Serpent's Wing 17
Hmm, mostly character stuff, the filler stuff that needs to be gotten out of the way with so that the plot can proceed. Comments and observations, of course, are welcome.
AC196 Nov-23
The youth watched Draco Malfoy throw his book down in disgust without a qualm. He had his own issues with the muggle studies text that, although certainly not the same as the blonde’s, meant he felt no objection to the book’s violent mistreatment. Malfoy had had his first lesson with the third years that afternoon, thus dictating the need for their first tutoring session, and it was already obvious that the class was going to be a struggle for him. After skimming through the material Malfoy was supposed to be learning, the youth had his own doubts about the subject matter.
Frankly, he had never read such a load of nonsense in his life… and that included Romefeller propaganda and Duo’s action reports. The youth had done more than a little research into the magical and non-magical societies and how the two interacted for more than one essay for Professor Snape and, in doing so had read quite extensively about the history of both subcultures in the British Isles but he had never needed to utilise the source material used by the muggle studies professor. Now, after reading it, he was quite certain that any previous attention spent with the blatantly exaggerated, misleading and outright fabricated ‘information’ continued within would have been a gross waste of his time. The author clearly had never experienced life without magic first hand and had no idea of what he was writing about. He was hardly an expert whose writings the youth would have been willing to use to educate others.
“This is all utter shite!” Malfoy whined, glaring at the offending book.
The youth could not deny the validity of that statement. “Hn.”
Malfoy turned on him, churlishly. “What the Hell do you know, Mudblood? You’re probably revelling in the fact that you can lord it over me while I am being forced to study this completely useless drivel about magically-deprived primitives and lack wits!”
The youth did not react to the unfounded and erroneous accusations. Draco Malfoy’s temperament might have been more subdued than it had been before the incident that had resulted in this undesirable situation but it was still erratic and unstable and he still held the same opinion of ‘mudbloods’ that he ever had. The youth had no desire to draw out his discomfit any further than necessary and attempting to correct Malfoy’s attitude would have done that greatly. Despite that, though, the youth had been given a task to complete and he was not one to give a substandard effort.
Over the last twenty-five hours, the youth had had ample opportunity to observe Malfoy’s state of mind and he had become relatively adept at predicting the changes, an advantage he had over everyone else in the school who, Slytherin or not, would continue to fall afoul of the Malfoy’s foul tongue until they learnt the warning signs. Malfoy was currently less threatening, not less rude. He regarded the younger teen with a blank face, waiting until the emotional burst ebbed and the other’s mental state levelled out. After a few more seconds of Malfoy’s incensed ranting, he rambled to a halt, breathing unsteadily as his mood swung from angered to depression. As that was even less conductive to the other’s learning, the youth considered the possibility that it might be necessary for him to have the other teen treated as a manic-depressive individual. However, it was still too soon for him to make such a judgement and, so, he would have to persist regardless of Malfoy’s intransigence.
The youth considered their problem. “Your own situation aside, the typical goal of these classes is to educate children born and raised in a purely magical culture so that they may, if need be, exist comfortably and safely within a non-magical environment, is that correct?”
Reminded of his disgrace, Malfoy was torn between revived anger and deepening depression. The mixture made for a mood that allowed a facsimile of constructive participation in their conference. “So? What of it? That book is still shite. The entire course is rubbish and don’t think I don’t know that you’re enjoying rubbing my nose in it!”
The youth disregarded the continued accusations and contemplated the matter further. “Then that book is inadequate for your needs. You will require more accurate and forthcoming texts and, perhaps, a different approach is warranted.”
Malfoy’s glower became a look of startlement. “You agree with me? You agree with me?”
The youth allowed his lack of understanding show. “Excuse me?”
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I mean about the book, you agree that it’s a waste of good parchment?”
“Iie. No,” the youth corrected himself. Malfoy opened his mouth, presumably to argue the point, pointlessly to the youth’s mind since, obviously, the youth would know better what he meant than the other would. He forestalled the senseless argument promptly. “It is not a waste of parchment, it is simply not what we require.”
“Then what would it be good for?” Malfoy snapped snidely.
“As an example of how simple principles can be misconstrued when the one studying them does not have all the facts at hand,” the youth replied instantly. Such an example would have been useful to veteran analysts worldwide as they tried to train the next generation of rash and impressionable youth.
“Which is basically saying the same thing!” Malfoy declared. “Would it kill you to admit that I’m right?”
“Iie,” the youth responded.
Malfoy stared at him silently and the youth waited patiently for him to make his point. After a minute, Malfoy burst out, “Well?”
“What?”
“Say it!”
“Say what?”
“That I was right!”
“About what?”
“About the book of course!” Malfoy shrieked.
The youth noticed that they had garnered the attention of the rest of the Slytherin common room and was not appreciative. He directed an unamused glare at the loud blond as he replied, “You said the book was a waste of good parchment, it is not. Firstly, it is made of paper and, secondly, it could still serve several purposes and, thus, is not a waste.”
Malfoy also noticed the looks they were getting from the other students and, his recent disgrace in mind, lowered his voice several decibels but pursued the argument. “Could it have served the purpose it was published for?”
“That would depend on why it was published. I cannot be certain of the reason.” The youth had difficulty believing that it could actually to provide an accurate reference for schools and had devised several theories, a practical joke being one of the most prominent.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Malfoy hissed, his blue eyes filled with frustration.
“Iie,” the youth replied flatly.
Malfoy groaned. “Oh for Merlin’s sake! What else could it have been written for?”
“A hoax to mislead readers for either sinister or benign purposes, a mistake, a work of fiction misclassified, an encoded message, a vanity publication meant only for its mislead author,” the youth listed immediately.
Malfoy blinked and raised a hand. “Stop! You’re obviously missing the point!”
“Hn.”
“It’s being used, quite seriously, as a study aide for students attending muggle studies, right?”
“Aa.”
“Therefore, with that purpose in mind, it’s quite useless, right?”
The youth considered that for a moment and conceived two methods in which the book could be used for that particular task. “Iie.”
Malfoy regarded him in outrage. “What?”
“With the addition of another text to accentuate…” the youth started to explain only to be cut off by the irate fifth year.
“With another book? But that’s not what the situation now is! On its own, the book is useless, right?” Malfoy stopped and amended quickly, “In this situation.”
The youth granted him that. “Aa.”
Malfoy heaved a huge sigh. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along!”
“No it is not.”
“What?” Malfoy glared at him angrily. “It is so!”
“No,” the youth disagreed and repeated Malfoy’s exact words back to him, “You said, ‘it’s a waste of good parchment’ and ‘that book is still shite’.”
“But that’s what I meant!” Malfoy protested furiously, jumping to his feet.
“But it is not what you said,” the youth insisted coldly. The rest of the room was staring at them again and the youth was becoming impatient with the entire state of affairs.
“But it’s what I meant!” Malfoy repeated hotly.
The youth did not care. “Then you should have said so.”
“I should have killed you is what I should have done!” Malfoy shouted, his fists clenched tightly at his side. “Stuff sodding Azkaban, I should have just avada kedavraed you when I had the chance!”
The youth stared up at him stonily. If the larger teen was foolish enough to attempt to attack him again, the youth would, yet again, demonstrate that, with or without magic, he was not to be taken lightly.
Malfoy growled but did not push the argument into the physical realm. “Get a clue you retarded mudblood!” he snarled and then stalked off, the milling students parting quickly to allow him through.
The youth regarded his retreating back with frustration of his own and no little chagrin. He was irritated because Malfoy was obviously being irrational and temperamental but he knew that he could have handled the encounter more diplomatically. He knew that Malfoy was unstable and, yet, he had made very little attempt to accommodate for that. He was letting his own discontent show in his actions or, in other words, he was letting his emotions interfere negatively with the mission.
The youth contemplated that thought while he gathered his study materials, including the offending text. It was time for him to rethink his approach.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner that evening had been an uncomfortable state of affairs. Although the youth and Malfoy had been seated at almost opposite ends of the Slytherin table, the speculative stares of the other diners made for a tense atmosphere. Despite noticing every one of the measuring looks, the youth had not acknowledged one of them. He had simply fixed upon his stew and eaten efficiently, finished quickly and left early.
Now situated in the common room with one of his fellow first years, he was evaluating the several courses of action open to him. In the seat next to him, Ardagh was letting his unusual green gaze roam over the other Slytherins in amusement. “Well, Duo, for a first year, you certainly know how to stir the house up.”
The youth did not respond, not even to glance up at his younger acquaintance. A loud snort heralded the arrival of Beth, Mara, Robin Smythe and Gwen Bailwick, the latter two having joined the group as the first years had gradually polarised over the last month. There were those who had followed Draco Malfoy’s lead and railed against Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore and ‘mudbloods’, venting as much of their ill will on the one in their midst as the youth had allowed them.
Not surprisingly, the Malfoy faction included Lucifer Malfoy and Zaknafein but it also counted Michael Brown, Raven Darkholme, and Pietro Leinscherr as less vocal members. The unusual point about the split in the first years was not that it had happened but that it had happened so evenly and that the slight advantage in numbers actually went to the youth’s own small group of supporters. The inclusion of Beth and Ardagh’s family names and the youth’s own reputation meant that the upper years did not bother them as a group and so, unlike the rest of Slytherin house, the first years that had not agreed with the Malfoys had been relatively uninvolved in the actual civil war.
That had not been true for the rest of Slytherin where even those who might not have agreed with Malfoy had shown the appearance of support in an effort not to draw the antagonism of the others. This meant that Malfoy’s actions on Sunday night and the subsequent shifts in house politics were not so pronounced in the first years. Malfoy had suffered a loss of popularity but not enough for any of his rivals for the position to overthrow him as Slytherin ruler. The fact that, although he still professed to loathe the youth, Malfoy was suddenly spending a great deal of time, even so far as to go to meals with him, had surprised the rest of the house. That, despite his disgrace and subsequent withdrawal into himself, Malfoy still seemed to hold power over all of them, considerably bewildered the more introspective of the Slytherins. His new attitude had definitely confused his followers, making them more uncertain in turn. In other words, the rest of Slytherin, bar a far solitary fanatics and the youth’s own group of first year associates had taken to avoiding the youth at all times and being incredibly cautious around Malfoy.
The youth took a moment to examine his accidental coterie of supporters. They were young and still, for the most part, unformed. How he had managed to have them gathered around him perplexed him. That Beth and Ardagh were their unacknowledged leaders was understandable as they and the youth were not accurately even friends. The age gap was too great at this stage in their mental development to be surmounted but that did not prevent them from making him a strange meld of both patron and mascot.
“Duo’s done that since day one, Ardagh, or haven’t you noticed yet?” Beth Winton teased.
Ardagh rolled his eyes. “I’m not blind, Elizabeth.”
“Hardly that, oh mighty seer,” Mara agreed.
Ardagh pouted. For all of his intelligence and bearing, he was still a child and, at this moment, a male one being teased by an attractive girl. The youth observed their byplay absently, noticing that Ardagh was becoming increasingly flustered as not only Beth and Mara teased him but Gwen joined in as well. This was a deviation from their norm of a month ago where Ardagh had been virtually imperturbable by all such mocking, no matter who his mocker had been. While individuals such as Zaknafein, Lucifer, Pietro and even Robin, on occasion, could not cause the eleven-year old to loose his composure, one or more of the girls could with only a look.
The youth wondered if it was due to the expression of Ardagh maturing sexuality or if it had simply taken the pre-teen this long to feel secure with these individuals. If it was the former, then the youth could only observe the evolving group dynamics with detachment as it would be years before the chemical cocktails J had administered to him would allow his own hormones to be expressed as sexual arousal, not to mention he had a great many conditioned responses to overcome beforehand.
In the latter case, however, the youth could sympathise as he still found it difficult to allow his reserve to fade even around the twins, whose association he was expressly cultivating. The youth was concerned that the habitual emotional distance he maintained might not be correctable, despite his efforts to the contrary. To fail to find a way in which to breach that barrier between him and others, even if it was only with specific individuals at select moments, would mean he had failed in his purpose in attending Hogwarts.
Which returned his thoughts back to where they had been for the past three hours, Draco Malfoy and the youth’s task to tutor him.
“How,” he began, interrupting the squabbling, “Would I go about teaching you all about non-magical society?”
Mara blinked. “Huh?”
The youth understood that she was not asking him to repeat himself because she had not heard him but, rather, to explain his question because it made no sense to her. It was a distinction that he had not always understood. In truth, he had not always understood that the brief exclamation was a definitive query at all.
“You are all what is termed ‘pure-blooded’, correct? Does that place you all in a similar situation to Draco Malfoy’s? Could I not use your reactions as frameworks that will aide me in educating him?”
“Similar to Malfoy?” Beth spat, “I should hope not!”
“Bite your tongue!” Mara ordered simultaneously.
The youth would have frowned at the seemingly unconnected command had his growing dictionary of colloquialisms and slang not included the phrase already. He did allow his thick brows to draw together as he attempted to discern why his comment had caused them to react so emphatically. Surely they did not believe that he had inferred that any similarity was present in their behaviours rather than suggested as possible commonalities in their upbringings.
“The Malfoys are elitist, Duo,” Robin explained while both girls continued to gag dramatically.
“I am aware of that.” His voice was dryly amused, as was reasonable considering his undesired familiarity with Draco Malfoy’s opinions.
Ardagh coughed. “Yeah, you would be. But what Robin meant is that they tend to be a lot more fanatical than even most pureblood families about not allowing themselves to be tainted by muggles. Neither Draco Malfoy nor Lucifer have probably ever even seen a muggle, let alone been taught about them. I know for a fact that not all pureblood families are that segregated. I was raised in a wizarding household but we had muggle retainers as well as hearthwitches and house-elves. When I graduate from Hogwarts, I will be expected to finish my education in the muggle world by gaining a degree from one of their universities and how my parents raised me reflects that.”
“My family’s fortune is gained as much in the muggle world as in the wizarding,” Beth added, “We have homes in both. Sometimes I lived as a young witch, sometimes I pretended to be a muggle. I don’t remember a time when I couldn’t get by in both worlds.”
The youth absorbed this new information that, while interesting, would not give him the perspective he required. He looked to Mara, silently waiting for her to expand on the extent of cross mingling between magical and non magical societies in her own background.
She shrugged with what he classified as an apologetic expression. “Practically, I guess, I’m not really a pureblood because there are still muggles at my family reunions. Only third and fourth cousins, but they’re still family.”
The youth considered this the opportune moment to answer an old question. “Are you related to the Dragon Clan?”
“Dragon Clan? Me?” Her eyes were wide with surprise. “Of course not! Why would you ask that?”
“Your race and your surname,” the youth answered simply. “While both are common, I had wondered.”
Mara shook her head. “No, I’m not one of them. They’re old magic! My Chang ancestors were muggles who only married into magic back in my great grandparents’ generation.”
“You’re so weird sometimes, Duo,” Beth remarked, “You’re so dumb about some things like the way we grew up but you know about the Dragon Clan. Almost no one hears about them now.”
The youth had not considered that. In his initial searches, the Dragon Clan had featured prominently amongst the information retrieved but his searches had been focused in space where Wufei’s clan had been. If he had repeated those same searches on the Earth data-nets, the results would have been very different. It had not occurred to him to repeat identical searches in the two different environments. After coming to Earth, his requirements had been more focussed than they had been when he was on Chiron and treating the matter as a practical joke. His initial general inquiries would have inundated him with unnecessary information which was why his subsequent investigations had been more specific. Efficiency had been needed if he was to accomplish anything but that same efficiency had prevented him from making some interesting observations.
It was a frustrating paradox.
“Hn.” He focussed on Robin and Gwen. “How were the two of you raised in regards to the mixing of magical and non-magical cultures?”
The two of them exchanged glances. “’Bout the same, really,” Robin told him. “We’re not as bad as Malfoy, either one of them, but it’s not like either of us could go out amongst the muggles and pass for one, either. It’s not as if we don’t know anything, though.”
“It’s a bit like foreigners, I guess,” Gwen added. “I’ve never actually met anyone from Brazil, but I’ve heard a couple of stories. Some of them might be true and some probably aren’t. What I know about muggles is a bit like that, I reckon.”
“Hn.”
“So, what?” Beth asked curiously, “You think he should treat the muggle world like it was a foreign country? Just get Malfoy to pretend he’s going abroad for Christmas?”
“It could work,” Ardagh opined. “I mean think about it, what do you need to do when you go overseas?”
“Arrange for the necessary papers from the appropriate ministries,” Beth answered immediately.
“Sort out language charms,” Gwen added.
Mara nodded authoritively. “Yeah and make sure you have the right money, figure out how you’re getting about since you mightn’t be able to floo there or whatever.”
“If we’re talking about muggles, then you definitely won’t,” Beth retorted, poking Mara.
Mara sniffed but otherwise ignored it and went on to list, “You need appropriate clothes, accommodation and having an idea of the local manners and how to behave is a good idea. Think about it, Duo, what did you need to do to come to England?”
Dutifully, the youth ran through the mental check list he had made before returning to Earth. He had investigated the local politics and their recent history. He had created several cursory identities to use should it be necessary to interact with officials. He had moved Chiron to secure but more accessible coordinates. He had hacked security systems and arranged for blind spots to coordinate with his planned re-entry vectors. He had found several locations in which he could conceal Wing. He had scouted the location where he was going to meet his contact. He had done all of that and a hundred other security-conscious checks, implemented contingencies for every scenario he could extrapolate and initiated safe-guards for those that he could not.
His own experiences were not a good template off of which to mould a practical set of parameters. “Hn.” He comprised a mental list of their suggestions instead, documentation, communication, currency, transportation, appropriate attire and customs.
He was still uncertain as to how magical society regulated the greater part of what, in the real world, would have been a computerised bureaucracy that processed the life records of most individuals that were a part of that society. He would research that further, although it was obviously something he would need to go into with Malfoy as the blond would hardly be able to get by in the real world without knowledge of various ruling organisations and required paperwork. That meant his logical starting point would be communication.
“Duo?”
“Hn?”
Beth frowned at him and waved her hand in front of his face. The youth needed to restrain a small reflex reaction, which dissatisfied him, but he did not attack her for violating his personal space which was a small triumph, if one that seemed more difficult to win recently.
“Duo? Are you all right?”
“I am well,” he assured her.
She snorted again. “That’s not what I meant but it’s good to know. Will you be able to handle Malfoy now?”
The youth analysed what he already knew in light of the new approach that had been suggested to him. It promised higher probability of success than did persisting with the standard methods. With that in mind, it would now be a matter of modulating his own attitudes so that they would not, in conjunction with Malfoy’s, further deteriorate their already poor working relationship.
“I will need to apologise,” he decided.
He ignored the resultant disgust and outrage this roused in the others. Distasteful or not, it would be necessary. If he had not exacerbated the situation then he would not have needed to do this. That did not make the decision any more tolerable but it would serve as practice for when he next ordered Duo to be silent without regard to the braided pilot’s own feelings.
He did not expect that that would be any more pleasant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The apology proceeded similarly to what the youth anticipated. Using what he had observed of Malfoy’s personality he had waited until a time where there would be witnesses, even though it went against his own nature. The fifth year boys were all present in their dormitory, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe both already in bed, Theodore Nott digging through his trunk, Blaise Zambini reading on his covers and Malfoy was toying with his wand near his trunk. All four looked up in surprise when the youth entered, his presence while they were all awake being an anomaly. The youth was not deterred, this needed to be done, and continued until he was face to face with the blond.
Both Vincent and Gregory belated started to struggle out of their beds only to be stopped by a headshake from Malfoy. “What do you want, Mudblood?” he sneered.
“I wish to apologise,” the youth answered without a hint of his impatience with these games. There were many times, the entire past month especially, when he wondered if humanity was worth attempting to interact with at all.
Malfoy’s pointed face twisted. “Apologise? For what? Being an utter twit this afternoon of simply existing?”
“I apologise for deliberately misunderstanding you.”
“So you admit it!” the other stated viciously, “I knew that even you couldn’t be that obtuse! You were provoking me from the beginning because you knew I couldn’t retaliate! Hah and look at you now, Mudblood! Look at who’s crawling to who!”
“Iie,” the youth denied, unable to let such gross inaccuracy reside, “Initially, I did not understand what you were arguing about and, when I did, I acted counterproductively. For that, I apologise. I in no manner wished to belittle or humiliate you. “
“You do that by breathing, you mudblood scum!”
Malfoy was getting more vicious, his eyes growing wild and his pale complexion was starting to flush. The youth observed the transformation and the way the boy’s hand clenched tightly around the rowan wand. His mood was deteriorating much more quickly than it had that afternoon when the wand had not been in evidence.
“That is incorrect.” The youth returned coldly, watching the blond teen carefully. “Observe your own behaviour, you do this to yourself.”
“What? Are you implying that I can’t control myself?”
“Yes.”
The hand with the wand twitched and the youth tensed, prepared to move quickly should he be attacked. Fortunately they were interrupted before anything further could happen.
“Draco?” It was Blaise, perched on the end of his bed and ready to intervene should it become necessary.
Malfoy blinked and looked away from the youth, visibly calming as he did so. The youth noticed that and considered the possibility that he might have to arrange his separation from Malfoy in the case that he was only worsening whatever was wrong with the teen. Difficult, considering the fact that they were housemates, dorm mates and, in a manner of speaking, study partners but not even Professor Snape at his worse would keep throwing them together if he continued to trigger outbursts on Malfoy’s part. On the other hand, avoiding the problem would not solve it.
“Draco?” Blaise repeated, his voice blanker and less worried this time.
Malfoy blinked again and met Blaise’s eyes. “I… yes?”
“You okay?”
Malfoy nodded, “Yes, I’m fine…”
Blaise looked sceptical but did not argue. He glanced unobtrusively at the youth, attempting, the youth believed, to catch the youth’s own eyes but whatever the fifth year was trying to tell him was still beyond his ability to understand.
“Draco Malfoy?”
Malfoy shook his head slightly and looked back to the youth. His expression was bewildered and slightly shocked. The youth’s gaze flicked down to the wand but not as unobtrusively as he could have and Malfoy looked down, following the direction of his glance. The pale face tightened and the hand holding the wand loosened convulsively. The wooden stick clattered to the ground and rolled to a stop near the youth’s feet.
The youth crouched to pick it up, his eyes on Malfoy all the while. The wood felt cold in his hand, strange considering that it should have been warm from its owner’s body heat. The youth straightened and offered the wand back to Malfoy who hesitated before accepting it back.
“Shall we try again tomorrow?” he asked Malfoy, injecting what he hoped was an appropriate amount of challenge into his tone. The question of what they would be trying again the next day, he left ambiguous. He would allow Malfoy to decide how they would proceed.
Malfoy stared at his wand for a moment and then tossed it onto his bed. He looked back at the youth with a pale but decisive smirk.
“Draco Malfoy does not quit.”
There were several possible interpretations of that, as well. “Which means?”
“You’re impossible, Mudblood. A lost cause.”
Had he missed another obvious cue, then? “Hn.”
Malfoy rolled his eyes and sighed, loudly and obviously. The youth surmised that he was attempting to convey great patience and generosity. “It means that I’m not going to let muggles or a mudblood get the best of me. We’ll have another study session tomorrow, after dinner.”
“Aa.” He bowed slightly and turned on his heel and strode to the door. He hesitated briefly once he reached it and twisted enough so that he could address the group. “Oyasumi,” he bid them courteously and then left the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ashes and blood, that’s all that was left of the world and all that he had strived to protect within it.
The youth lay completely rigid in his bed. His breathing was ruthlessly controlled so that the loud gasps his body wanted to make were silent, deep breaths. He’d been asleep for less than an hour before the nightmare had awoken him with visions of death and destruction. It was only a little past midnight, the youth could still hear a couple of the more active seventh years girls talking in their own dormitory.
And Draco Malfoy was awake in his bed, watching him.
The youth opened his eyes and caught the gaze he had felt. There was no challenge or maliciousness in the blonde’s blue eyes, just a neutral scrutiny that lacked the threat of previous weeks. Without acknowledging him, Malfoy closed his eyes and rolled over. His breath evened in, first feigned and then genuine, sleep.
The youth listened to it, his mind agitated but wanting more downtime to recharge. Eventually, he forced himself back to sleep but it was unrestful fitful, haunted by more and worse dreams of things that had already happened and dreams of events yet to come.