[Children of the Sun]: A Door Into Hope, gen, PG-13, 17/?
Chapter Sixteen.
Part One.
Title: A Door Into Hope (17/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: None among main characters, background Lucius/Narcissa and Arthur/Molly
Content Notes: AU, angst, some violence
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry is mustering more and more support for the changes he wants to make in the wizarding world as he returns to Hogwarts after his first Christmas holiday. But as some people begin to believe he can make those changes, others see him as a threat.
Author’s Notes: This takes place in my Children of the Sun series after “The Secrets of Longbottom Manor.”
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Seventeen-Putting It Into Practice
“The question still arises: what are we going to do?”
Minerva nodded mournfully from her desk. Severus sat in front of her, slumped over and staring ahead, his hand on his viper as if he could coax Shadowstriker into acting as physical support along with moral support. Malkin paced next to Minerva’s desk, too angry to sit still.
“Publicizing Albus’s actions can’t result in further punishment for him,” Severus went on, his voice dull. “He’ll either stay in the Dream Labyrinth forever or he’ll come out a different person in any case, the kind who would never do something like this again. Talking about artificial familiars also doesn’t matter without more proof than we have, and the Medwyns and their allies are powerful enough that they could cause political trouble for the school. But we can’t let this go on, either.”
“There is something I thought to try.”
“What?” Severus lifted his head, trying to look as if he was hopeful. It was a far worse performance than most of his, and he knew it.
Minerva took out the fat book that had been in the shelf among Albus’s other tomes, not hidden like the ones on artificial familiars. Severus took it with a frown. “History of the Goldborn? I’ve read this, Minerva. It’s a collection of legends.”
“I know. But I spoke to Mr. Potter today, and he confirmed for me that he and Golden would be able to do at least one of the feats described in here.”
“Which one? That would still matter. And I am vowed to Mr. Potter and should know about such conversations.”
“You do know. I’m telling you,” Minerva pointed out dryly. “Mr. Potter said that he thought Golden could create, along with him, a magical aura that would single out artificial familiars.”
Severus let himself go on frowning. “Is that based on the legend of Merlin marking the familiars of his enemies when they had used an illusion spell to look like the familiars of his allies?”
Minerva smiled grimly. “So you are familiar with it. That will make it a little less clumsy to explain.”
Severus leaned forwards and looked straight into Minerva’s eyes. “I know that it depended on the followers of Merlin having absolute trust in him. Who has that much trust in Harry, outside of the people in this room?”
“That is the question, isn’t it,” Minerva said, with what Severus thought an infuriating lack of concern. “We need to build up people’s trust in Harry first, of course. Make people think of him as an ally, and trust in his abilities.”
Severus shook his head slowly. “It sounds too good to be true. And too simple. Why would marking out artificial familiars prevent the fallout?”
“I’m not seeking to prevent it, Severus.” Minerva clasped her hands in front of her and pressed them so tightly together that the knuckles whitened. “I’m seeking to manage it. I think we need that fallout-that wildfire, if you will. Choking it to death is not managing it.”
“You think-you think that other people need to know about artificial familiars and the way that Squib children have been transformed into wizards by them. And all the rest of it.”
“Yes.” Malkin gave his tail a lash to emphasize the point, something Severus was almost grateful for. Minerva was too quiet at the moment, gazing at him too directly. He had to fight not to look away, bronze though she was, silver though he was.
“Have you thought about what it might make people believe of Squibs? How it might set back their rights?”
Minerva’s mouth quivered then. “Speaking of causes I never thought you would care about, Severus.”
“Harry would care about it. And I am vowed to him.”
After a moment, Minerva acknowledged that point by inclining her head. “I know that. And that is one reason we need to carefully manage the spread of the news. But what I am more concerned with is what it will do to the hierarchy. What does it mean, if certain people can become wizards when they weren’t born that way? When certain wizards and witches can change the color of their familiars? Doesn’t that argue it’s not as immutable as we thought?”
Severus studied Minerva with fascination that he wouldn’t have admitted to himself. She was far more intelligent than he had thought all those years when she was in Albus’s shadow, or those years she had spent being fooled by the Marauders. “That-is possible. But the level of care and management it will take…can you do it?”
“Not with my duties as Headmistress of Hogwarts. But I know someone who can. Someone who has had extra understanding of our enemies grafted onto his native intelligence.”
“You cannot mean Quirinus.”
“But that is who I mean, Severus. He spent months, a year perhaps, with Voldemort’s mind floating within his, and Voldemort’s familiar floating inside his. He will understand what words could sway the pure-bloods who consider themselves ‘nobility’ as no one else could.”
“We are going to have to deal with everyone, Minerva. The ones who have bronze and copper and tin familiars, not just the silver ones. They all despise Squibs.”
“But there are more among them who are reasonable and prone to listen to that reason.” Minerva reached over and put her hand on Malkin’s back, probably because he was stalking back and forth on the desk and his claws looked almost ready to scrape up the wood. “Those are the ones that other people might be able to manage. The silverborn are the ones we’ll need Quirinus for.”
Severus looked away. Shadowstriker immediately tightened around his throat, and Minerva made a soft, concerned sound. “Are you well, Severus?”
“Not very,” Severus was able to admit hoarsely, looking back at her. “I think this is something that might actually work. And that fills me with hope-but it also means it would hurt more if we lose.”
“If we lose, we’ll try something else.”
“Why are you so optimistic, Minerva? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”
Minerva glanced at him, and Severus recoiled. Abruptly she had become the professor whose face coming around the corner had scared a generation of Slytherins into good behavior. “I’m angry, Severus, by the way that it turns out so many people in our society have used the Forbidden Arts for their own gain, and cut up familiars, and sacrificed them, and treated them like tools. This is the best way to making sure that doesn’t happen again.”
“I’m glad that we’re on the same side of the war, now.”
Minerva smiled, an expression that for some reason didn’t touch the anger in her eyes. “I think you would have always found your way here in the end, Severus. You’re too intelligent not to.”
Severus thought back on the loss of his friendship with Lily, and managed not to say anything.
*
“I think it’s interesting, dear, but I have to admit I don’t see how it matters to our struggle to free our son from Potter’s influence.”
“The rumors that are spreading in the Ministry are about Potter and his supposedly innate goodness, Lucius.” Narcissa let her hand dangle over the side of the chair so that Venus could lick it. The slow, rumbling purr of her familiar was soothing. “They say that he doesn’t want to maintain the hierarchy.”
“He’s already claimed that to you.” Lucius refused to look up from the letter he had received. Of course, they had always had their own private post, and Narcissa had received more than her share from hidden allies lately, but she was becoming impatient with Lucius’s refusal to pay attention to her.
Venus lunged across the floor and swatted at Hecate, who was lounging in front of the fire and had her neck lying along the back of Lucius’s chair. Hecate reared up and flapped her wings, hissing. Venus immediately trotted back to Narcissa’s side and lay down, her own tail flicking in smug delight.
Then again, Narcissa thought as she ran her fingers under her leopard’s chin and listened to her purr, all cats could be said to have that emotion.
“What are you doing, Narcissa?”
“Getting your attention.” Narcissa leaned back in her chair. “Whoever is spreading these rumors is a master at doing so. They seem to offer something for almost everyone. Harry Potter will offer power in our government to those with tin and copper familiars. He will raise those with bronze to be equal to us. And he will give the silverborn the ability to relax and stop ‘struggling to climb to the top.’”
Lucius narrowed his eyes, even as he soothed Hecate by trailing his fingers gently across one of her eye-ridges. “Do you think a large portion of those who matter are likely to believe him?”
“They may not believe it all, but there are some who will go along if it becomes the fashion, and some who will fear the power of their inferiors speaking with one voice.” Narcissa shook her head. “We need to stop this now.”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
“The voices of the public and the Wizengamot brought down one wizard with a golden familiar,” Narcissa pointed out, wondering if Lucius had gone simple in the last few months. It seemed that she was left to carry all the weight of her plots by herself. “They can do it again.”
*
“A lot depends on you being able to perform this spell.”
“I know, sir.”
Professor Quirrell stared steadily at Harry for a long moment, as if he thought he was lying or something. Then he nodded and grunted and stepped back with his arm resting on the chair where Alanna crouched, her eyes wide. “Try it now.”
Harry wrapped his arms around Golden. He waited until their breathing was coming in unison, and then he asked in Parseltongue, “Do you think we can do this?”
“I would not have said we should try unless I was certain,” said Golden, and poked him in the cheek with his snout.
Harry nodded and faced the captured mouse that sat in the chair next to Alanna. If he could do the magic correctly, it should make a glow surround the mouse, which was an artificial familiar, but not Alanna, who was a natural one.
He breathed out slowly and then released the pulse of magic at the same time as Golden reared up next to him and brushed his cool scales against Harry’s neck.
There was a long stab of light out from him, and it was so purely golden and bright that Harry wanted to shield his eyes. Professor Quirrell did do it, with a cry. But for some reason, Harry found himself seeing through the light, not being blinded, and he watched in wonder as it enveloped the two familiars on the chair.
The mouse sat solid and stone-like in its cage, staring straight ahead. Alanna shivered and scraped her muzzle with her paws. But then the light resolved, and a soft golden glow surrounded her.
“That is the opposite of what you were supposed to do, Mr. Potter,” Professor Quirrell began, but Harry nodded wordlessly past him at the mouse. Professor Quirrell turned around and seemed to have no words when he saw the dull black aura around the mouse.
“It did not sound like that would happen in the legend that Headmistress McGonagall had me read,” the professor whispered at last.
“I know, sir.” Harry sat down on the floor next to Golden, panting, his arm around his familiar’s neck. Even Golden seemed tired, if the way that he nudged and leaned against Harry was any indication. “But that’s what happened when I thought as hard as I could about trying to separate an artificial familiar from a natural one.”
“Do you think you could do this even if the room was full of familiars and you did not already know which one was which?”
Harry thought about it, although in the middle of the haze of exhaustion that had fallen over him, his mind seemed to be balky and slow. He finally nodded. “Yes, sir, I think so. It would take some really good rest and food the evening before, though. So I would be ready.”
Professor Quirrell didn’t quite smile-Harry had noticed that he rarely did-but his lips twitched. “That, Mr. Potter, can be arranged.” He stared at the glowing familiars on the chair again. “Yes,” he whispered. “We may have a weapon more potent than we realized.”
Chapter Eighteen.
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