Ugh, abysmal. I just cannot stay awake in Professor Binns' class! How did you do it?” she whinged, the facial expression she made was a perfect copy of Daphne’s. They really were very similar with the exception of Astoria’s wily auburn hair in comparison to Daphne’s posh blonde.
Theo chuckled, easing the tension Draco and Blaise had worked up at the intrusion on their conversation. “Easy, Tori, just let yourself fall asleep. History of Magic is a bore, just memorize a few dates and Goblin rebellions before each exam and you’ll be good to go.”
“Really?” she asked, amazed. “That’s fantastic! Daph just keeps saying I need to focus on my studies and take all this school stuff so seriously…I mean, I get it she’s perfect, but I feel like my talents lie elsewhere. Oh, sorry, Theo, I know she’s your girlfriend and all–”
“No worries. Really, your sister is one amazing witch, but we all have our strengths and flaws,” he patted her hand across the table and she smiled gratefully in return.
“Not to be an annoying little sister or anything, but shouldn’t you all be in class right now?” Astoria whispered conspiratorially.
Draco and Blaise eyed Theo warily. “We’re just–” Draco tried to think of some fraction of the truth that wouldn’t cause too much of a stir. “--taking a break. Defense was a bit exhausting today.”
She nodded as if she truly understood. “Professor Moody can be a bit…intense,” she finally decided on the word, though it didn’t even come close to how the boys around her felt. Astoria checked her watch, “Oh! I didn’t realize the time, I better be going. I promised Vincent I’d meet him outside his class so he could help me study.” She smiled dazedly, “An older boy, can you believe it? Oh, please don’t tell Daphne! She’ll absolutely ruin it!” She looked mostly at Theo.
He nodded, though the amused smile he had been wearing fell from his face. Astoria flounced away, giggling to herself as she noticed the spring in her own step. Draco looked at Theo and Blaise, horrified.
“We absolutely have to tell Daphne.” The words brokered no argument, and the two other boys nodded vehemently at Draco. “What is he up to?”
“Well, it’s not like he’s much of a strategist, mate.” Theo offered.
That was true. Whatever Crabbe had gotten wrapped up in, he definitely wasn’t the one pulling the strings. Perhaps he truly liked Astoria, but that wouldn’t bode well for her. He was acting increasingly suspicious, and Draco recoiled at the thought of Daphne’s sweet, younger sister suffering at his hand when it could have been prevented all along.
“What does she even see in him?” Blaise asked, seriously as the bell sounded, signaling the end of the class period. “He’s not an attractive bloke by all accounts, and he’s a bit lacking in the brains department.”
“She said so herself,” Draco replied as food and tableware appeared in front of them, “he’s older. Plus, I’ve caught him watching her at practically every meal. I’m sure she’s enjoying all the attention when Daph usually gets it all to herself in spades.”
Blaise considered the words, “True. Though, if we tell Daph, she’s going to flip.”
“Agreed.” Theo noted, “Maybe it’s harmless and they’ll get tired of eachother.”
Students started to trickle into the Great Hall from their various classes, and the trio lowered their voices to avoid being overheard.
“I don’t know,” Draco said, unconvinced. “Watch the way he looks at her when they come in here for lunch…”
“Watch who?” Daphne asked, plopping down on the seat next to Theo as Pansy joined Blaise where the subject of their conversation had just been sitting.
“Oh, Moody and Snape,” Blaise said quickly, “they’ve been skirting around each other all week.”
She hummed in agreement. “Greg and Millie made notes for us, we can copy them later in the common room tonight.”
The typical chatter grew as Greg, Millie, and Tracey joined them at the Slytherin table looking a bit worse for wear. No one brought up their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, though, and everyone settled into an easy meal.
Pansy picked at a few bites of shepherd’s pie, and Blaise shoveled pile upon pile of everything he could reach on his plate. Draco looked on while Daphne drank copious amounts of tea, and her eyes flicked back to Theo’s face every few seconds as though waiting for him to combust. All three boys kept a wandering eye on the door to the Great Hall, but Vince and Astoria never reappeared.
When the next bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period, they shared a worried look.
Afternoon classes went on, and by the end of the day, the friends had realized they would have to return to Moody’s classroom that evening for their ‘detention’. They had no idea what to expect, as Draco hadn’t even been given detention for the incident earlier in the week. Perhaps Moody would be too busy to deal with them and they could just clean chalkboards, or polish trophies in the Trophy Room.
“I see you’ve at least got enough integrity to receive your proper punishment,” Moody’s gruff voice startled the students as they walked into the classroom. “Think I know just the thing to set the five of you straight.” He hobbled to the front of his desk, his wooden leg clunking along with him. “You!” he pointed to Theo. “You’re first.”
Theo straightened his spine, standing tall and rigid as he stepped forward toward the grisly professor. “Yes, sir,” he responded, his tone flat and lifeless. He was trying to Occlude.
“I can see you’ve had plenty of experience with the Cruciatus Curse, so for the rest of today’s lesson…Imperio!”
Moody’s wand moved far too quickly for any of them to react properly. A collective gasp sounded from the Slytherins. Theo’s shoulders sagged, and his face went slack, a dopey sort of smile overtaking his features.
“Point your wand at Miss Parkinson,” Moody growled.
Pansy’s eyes went wide in panic. “Theo, no–” she said, trembling, barely a whisper. She took a few slow steps back, trying not to startle Theo into hexing or cursing her.
“Now, what shall we cast, hmm?” Moody mused aloud, enjoying the fear radiating from the students before him. He kept his own wand trained on Theo, while scratching at the scruff on his face. “How about a simple body bind for now, Mister Nott.”
Theo twisted his wand, still aimed at Pansy’s chest and muttered, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Pansy’s body snapped together rigidly and Draco leapt forward to catch her fall as she teetered backward. He just barely got his hands beneath her shoulders in time to lower her gently to the floor.
“Now, Mister Nott, if you could do the same for Miss Greengrass–”
“Theo, no…it’s me! It’s Daph, come on, Theo…fight it!” she pleaded with her boyfriend, his wand now trained on her.
Moody chuckled darkly, “Now, now, Miss Greengrass. Take your punishment like a good student.”
“I–I–” her eyes welled with tears, as she tried to beg Theo not to hurt her.
Moody turned his focus back to his puppet, “Do it. Now.”
Theo’s arm was wavering. He was fighting it. His eyes flashed from dull and dead back to vibrance, then back to empty in quick succession.
“Come on, Theo…” Draco muttered, wishing unrealistically that someone their age could pull through and throw off the Imperius Curse. It was an Unforgivable Curse for a reason, and it was near impossible to fight, even with the strongest of Occlumens.
Theo dropped his wand to the floor with a clatter, though he had not completely broken free from Moody’s mental hold, still standing rooted in place. Daphne whimpered when Moody turned his own wand on her instead. However, losing his focus gave Theo the chance he needed to break from the Imperio completely, and he bent down to grab his discarded wand. He turned, putting himself in the line of fire between Moody and Daphne.
“What are you playing at?” Theo roared, surprising them all. He wasn’t one to get angry or lash out like that, if anything, he would internalize and shut them all out. “Finite!” Theo waved his wand in Pansy’s direction, and Draco and Blaise held her while she stretched her limbs and clambored back to her feet.
Moody just grinned devilishly. “Interesting. Well done, Nott. You and the ladies may go. I believe you’ve learned your lessons.”
Blaise turned to help Pansy out the door, and Theo shot Draco a warning glance. Be careful with him. Draco held his gaze. I’ll be fine, go. Get them away from here. Theo gave him a curt nod before escorting Daphne to the door.
“Oh, Mister Zabini, I’m not quite finished with you yet.” Moody’s smirk was greasier than Snape. Blaise froze, but returned back to Draco’s side. “I’m not very familiar with your family name. Was your father involved in the Wizarding War?”
The young Slytherin grit his teeth together. “I’m not sure, sir,” he spat the title. “My father was not present for my upbringing. My mother, however, has had several husbands. It is difficult to say if any of them were involved in the war as they were not around for very long.”
“I see. A misguided youth, then?” Moody taunted.
Blaise said nothing, just stared back at the man, face hardened like a soldier’s. That’s what we’ll become anyway, Draco thought to himself. They would all end up as soldiers in another war. Based on his own father’s involvement in the rising Death Eater movement, it would only be a few short years and they would be recruited–forced to take a Dark Mark like their fathers. Perhaps Blaise would be able to escape…he could take Pansy and Daphne far away from here…Italy maybe…they could wait it out there. If Draco and Theo didn’t die or end up in Azkaban, they could join them later…once the smoke cleared…
“Imperio!” There was no preamble, or if there was, Draco had missed it entirely in his musings. There was an oddly relaxing sensation that trickled down his spine, and Draco felt his muscles unclench.
Raise your wand…Just raise your wand..Point it at the boy next to you, that’s it…
Draco’s arm raised of its own accord…just like his dreams. I don’t want to point my wand at him. I won’t do it. He couldn’t remember why he didn’t want to. The voice was so calming and soothing. It wouldn’t hurt to just do what it wanted, right? His arm trembled as he raised it, pointing at the boy before him. Who was it? Did he know him? Something didn’t feel right about all of this.
He tried to focus on that feeling, but the closer he got to grabbing onto the discomfort, the more physically painful it was to resist the commands from the voice. They were no longer soothing, but demanding. He let himself fall back into the calming words whispering in his ears.
Point your wand at him…You want to do it…Point your wand at him…Now Crucio him. Make him suffer. CRUCIO HIM!
He tried again to resist. I don’t want to! Draco was again close to the discomfort. He looked at the boy before him, really looked. It was Blaise–a friend–a brother.
Crucio him now…Do it NOW!
NO! Draco’s whole body shook as he forced his arm back down, and felt a throb as Moody pushed back against the front of his mind. He focused every ounce of energy he could summon on the point of entry, forcing the intruder back through the opening it had created. Draco sealed it up behind Moody as he was shut out completely, and erected his thick, stone walls around his thoughts again, occluding.
Blaise was shaking. “Draco?”
“I’m fine, Blaise. I think it’s time we leave.” Draco sneered at the professor, who looked shocked at Draco’s mental fortitude to throw off the Imperius in such a short amount of time. It had felt like such a long time in his own mind, but the fact that he hadn’t cursed Blaise was a testament to his somewhat natural Occlumency skills.
They backed out of the room, and turned down the hall, running straight for the nearest flight of steps. It didn’t matter where they went, but with Moody’s wooden leg, he wouldn’t be climbing steps very quickly. They reached the top of a staircase, panting. “We…are…never…going…back there…again!” Blaise groaned between gasping breaths.
“Definitely not.” Draco answered, just as out of breath. “We need to tell Dumbledore.”
Blaise regarded him for a moment. “Do you think he’ll actually do anything about it?”
“...No,” Draco said frustrated. They really had nowhere to turn. Realistically, the Headmaster had used a personal favor to get Moody into the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, and Snape had very little control over anything outside of Slytherin House, potions, and Quidditch. “McGonagall?”
“She’ll just think it’s us trying to get him sacked after the ferret incident, mate.” Blaise said, discouraged. “It’s our word against his, and he’s an Auror and a professor.”
“Ex-Auror,” Draco corrected angrily.
Blaise sighed, feeling the same disappointment. “Let’s write to your mother, and at least tell Snape what happened…you never know, he might be able to do something.”
The boys went straight to the common room, looking for Pansy, Theo, and Daphne. They found the three friends sitting awkwardly on the couch. The two girls comforted each other, while Theo sat at the other end, situated as far away from the others as possible, avoiding their eyes, studying his hands in his lap.
When Blaise and Draco walked in, the girls greeted them with wary eyes. “Are–are you…” Pansy trailed off, looking Blaise over for any signs of injury.
“We’re fine, Pans,” Blaise reassured her. “Draco threw off the Imperius pretty quickly, he barely even raised his wand at me.”
Theo scrunched his shoulders in on himself as he curled forward on the couch, covering his face with his hands.
Realizing his mistake, Blaise tried to amend his statement, “Theo, no–I just–he didn’t hurt me is all. You didn’t hurt Daphne either!”
“Right,” Theo said scornfully, his head still buried. “I didn’t hurt my girlfriend, just scared the living daylights out of her and cursed my own bloody sister!”
“Theo, I’m fine, really,” Pansy snapped back, like she had already made the statement several times since they had returned to the common room.
The taller boy groaned, “You could’ve hit your head on the stone floor! You’re lucky you don’t have a concussion at best! At worst, you could’ve hit your head just right and ended up in a coma or died, Pansy! Don’t you see that? I could’ve killed you!”
“Theodore Tiberius Nott. You stop that this instant. Do you hear me? Enough. We are both perfectly fine, now stop berating yourself over something you literally had no control over!” Pansy commanded.
“That’s not even my middle name–”
“I said enough!” she reprimanded again.
Theo fell silent, but he still looked torn over his actions, whether they were truly his or not. Blaise filled them in on what had happened after they’d left the detention. They were shocked.
“He was going to make you Crucio him?” Pansy’s voice wavered as it reached a new pitch. “He–he can’t do that! It’s illegal!”
Draco shook his head. “He doesn’t seem to care about legalities, Pans. I half-think he was trying to get me to use an Unforgivable so he could put me in Azkaban and get back at Lucius.”
“But why?” Daphne asked.
He shrugged, “Ted and Lucius both were able to escape imprisonment after the war, even as Marked Death Eaters. The official court transcripts say they claimed they were under the Imperius, though father was supposedly in league with Dumbledore as a spy. So I think it would be safe to assume he had something to do with getting him out of the charges.”
“So Moody thinks it’s retribution to have his son–who is innocent–be locked up instead? Make it make sense!” Daphne said, throwing her arms up in defeat.
“We can’t. He’s unhinged. Everyone thinks so, even his own comrades. Not to mention, if Theo or I were sent to Azkaban, our fathers would definitely be re-tried for their crimes, and most likely given guilty verdicts based on public opinion alone. The tides are changing, like mother said…we have to be careful. The respect we’ve grown up with for our family name is waning as people take sides. It’s no longer about money or status…it’s about power and protection.”
The Slytherins sat in silence for several long moments, all considering their part in the coming conflict. They would no longer be safe. They couldn’t fight back without drawing too much attention and being accused of crimes, but if attacked, no one would come to their aid. The balance was too delicate between sides, and the realization that they would have to choose one, and soon…was daunting.
“I’m going to write to mother, tell her what happened today. She’ll know what to do.” Draco left them to sit with their own thoughts as he returned to his dormitory to pen his letter.