The Deal
Dahlia was aware of the buzz her words invoked from the crowd of students behind her, but she focused on the headmaster before her, pushing out the loud thoughts and worries of others. Of course, she did not know was Professor Dumbledore was thinking, she never did, not unless he wanted her to. In this moment, she wished very much to know, but by the way he looked at her, she felt like it was him who was trying to read her mind.
He had instructed Professor McGonagall to take the Gryffindors to the Great Hall, and for Professor Flitwick to do the same with the Ravenclaws. Filch was to find Professor Sprout and inform her to lead the Hufflepuffs there as well. He and Dahlia were to collect the Slytherins.
Dahlia fell into step behind the headmaster, keeping her head straight and her mind guarded, not daring to look at the multitude of Gryffindors watching her with interest and suspicion. But there was one Gryffindor who seemed to always find his way in her line of sight, two shaggy red hair and browns eyes locked on the tall blonde, but one more invested than the other.
Dahlia had no time to flip through the mind of Fred Weasley, nor did she care to. She could already guess what she would find there, suspicion and condemnation. Even the Weasley’s, the lowest of the pure bloods, knew that the Malfoy’s and Black’s shared a family tree.
Once the pair had separated far enough from the crowd, Dumbledore turned his attention to the girl as they made their way to the Dungeons. “How do you know?”
Dahlia took a shuttered breath, “it’s happening again, Professor. The castle, it’s speaking to me. Just like last year, leading me.”
Dahlia had hoped that after Potter had slayed the monster in the Chamber of Secrets that she would find peace again. That the castle wouldn’t lead her to anymore scenes of violence, bloody messages on the walls of Hogwarts had become torn paintings.
“Did you hear anything different?”
The two were encroaching closer and closer to the entrance of the Slytherin common room and Dahlia lowered her voice. “I think I heard a memory of sorts. Laughter. Like an echo of a time past…”
Dumbledore hummed in intrigue and thought but said no more, simply gesturing for Dahlia to reveal the door to the common room.
“The werewolves howl by the dread wolfsbane” Dahlia stated clearly, and a serpent rose from the floor to carve a door out of the stone, leading to the common room.
Quickly, Dahlia, Dumbledore, and Professor Snape gathered the Slytherins and escorted them to the Great Hall where the other three houses waited confused and worried. Dahlia stepped aside to stand with her brother who searched her face for any sign of trouble. She only shook her head at Draco and gave him a pointed look to say that now was not the time to talk. The siblings turned their attention to the Headmaster who now addressed the student body.
“The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle,” his voice boomed, effectively silencing the whispers of the other students while Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all the doors into the hall. “I’m afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. Prefects are to stand guard over the entrances, and I will leave the Head Boy and Girl in Charge. Any disturbances should be reported to me immediately,” he added to Weasley who looked annoyingly proud. “Send word with one of the ghosts.”
With a wave of his wand the long dining tables flew to the edges of the hall and the floor was covered with hundreds of sleeping bags. Before Dahlia could speak to Draco, Dumbledore signaled her over.
“I am afraid, Miss Malfoy, I must ask for your assistance once again.”
Dahlia nodded her head once and followed him out of the hall, turning back to her brother an mouthing, “stay here,” quickly. She followed Dumbledore up the stairs to the fifth floor where he stopped and turned to her.
“I believe your gifts would deem it better for you to take the lead from here.”
Dahlia took a step forward and closed her eyes searching the halls of Hogwarts for the sound of Sirius Black’s inner thoughts, only to come back empty handed. “I don’t hear anything Professor…” she trailed, looking up to the older man.
“Ah, well. Wishful thinking to expect it to be this easy, I suppose. Perhaps we’ll have a walk then, see if anything catches your attention?”
The headmaster began to stroll before she could respond, leaving Dahlia to increase her walking pace to catch up to him.
“Do you have any idea what it was you heard in the halls that lead you to the tower, tonight?” He asked calmly, seeming to forget that they were hunting for a fugitive that was loose in the castle.
Dahlia was taken aback by his casual demeanor, “A group of boys laughing, and then crying, but I think then there was less of them. I think…I think it was the castle’s memory, sir.”
The headmaster’s eyes twinkled, “You are not wrong, Miss Malfoy. Though, I suspect, you hardly are. What you stumbled upon tonight was an echo.”
The young blonde tilted her head in curiosity, just slightly. “An echo?” she repeated.
“Yes. A kind of memory, more like an imprint of the past…” he trailed, turning a corner. “Or perhaps a scar? Every scar tells a story, you know.”
Absentmindedly, Dahlia’s hand drifted to the small, faded scar behind her left ear, tracing the line with her index finger.
“Echos are very rare to encounter. Only the most skilled legilimens have found them. And some of those capable of seeing past the beyond.”
Dahlia scoffed, “you mean psychics?”
The older, wise man softly chuckled under his breath, “Divination, Miss Malfoy, is an ancient and most respected craft. Your family has had many that were quite gifted.”
The young girl merely dragged her fingertips across the old stone walls unimpressed. “Gifts in my family seem more like curses to me. Besides, I do not take much stock in divination. Prophecies are vague at best.” Dahlia suddenly stopped short and looked down at her feet. “Apologies, Professor, I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
Dumbledore only smiled and clasped a gentle hand on her shoulder, “None taken. Let us continue our search,” and led her up to the next floor.
The pair continued to walk the winding halls of Hogwarts until the small hours of the morning. Dahlia had kept her mind open, searching for any sign of the intruder, finding none. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she sighed as they found themselves back where they began. “I haven’t found any sign of him.”
“I feel I should apologize to you, keeping you so long in the night. Let’s return to the Great Hall, you need your rest.”
They returned to the Great Hall around three o’clock in the morning and were immediately accosted by the questioning of Percy Weasley, Snape not far behind.
“Headmaster,” Snape greeted, his gaze sliding over Weasley and Malfoy, “The whole third floor has been searched. He’s not there. And Filch as done the dungeons; nothing there either.”
Dumbledore sighed, though whether it was a sigh or relief or frustration, Dahlia could not tell. “Very well, Severus. I didn’t really expect Black to linger.”
“Have you got any theory as to how he got in, Professor?” asked Snape.
“Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next.”
Dahlia noticed a dark look cross over her Head of House’s face and tried to keep her face clear of any sign of curiosity. “You remember the conversation we had, Headmaster, just before – ah – the start of term?”
Professor Snape was choosing his words carefully, but his hesitance caught Dahlia’s attention and she was sure he and the headmaster had not missed the intrigued glint in her silver eyes.
“I do, Severus,” replied Dumbledore, his words laced with a warning.
“It seems – almost impossible – that Black could have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when, you appointed…”
“I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it,” said Dumbledore, and his tone made it clear that the subject was closed. “I must go down to the dementors and inform them our search is complete.”
The irritating voice of the Head Boy reminded Dahlia that Percy Weasley was still standing next to her and she took a step to the left. “Didn’t they want to help, sir?”
“Oh yes,” said Dumbledore coldly. “But no dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster.”
Dahlia watched as Dumbledore and Snape left and waited for Weasley to wander away after informing her that it was her turn to guard the back doors to the Great Hall. She was sure Snape was alluding to Professor Lupin having some connection to Sirius Black, as he was the only newly appointed staff member in Hogwarts. She had her own suspicions of Lupin, but she reasoned that there was a history she was not privy to.
She cast away her thoughts for another day as her exhaustion began to overtake her, but before making her way to an empty sleeping bag, she stopped short at the bags occupied by three meddlesome, eavesdropping, third year Gryffindors.
“Go to sleep. All of you.” She whispered harshly and caught how the three stiffened before walking away.
The next few days were filled with whispers and theories about Sirius Black. Dahlia did her best not to listen to the gossip and worries her classmates thought of loudly, but she couldn’t help but catch the Malfoy name being thrown around every now and then. Occasionally accompanied by dirty glances towards her and her brother.
She could handle gossip and rumors being spread about her, but she hated seeing it be done to her little brother. To everyone else he might have seemed unaffected by the words of others, but she could see how it bruised his self-image. Maybe that was why she set Lavender Browns shrivelfig on fire on her way to herbology after she heard her whispering that Draco probably helped Sirius Black into the castle, or maybe it was because she was had ran out of calming draught reserves and hadn’t made her new batch yet. Either way, alight it went.
Not that anyone would point fingers at her. She hadn’t even needed to utter the incantation. She simply walked down the hall and brushed shoulders with the girl and narrowed her eyes as she kept walking forward. Dahlia couldn’t suppress the smirk of satisfaction that grew on her lips when she heard the girl shriek.
But gossip and rumors were not the only things Dahlia had noticed floating about the castle, after the alleged security breach in Hogwarts, the professors were acting more strangely than usual. They were watching, carefully. Watching the Potter boy, specifically. And from the look on the third year’s face, he found it incredibly annoying. Not that she could blame him, Dahlia would lose her mind if Percy Weasley was following her around everywhere she went like a bodyguard, or an annoyingly attached puppy. But what connection Potter had to her cousin was unknown to her. Something grave, she imagined, based on how everyone was acting.
And it seemed the weather could sense the dreary atmosphere of Hogwarts, and it only became worse as the Saturday quidditch match approached. It was because of the weather than Dahila was wandering the halls inside, looking for a quiet place to read, and happened upon Flint leaving Snape’s office with a smug look on his face.
As though knowing she was approaching, Snape called her in following Flint’s departure and handed her an envelope. “Miss Malfoy, bring this to Mr. Wood. I believe he and the Gryffindor Team are practicing on the quidditch pitch.”
Tentativly, she took the letter. “What is it, sir?”
Snape didn’t lift his gaze to answer, focusing on scribbling over some fourth year’s paper, scratching most of it away in distaste. “Informing him that Slytherin cannot play this Saturday on account of your brother’s injury…”
Dahlia scoffed, “Flint’s the captain, why not give it to him?”
“Because, Miss Malfoy…” Snape snapped, irritated by the questioning, “Mr. Flint is preoccupied. And because, I have told you. That will be all.”
Dahlia huffed and took her leave, gripping the note in her hand tightly and stomped her way to the Quidditch Pitch. At the sight of the white, blonde hair marching towards them, Wood shouted at his team to land on the ground immediately. She rolled her eyes at his paranoia, as if she would waste her time spying for the quidditch team.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” He asked, clearly suspicious of her appearance. “Quidditch practice is private, you know the rules.”
Dahlia narrowed her eyes and smoothed out her hair, “Stand down, Wood. I’m only hear to deliver a message from Snape.”
She extended her hand out to him and passed him the still sealed envelope. The rest of the team had gathered around now, leaning in with interest at what it said. Including Harry Potter and the Weasley Twins. Though, one of the gingers was less concerned with the note and more focused on the blonde standing before him.
Dahlia glared at Fred, who was leaning casually on his broomstick, his arms tucked underneath his head, and wiggled the fingers of this right hand at her in greeting, accompanied by a wide toothed grin.
“You’ve got to be joking!” Wood exclaimed, catching the girl’s attention and that of the team behind him. “We’re not playing Slytherin? We’re playing Hufflepuff instead?”
Wood looked sideways at Malfoy, who only shrugged her shoulders in indifference but still stayed out of curiosity.
A chorus of “why?” sounded from the team behind him, but he focused his attention on the Slytherin prefect instead, face red with anger.
“Their excuse is that their Seeker’s arms still injured,” said Wood, grinding his teeth furiously. “It’s obvious what you’re doing. You just don’t want to play in this weather, think it’ll damage your chances…”
Dahlia’s eyes snapped up to his challenging gaze and turned to ice so cold, they could give whoever investigated them frostbite. “Do not point your fingers at me, Wood” she threatened, not raising her voice. “I do not play quidditch, I am not doing anything.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Malfoy’s arm!” exclaimed Harry furiously. “He’s just faking it!”
The older Malfoy’s gaze shifted to the young boy who immediately froze under her glare and took a step back rather than confront the ice queen.
“We can’t prove it,” said Wood bitterly, resigning, “But we’ve been practicing all those moves assuming we’re playing Slytherin, and instead it’s Hufflepuff, and their style’s quite different. They’ve got a new Captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory…”
At his name, three of the Gryffindor girls suddenly giggled, and Dahlia found herself to be peeved by it. “He’s that tall, good-looking one, isn’t he?” Johnson asked.
The girl next to her giggled again, “Strong and silent.”
Dahlia didn’t expect to see Fred Weasley stand up straight again and puff his chest more than usual. “He’s only silent because he’s too thick to string two words together…” And she certainly didn’t expect to see him glance at her as he spoke impatiently. “No need to worry Oliver, Hufflepuff is a pushover.”
She caught the other Weasley muffle a laugh and she too had to suppress a sound from coming out. But whether is was laughter or a scoff, she wasn’t sure.
Eventually, she got bored of watching the Gryffindor’s squabble like children and drifted away, her book still in hand, finding an alcove for her to perch in by the courtyard. With the abysmal weather, most had locked themselves indoors, avoiding being caught in the on and off rain showers. This left the courtyard empty and the perfect place for Dahlia to continue her reading undisturbed.
She often lost herself in her stories, like the rest of world simply disappeared. There was something about the hero in this particular epic that interested her. His determination, his wit, and his pride. He wasn’t really a hero, he wasn’t really a good person, per say. He was human, good and bad. All the characters were, no one was black and white. Here was a man who sacrificed his life at home to fight in a ten-year war and was presented with an opportunity to finally return home to his family, but let his pride get the better of him.
Dahlia was pulled out of her thoughts when she noticed a mass figure standing before her, a small smile adorning his face. “Diggory,” she choked out, trying to hide her shock at noticing him sooner, “do you need something?”
“What are you reading?” He asked, craning his neck forward to steal a glimpse.
“Nothing.”
He chuckled as he tilted her book forward a bit to get a better look. “Evidently.”
Dahlia stood up to leave, her quiet reading time having been cut short, but halted as an arm landed on the wall in front of her, caging her in. She lifted her head to see Diggory had moved closer, but the threat to move was in her eyes.
To her surprise, or maybe to her annoyance, Diggory seemed not to care. “I wanted to ask something of you.”
Dahlia only lifted one eyebrow and Diggory relaxed his arm, but didn’t remove it. “You mentioned already knowing how to brew Draught of Peace. Snape assigned it in class, like you said he would…”
“Get to the point, Diggory.”
The Hufflepuff sighed, “I’m rubbish at potions, alright? And Snape…he’s making us brew it in front of the class for him to examine. No notes allowed…and I…well…Look, I’m asking for your help. Tutor me?”
He was desperate and a vicious grin grew on the Slytherin’s lips. “Why? Don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the whole class?” He stayed silent and looked towards the ground, Dahlia clicked her tongue. “Why would I help you?”
“Help me and I won’t let Professor Sprout know about what you did Browns Shrivlefig.” He glanced back up, a confident smile on his face. “Yes, I saw that.”
Dahlia kept her face unchanged, “No proof, Diggory.”
“Fine,” he drawled and leaned in closer, “then I won’t tell the whole school about the Slytherin Princess crying in the library.”
This time, it was Dahlia who leaned in, “A) again, you have no proof. B) We both know you couldn’t hurt a fly.” They were only inches apart, Dahlia’s lips curled. “Oh, Hufflepuff, it’s cute you think you can blackmail a Slytherin.”
Cedric’s face faltered, his eyes flickered down for a moment too long to not be noticeable and then back up to Dahlia’s eyes. He had given up his façade and there was something vulnerable in his stare that Dahlia didn’t recognize. “What do you want?”
She pondered this for a moment. What did she want? Truthfully, nothing came to mind. There wasn’t anything Diggory could really offer her that she couldn’t get herself. Logically, there was no reason to entertain the idea of being his tutor, just this once. Yet, she found herself giving in. If there was one thing she liked more than taking something from someone. It was having someone in her debt.
“Right now, nothing.” She watched the Hufflepuff’s face fall and then she clicked her tongue. “You’ll owe me favor. One I can cash in at anytime, anyplace, for anything. Deal?”
He smiled, “Yes. Deal, anything you want.”
But he didn’t move and neither did she, still caged between him and the wall. Dahlia looked at him, really looked at him. His hair was wet from being caught in the rain, darker now, parts sticking to his face. She watched a droplet of water roll down the bridge of his nose in strange interest. She looked back up before it reached the tip before she could let her eyes drift further down.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the Quidditch match Saturday?” she asked quietly, leaning back against the wall, trying to focus on something other than Diggory’s face.
Diggory stood up straighter, “you know about that already?”
“I’m the one who delivered the news to Wood.”
He laughed, “Oh, I’m sure he hated that.”
Dahlia didn’t say anything, focusing on the trees behind his head, waiting for the conversation to find its end.
“Well, pleasure doing business with you, Malfoy.”
Dahlia steeled her gaze and looked back at the boy before her. “We’ll meet after patrols to work on the potion.”
She didn’t wait for him to confirm or respond at all, she simply ducked under his arm and walked away, clutching her book tightly to her chest and calming her breath.