Chapter Thirty of 'Wolf's Choice'- Gifts and Surprises
Chapter Twenty-Nine.
Title: Wolf’s Choice (30/60)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairing: Main story is gen, a few GoF canon pairings mentioned
Content Notes: AU of GoF, angst, gore, violence, torture, present tense, minor character death
Rating: PG-13
Summary: AU of GoF. Harry begins his summer with horrific visions that come true much faster than he was expecting. He’ll have to rely on his circle of friends, both his guardians, and all his allies to cope with the results.
Author’s Notes: This is a long fic that is a sequel to my fic Other People’s Choices. Make sure you read that first before you start this one.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Thirty-Gifts and Surprises
“How are you progressing in the task I gave you, Draco?”
For a moment, the ribbon that Draco is using to wrap the gift for his mother slips from his nerveless fingers. Then he turns around and manages to nod to his father. “So far, Potter doesn’t suspect a thing.”
“Good.” Father gives him a narrow smile as he shuts the door to Draco’s bedroom behind him. Draco used to be thrilled when Father did that. It meant they were going to talk privately, man-to-man. Now he wants to open a hole in the floor and drop himself down it. “You understand why I gave you that task?”
“It’s an important part of serving the Dark Lord.” But Draco’s voice wavers and a questioning tone creeps into it despite himself, because he’s really not sure.
Father senses that, and his mouth tightens before he sighs. “Yes.” He takes the chair in front of Draco’s vanity. “You must understand, son, that when true power arises, one serves that power before anything else.”
Draco blinks. That contradicts some lessons Father gave him in the past. “Even before the interests of the family?”
“The Malfoy family will be served by rising with that power. You have no idea how great it is.” Father’s eyes blaze. Draco has never seen him look like that before. “How great he will be, again. And I will stand at his side.”
“His most important Death Eater, Father?”
“Could it be otherwise?” Father laughs softly. “The combination of my blood, and my own power, and my loyalty, mean that. And do you see, Draco, that you will inherit my position when the time comes?”
What I thought was inheriting was leadership. You used to tell me that Malfoys bow to no one.
Draco only says, “But would the Dark Lord really grant me that position just for being your son, Father? Wouldn’t I have to do something to earn it?”
“Of course you would, but you would be more likely to inherit it anyway, simply because there is no other Death Eater who can match us. The Dark Lord was only temporarily defeated, Draco. He will rise again. And he has entrusted me with a secret that no one else knows. I will have your oath that it does not leave this room.”
“Of course, Father. I so swear,” Draco whispers. He wonders if he needs to get out his wand, if Father intends for them to perform an Unbreakable Vow.
But Father apparently only needs the smallest kind of promise, because he leans forwards, and his voice becomes lower and hoarse and excited. “He has told me that he is immortal. He cannot be defeated. When he regains a body, then he can continue on as if he had never been defeated.”
“Immortal,” Draco whispers, and prays that his father mistakes the shivers running through him for delight and wonder. “But-he didn’t tell you how? Are you sure that he will remain immortal?”
“You almost sound as if you doubt our Lord, Draco. “
“Of course not, Father! I am only thinking of the tales I read as a child, where immortal wizards would hide their hearts in a secret cave, and when the cave was uncovered or collapsed on the heart-”
Father laughs. “This is not a fairy tale, Draco, and our Lord is considerably stronger than you are giving him credit for. He would not be defeated so easily.”
“Of course,” Draco murmurs. He shivers again. He wonders if he will make it out of this room, if Father will let him take the news back to his friends. And then he wonders why he is thinking so intensely about betraying his family. He should be thinking about serving them, surely, and so serving the Dark Lord.
He should be.
But he cannot bring himself to do so.
“This is the moment when we know that we have made the right decision, and that some of our ancestors were wrong,” Father continues, which makes Draco feel a little shock right under his heart. Father used to tell him that all of their ancestors wanted to protect the Malfoy family and that all of them were right. “They sometimes wondered how best to promote themselves, or served a Dark Lord they believed would be the final one who would reign over the wizarding world for centuries. Now we have the Dark Lord who will reign into the future.”
Draco has never seen Father like this. It frightens him more than a little. But he gets through the rest of the interview by pretending to be interested and excited, and Father finally leaves him without making Draco actually swear the kind of oath that would mean he couldn’t tell anyone.
Draco collapses on his bed and stares out the window. There are grey clouds outside sifting down a little snow.
There are no answers there.
When someone knocks on his door again, Draco says, “Come in,” in a hoarse voice. He’s sure that it’s Father, coming back to actually make him swear that oath. In a way, it’s a relief. Draco won’t have to decide what to do if he can’t tell the truth to anyone else.
But it’s Mother who steps in and watches him intently for a moment before she draws her wand. Draco stares at her when he recognizes the motions she’s making as she casts a wordless spell. It’s one of the privacy wards that Harry made them learn in their study group.
“Now,” Mother says, and sits down in front of Draco. “What oath did your father make you swear?’
“He made me promise not to tell anyone what we discussed,” Draco whispers. His breathing is so fast that his head is spinning. “He didn’t actually make me swear a vow.”
Mother nods. “Good. Then we can make our own oath, and I can show you the amulet I’ve made that will prevent your father from Portkeying or Apparating you anywhere you don’t want to go, and alert me if you’re in danger.”
“I-what?”
“I’ve decided that your father’s intentions are dangerous and I’m not going to follow them. And neither are you.”
*
“Happy Christmas, Harry!”
Harry’s lost count of all the people who have said that to him today. But, other than his worries about Theo and Draco, it really does feel that way. Ron and Ginny and all the rest of the Weasleys are here, and Hermione, and even Blaise, who Harry didn’t think would get to come to Sirius’s house. Professor Snape stands in the corner with his arms folded. Harry doesn’t really expect any presents from him today. That’s going to wait for the mysterious party that Professor Snape wants to have on the thirty-first.
So far, Harry’s had a great day. There’s a huge fire in the hearth, and roasted chestnuts, and so many different kinds of pudding that Harry can’t even take a single bite of them all before he’s full. Hermione got him an incredible book on war tactics, and Harry’s wearing his latest Weasley jumper, which has a pocket where Lion can curl up and another one where he can keep treats for Chaos. Charlie’s there, especially to present a huge hunk of raw meat to Harry’s dragon.
Hermione, meanwhile, is deep in the set of Muggle books Harry found for her about perceptions of magic throughout the ages, and Ron is beaming over his own Quaffle. Blaise has already thanked Harry for the variant chessgame that is supposed to teach the person who plays it both better tactics and to notice small movements that another person might make, and is sprawled on the floor, intently watching the pieces move. Harry is currently eyeing the quills that Fred and George got him, which are self-inking. Useful, but then, with the twins, one never knows what else the quills are about to do.
“Happy Christmas, pup.”
Harry blinks at the wrapped potions flask that Remus is holding out to him. Near the wall, Professor Snape is standing upright, his eyes narrowed and his wand in his hand. “What? I thought the Defense books you got me earlier were the presents.”
“Who says that we can’t give you more than one gift?” Sirius asks. He’s grinning, almost hopping from foot to foot. “Besides, the last one was from both of us, and this is from Remus by himself.”
Professor Snape looks thunderous, but Harry isn’t about to ask him for permission to open his own bloody gifts. He takes a deep breath and unwraps the gold ribbon and then the red paper.
Inside is a flask that has a potion so thick and clear in it that Harry thinks it’s quartz at first. Only when he almost turns the flask upside-down does the potion suddenly shine and push against the cork. “It looks wonderful, but what does it do?” Harry wonders.
Remus gives him a sympathetic smile. “This is a potion that was invented before Wolfsbane was. It doesn’t ease the transformation, which is why they still had to invent Wolfsbane to have a real impact on lycanthropy. But it does make a werewolf less anxious and bloodthirsty when drunk.”
Harry relaxes. He can see why Remus thinks that might help with the agitation that he experiences near the full moons.
Or even just the agitation that he experiences on a daily basis. “Thanks, Remus.”
Remus hugs him, and then Snape comes over to take the flask away and examine the potion. Harry rolls his eyes a little, but lets him. It’s not as though he’ll ever let Harry take the potion until he does, anyway.
“How are you recovering from it, dear?”
Harry blinks and turns to Mrs. Weasley, who is hovering over him with another plate of biscuits. She immediately gives him the plate, and Harry picks out chocolate ones for himself and Chaos. Charlie said they were so small that they wouldn’t hurt her or interfere with her diet. “Fine? I mean, the scars don’t really hurt now.”
“No, dear, I mean, how are you recovering from killing Greyback?”
Harry is startled by the glares that Mrs. Weasley gets from all over the room. “I’m fine,” he says firmly. “I mean, it was Chaos that killed him. I wish he’d never been there and made me leave the school.”
“But it’s still a death.” Mrs. Weasley’s voice is low and warm, and she’s looking at Harry in so much worry that Harry thinks, She probably looks like that when someone falls off a broom. “You’re all right? No nightmares?”
Harry sighs with weariness. Is this another one of those things where she’ll think I’m horrible if I admit that it doesn’t bother me all that much? “Nightmares sometimes. Not really about that, though.”
Mrs. Weasley sniffles a little and pats his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay, dear. To think, that a nasty werewolf was allowed onto the grounds!” She catches Remus’s eye. “Nothing against you, of course, Remus.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Molly.”
Harry sits back on the couch and does what he can to blend into the furniture. Sirius ruffles his hair and Snape hands him his potions flask back and nods. “That potion is safe to drink with any amount of food or water,” he murmurs.
“D’you really think that we’d give him an unsafe potion, Snape?”
“Not deliberately,” Snape says, meeting Sirius’s eyes without flinching or changing the tone of his voice. He moves over to the wall again. Mrs. Weasley kept trying to get him to sit down earlier, but Harry isn’t really surprised that he won’t do it in Sirius’s house. That would be too much of a friendly gesture for them.
An owl abruptly comes winging through the window, making Harry blink and sit up. He sent some gifts to his other friends yesterday and received a few from them, too, but he didn’t think he’d get an owl today. Most people with families are probably busy with them, after all.
But then he recognizes the bird’s white-streaked black feathers, and snorts a little. Daphne did say that she would send me the draft of her oath the minute she finished it. He lets the owl land on his shoulder, where Lion hisses at it from his jumper pocket.
The parchment the owl carries is the oath itself, which Harry looks over carefully, shifting the letter pointedly to the side when Sirius tries to read over his shoulder. Sirius takes it in good part, thankfully, just ruffling his hair again and going off to the kitchen again.
For the term of a year and a day, I swear that I shall put Harry Potter’s interests before my own, that I shall stay loyal to him and all those working in his interests, and that I shall not harm him or those loyal to him save in defense of my own life.
Harry wonders for a moment why it took Daphne this long to write one simple sentence, but then he looks more closely at the oath and smiles a little. It’s not just the self-defense clause at the end. It’s also the fact that she doesn’t say who gets to define things like “Harry Potter’s interests.” That means she gets to. So she can act against someone who might believe that they’re doing something for his own good, but which she doesn’t think is.
It might include an adult.
Harry turns the oath over and writes, This is acceptable. We’ll swear it the first day we’re back at school. The owl snatches the parchment in its beak and soars out the window again.
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’re writing to that cute little Ravenclaw you took to the Yule Ball?” Sirius is back again, with a glass of butterbeer that he hands to Harry.
Harry takes it and sips it, shaking his head. “Luna is out of the country with her father right now. Looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, I think.”
“What?”
Harry laughs and tries to explain about the way that Luna and her father think of the world, and the rest of the party passes less uncomfortably, even when Chaos does eat some candles and then sets the carpet on fire.
*
Daphne sighs and tucks Harry’s message into the deepest part of her trunk. At least she knows now that she and Astoria are going to have protection from one side of the war and with the boy that Daphne increasingly thinks is going to end up winning the whole thing.
A rap comes on the door. From the rapid sound of it, Daphne knows it isn’t Astoria. She promptly touches the corner of her trunk, and activates the illusion spell that makes it an uninteresting cabinet.
“Come in, please.”
Her mother enters the room, her face pale and strange. She’s holding a letter in one hand. Daphne looks at it politely, even though her heart has started pounding faster than the knocking on her door.
“You will be transferring to Beauxbatons for the next school year.”
Daphne keeps herself from reacting except to frown a little. “Will we do all right if we enter in the middle of a term, Mother? There’s also the fact that my French isn’t the best, and Astoria barely speaks it.”
Mother looks up at last, away from the letter that seems to be commanding so much of her attention. “Oh. No, I didn’t mean that you will be going to Beauxbatons in January. In the autumn.”
Daphne nods, feeling a vast, silent relief move over her like an invisible waterfall. Not that she intends to transfer to Beauxbatons no matter what, but at least this gives her more time to work with. “May I ask why, Mother?”
“We have received word of the true extent of the Dark Lord’s power,” Mother says in a hushed voice. “It is too late for you to disassociate yourself completely from Harry Potter, but if we move you out of the country, the Dark Lord may forego taking revenge on you in favor of more pressing concerns.”
“I had not realized that the Dark Lord had grown so powerful.”
“You will do as you are told, Daphne.”
“Of course, Mother.” Daphne stores the fact in her mind that her mother took a simple question as evidence of disobedience. She will have to watch out for that, and for Astoria, who can’t really control her emotions as yet. But she also manages to turn a little to the side, as if acquiescing to what her mother said, and catch a glimpse of the seal on the letter.
Malfoy.
Daphne bows her head and waits until her mother is gone from the room. Then she curls her lip.
Draco probably has nothing to do with this. It’s likely his father, putting pressure on the Greengrasses to recruit for the Dark Lord.
But Daphne doesn’t care. She will claim her place. She will bring her sister with her, and she will walk away from their parents if they are going to be so weak as to allow fear to dictate their decisions.
And she intends to start living by the terms of her oath even before she swears it.
She goes to write a letter warning Harry of Malfoy’s move in the war, and to bribe a house-elf to carry the message. Clearly her owl is too distinctive.
Chapter Thirty-One.
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