Chapter 5
His little brush with Weasley combined with everything else that had happened, had drained him completely. The good thing about that tiff was that it defused any outside commentary on the subject of his boggart, he didn't need rumors of his fear for his father to reach Lucius' ears.
Wednesday came without much of a hitch, and so did his apathetic attitude. After the emotional drain of the previous day he preferred to keep to himself, plus he was still dealing with the subject of his first life (time travel?); he still didn't know what to call it.
He was in the library. Pansy who, in his words, needed to "get away from all their male energy" had left with some of the other Slytherin girls they shared classes with and Blaise, as far as Draco knew, was practicing quidditch. So he was enjoying the quietness of sitting alone at one of the study tables near a window away from the others. Surprisingly Crabbe and Goyle hadn't approached or followed him like they usually did, which was odd, but he wouldn't read too much into it. That was just as well.
-Magical cores, the soul of a wizard. -
He quietly read the title of one of the books he found in the library before opening it.
The book spoke from a point of view that could be called "religious" of the core of the magicians and how they could dictate the skills of a magician even before he learns to use it properly.
¨Unlike muggles or squibs, people who are born without a magical core, wizards are born with powerful energetic power linked to their own life force and will. As an individual grows older this manifests itself in bursts of power at a young age when they are unable to control such abilities. Through training and study, a wizard or witch can control his or her abilities better. There are cases where a wizard or witch is born with a core of immense power leading them to be skilled in almost every area but for most of us we will see our magic leaning towards certain skills in which we will be experts or more skilled.¨
Again, he already knew that. For a wizard to be born already with immense power was rarely seen and was considered a blessing for the family. Dumbeldore was said to be one such case and hence why he became what he was - what he is.
What did strike him was how wizards could be innately better at one skill or another.
Draco himself was good at potions and transformation, they always came easily to him, that's not to say he was bad at the rest, but those two always came more easily.
It reminded him a bit of Muggle horoscopes and how it said that you would be better at certain things than others and that also reminded him of his personal astrological chart, which was a more precise and mathematical version of what Muggles have, used a lot in personal divination.
They learned that until fourth year.
How strange it felt to already know what was coming.
humm
He should read astrology and divination books too.
-Accio Stars, a guide of life- He whispered, his hand reaching out towards the bookshelves.
The book flew quickly through the shelves, too quickly in fact. Unable to stop it, the book flew straight into Draco's face.
-Shit!
Draco managed to duck a little so the book didn't hit him in the nose, but the bottom of the book hit him full in the forehead and then fell to the ground behind him.
-oh oh my god, holy sh-He groaned in pain, his forehead quickly turning red, he rubbed it with his hands trying to dispel the pain faster.
-No Accios in the library! If you want a book, get up and look for it, first and last warning! - Mrs. Pince's voice echoed angrily in his direction - and that book had better not be damaged! -
Suddenly he remembered why he didn't like to study in the library in his school years, Mrs. Pince was too controlling with "her books"; it was better to lend them out and return them. He would do that next time, now he just made an apologetic gesture to the woman before grabbing the book. It was then that he noticed soft laughter in front of him.
About 3 tables away was the golden trio doing their homework if the parchment and books were any indication, although the most focused as always was Granger, her eyes on her parchment and quill writing furiously. Weasley and Potter instead laughed quietly, a couple of times turning to look at him, the book incident must have been quite a show for them.
Draco sighed audibly, determined to stick to his plan and ignore those three. He'd hardly heard from them for over six years, only what came out from time to time in the Daily Prophet and even if I read that much news, he could ignore them now.
He brushed his fringes out of his face a little, the pain in his forehead was now non-existent so he turned his attention back to the book in his hand.
He put it aside, deciding first to finish the reading he already had in his hands; he moved through the paragraphs and pages until something else caught his attention.
¨Magical blockages: dark magic. Blocking a wizard's magic is an act of cruelty that has been recorded since the earliest witch hunts. Many historians say that this magic was created to protect us from those wizards who worked with the hunters so that they could not detect the magic of the individual to avoid execution, but others say it was created as a punishment for those who would not follow the orders of the monarchy in command. Whatever its origin, blocking magic completely is said to have harmful effects on the health of a wizard as it is our life force, part of what keeps us going. Today that power has been lost, but spells and rituals still exist to block a mage's power by allowing them to use only a limited amount of magic every so often or in more extreme cases by blocking a portion of a mage's power from reaching its full potential¨
He remembered how they did that to him; how that old wizard of the wizengamot cast the spell that bound his magic. How for two years he had to learn to live without using magic all the time.
Larry had mocked his lack of knowledge of Muggle appliances the first time he'd tried to use a toaster, but how was he supposed to know that the damn thing would throw the bread, he'd been scared to death.
A soft smile spread across his face, it had been one of the first winter mornings of the year and one of the first he'd spent in Larry's place when he'd taken him in. He remembered how his friend had laughed at him and in the end Draco had laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. That was the first time he'd laughed until his stomach hurt in a long time.
Draco missed Larry, missed Sheila, missed the life he'd built.
-Why do you think he's smiling? - Potter's voice rang out in a whisper -I've never seen him smile like that before,-
-Maybe he's figuring out how to drown puppies in the black lake- Weasley added mockingly, both in a very poor and bland attempt of discretion.
-Argh for Christ's sake,- he exclaimed softly in exasperation, a phrase that, in his first life, his friend Maria used to say a lot, scolding Draco for his vulgar vocabulary.
Irritated, Draco grabbed his books and headed towards Miss Pince to borrow the books, he could hear the two idiots still talking behind his back, but he couldn't quite understand them.
Before he left the library he thought he heard Granger ask: "Do wizards get taught about Christ?
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That night he tried to continue with his research, he had managed with much effort that his lumos was only a soft light; because he could not sleep, after waking up from a nightmare where he returned to the roof of the building, he thanked Merlin for having woken up before being forced to jump, but the voice of Larry shouting behind him left him too disturbed filling his mind with memories of his friends from his first life which also led him to remember the war and everything that was to come in a few years.
That's a sleepless night for anyone.
A part of him told him he had to do something, but who was he to stand up to the dark lord (a shiver ran through his body) he hadn't been able to the first time, who's to say he could do it now.
He scratched his neck with his fingernails, first one side and then the other.
He could escape, grab some money from the Malfoy vaults and flee to the Muggle world in which he already had experience, maybe even meet up with his friends again. Get back to making a life for himself.
But who's to say his father wouldn't send after him, he'd have to leave the country.
And his mother, to escape would be to leave his mother alone with the approaching monster. Because he was given to the dark lord his mother could be left mostly intact, but if he left she would surely be forced to take the mark. That horrible, painful mark that stained his left arm.
The realization hit him suddenly.
He rolled up his pajama sleeve. The mark was gone.
He stroked his fingertips over the smooth white skin of his arm. There was no mark, no horrible pattern of snake and skull, no horrible black stain that turned when the dark lord was defeated, no horrible scars left in his desperation to rip the pattern from his body. Nothing.
Just smooth, white skin.
He reached inside his pijama shirt, the scars from the bathing incident gone too, without the smooth, slightly lumpy skin.
He had spent so much time learning to ignore them that he didn't notice how they were no longer with him. He avoided looking in the mirror naked, wearing long sleeveless shirts or even looking at his left arm as much as possible. He hadn't forgotten them, they would always be a reminder of his mistakes, but, just as he tried not to think about the war, he didn't think about them.
Draco felt strange, he was relieved, but equally disturbed. Almost on the verge of tears again.
That mark was a choice he regretted forever, a torture he wished on no one.
That led to another topic, the dark lord would want one of his own inside Hogwarts, an intelligent student with the freedom to walk around and repair the wardrobe.
Pansy and Blaise had stayed away from the war, he had kept them away from him and the dark lord's plans. If he left, who would do that?
¨They abandoned you when the war was over," Draco's betraying mind reminded him.
Yes, Pansy and Blaise fled with their families to Germany and Italy when the war ended and they hadn't tried to contact him at any point. Part of him didn't blame them, anyone who approached him had the possibility of falling under the same public scrutiny and they had been part of the purebloods, so his life was already tainted without him in it.
The other, more rotten part of Draco, the one that had been cold in the streets, still held a little bit of a bitter resentment towards them, but he had to remind himself that he hadn't tried to look for them either.
He rubbed his foreheads hard, how horrible it was to think about all that.
Better to close his books, turn off his light.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The DADA class began with some theoretical lessons on gridylows that Draco barely remembered from his first time.
Halfway through the class Professor Lupin asked if those who hadn't faced their boggart a un wanted to do so, like the silly and curious teenagers that most of the class were, they said yes.
That brought him to this moment, having double deja vu. Several students successfully confronted the boggart until Potter stepped forward.
Surprisingly it all happened just as Draco remembered it the first time: Potter standing in front of the cupboard with his hair looking more like a bird's nest in the back than he could see, shoulders tense and ready, the Dementor coming out, Lupin and his fear of the moon (which made more sense now that he knew his secret) and the whole class being dismissed.
Weird.
He thought that, with the change of the first class, that specific event wouldn't happen anymore or at least not as much, but it did.
Draco was curious, he needed to check out books on time flows from the library as well.
UGGG, so much research was making his itch worse.
And he had yet to survive potions with his magic all in an overdrive.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The universe was smiling on him that day...
The rest of his classes were theoretical.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-So, what were your findings, Mr. Malfoy,- Remus Lupin asked.
It was Friday evening, most of the students and teachers would be gathering for dinner in the Great Hall, but instead of being there or hiding in his room, Draco was in his teacher's office at a table with Professor Lupin sitting cheerfully across from him with a couple of cups of hot tea and some biscuits between them.
If you asked him, Draco would say he felt .... comfy.
Comfortable sitting across from a werewolf, his 17 year old self would say he went mad but eventually accepted that he had a problem with THE werewolves who worked with the dark lord (Greyback most of all, a mangy, unhinged fleabag with Catholic priestly tendencies Draco could testify to).
His thinking was that if he had given up his prejudices with muggles and muggle-borns, he wasn't going to throw them into another minority.
- Magical blocks, how to help control a magical child's magic, so-called blood magic to determine if your magical core follows one bloodline or another; very interesting, by the way; I wonder how many infidelities could be discovered with that last one,-Draco wondered if, if true, it would have been used on either side of his family in the past and what family dramas that led to, -But nothing about sudden magical fluxes in teenage years-
He admitted defeatedly, the soft dark circles that stained his eyes were proof that he did a lot of research.
-I'm sure many romance books would have used that device for a dramatic twist. You say he is my son but his magic does not resemble mine," the professor said in a mock amused voice, clutching his mug, -although we have more concise methods of determining paternity these days. -He sips- Your magic still comes out with too much intensity, I imagine,-
Draco just to prove a point pulled out his wand and cast a warming spell over his teacup causing the contents to bubble up as if they were boiling for a few seconds.
Lupin's perplexed expression looked very funny to Draco who couldn't help but smile.
-Impressive, though I hope you don't burn your tongue now,- Lupin smiled at him as well.
Draco, feeling playful, cast a cooling spell that froze the tea.
The thermal difference affected the porcelain and the cup shattered on the table with a small clatter.
Lupin and Draco stared at the cup for a few seconds. The blond felt ashamed of what he had done and was about to apologize when he heard his teacher's laughter. A soft, deep chuckle, amused by the surprise of the mug.
-It seems I need to buy magic cups for your next visit, Mr. Malfoy.
-Y-yes, you should-Draco said in a softly mocking but slightly regretful tone, scratching his neck- Sorry about the mug- -I'm sorry about the mug-
He felt a twinge of guilt.
-No problem, nothing that a good Reparo won't fix,- he said.
- Could you do it? -Draco asked, "I don't know what would happen if I cast it with my magic as it is,- Draco asked.
Draco grabbed the iced tea while his teacher fixed the broken cup. He placed the ice in the cup and his teacher heated it for him, this time to the correct temperature.
-Thank you.-
-No problem. You're a very kind young man, Mr. Malfoy," Lupin still maintained his cheerfulness and Draco felt a sharp pain in his chest knowing that he would never be told that if he were the real thirteen year old version of him. The little shit would have mocked the kind and patient professor behind his back. - Now, I spoke to the nurse and with a little persuasion she agreed to teach me a diagnostic spell for your magic core but made me promise that if I noticed anything dangerous or affecting your health I should let her know. It should be noted that I didn't mention which student it was. Are you okay with that? -
Draco thought about it for a few seconds, he had to find out what was affecting his magic so it was best to accept, then he would see what to do.
He nodded to his teacher.
-Can we do it now?
-As you wish. -The werewolf put down his cup and stood up, moved his chair and placed it so that it was next to Draco, who had to turn around so that they were facing each other, "I need you to stay very still while I perform the spell, understood? -
Draco nodded again.
-Good.- Remus Lupin raised his wand, took a deep breath. -Coritende-
A soft yellow light touched Draco's chest giving him the sensation as if a door had opened in his body. A millisecond later another soft light, blue this time, shot out of his chest disturbing his vision for a second.
When he was able to focus his eyes he was shocked by what he saw. Professor Lupin looked equally perplexed.
It looked a bit like those pictures in the biology books Sheila had, where a person's circulatory system was shown; their arms, legs and torso glowed with little bright blue lines that connected with each other in a steady, beautiful flow of pure magic.
It all connected at the center of his chest, just above his sternum where there was supposed to be a glowing ball of magic that fed the rest of the system. The core
In Draco's chest there was not one glowing magical core.
There were two.
Two magnificent balls of magical energy that began to coalesce in the middle.
-Bloody fucking hell,- Draco whispered in disbelief, and Remus Lupin seemed to agree.