Chapter Fifty-Eight of 'Wolf's Choice'- Uneasy Letters
Chapter Fifty-Seven.
Title: Wolf’s Choice (58/60)
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 Fifty-Eight-Uneasy Letters
“What did Draco have to say?”
Harry glances up at Theo, and then down at the letter folded in his hand. After a second, he shakes his head. There’s nothing threatening in the letter, but he doesn’t think it’s appropriate for Theo to read it. It’s pretty personal.
“I can’t tell you right now.”
“All right.” Theo shrugs easily and glances at his own left hand. Harry follows his gaze, convinced that he’s going to see a knife there or something, but instead, he finds a folded parchment. “Can I show you the strange letter that my father sent me?”
“Of course.” Harry sits up and puts Draco’s letter back in his robe pocket with only a fleeting thought as to why Theo wants Harry to read his post when he seems to be fine with Harry not letting him read his-
Because I’m his lord, or that’s what he would say. Harry hides his grimace and takes the letter, confident that Theo will have already checked it for traps of any kind. He smooths the parchment out on his knee and notes that the handwriting seems to be Tarquinius’s from other examples of it that he’s seen in the past.
The content, though, is utterly different from what he would expect.
My dear son,
I’ve spent so much time reflecting on what I want to say to you that it seems unbelievable I’m able to say it now. And I don’t know if you will accept my words. I do mean them sincerely, but I can see why you would think I didn’t. If you need more time to think about it, then take that time. I already know that you’re probably planning to take shelter somewhere else because of your distrust of me. I hope that you’ll allow me to communicate with you when you do that.
Murdering your mother was the worst decision I’ve ever made. I lost both a loyal and loving wife, and my son that day. I earned the punishment that you gave me, and my attempts to resist it only made me lose more.
While Lindanora was announced to be pregnant, that was false. She made the announcement because she was afraid of me and what would happen if she didn’t give me a child. But she also talked to me, and, I have to admit, used some magic on me, and that made me reconsider what I had done. It’s the reason I’m writing to you now. I’ve sworn a number of magical oaths that I won’t hurt you or her. You can write to her if you want independent confirmation of this.
Once again, I am sorry for my actions and all the useless attempts to shore them up that I’ve made over the past few years. I hope to see you at home at some point.
Tarquinius Nott.
Harry stares at the letter and then glances at Theo. “I can see why he might try to lure you back home, but would he do it this way?”
There’s a flash of a smile from Theo. Harry has hit on precisely the concerns Theo has, then. “No, he wouldn’t. This would read too much like a confession of weakness for him. He wouldn’t be able to discuss murdering my mother as a murder, instead of a punishment, or admit that his mind’s changed, or that my revenge might have been justified.” Theo takes the letter back and rolls it up into a small scroll that he sticks in his pocket. “So while I know it’s a plot, I don’t know exactly what he’s hoping to accomplish with it.”
“Maybe take you off your guard with a long game.”
“Yes. I’d still like to come to your house for the summer.”
“You’re always welcome, Theo, and I’ve cleared it with Professor Snape. Just come home with us from the Hogwarts Express.”
“I will.” Theo does something that Harry wishes he could pretend wasn’t a bow, and then turns and walks up the stairs. Harry sighs. He should go, too. It’s late, and Blaise and Crabbe and Goyle are already asleep.
But he can’t help taking Draco’s letter out and reading it one more time.
Harry,
I made mistakes, but I’m still upset with you. The reason I made so many mistakes is that I was upset I got left out. I only felt like I belonged one night, that night Dumbledore invaded Grmmauld Place and I got to fight him with you and Chaos. The rest of the time, it’s like I’m on the outside looking in.
What will it take for you to trust me more? What will it take for you to be my friend, the way you are so effortlessly with Granger and Weasley and Blaise and Theo?
Even Daphne gets more attention and importance than I do. And now I’ve lost my Manor. That’s something you probably haven’t heard about. Father ordered the house-elves not to admit or obey anyone except him. Well, it’s more complicated than that, but that’s essentially what it means. I have nowhere to live. Mother hasn’t said anything about moving to another place, so I’m still going to be in Grimmauld when you visit Black and Lupin here. I don’t know what to do.
I’m sorry. I never would have kept that information concealed if I’d known what Edgecombe and Karkaroff were really planning. And I know that you didn’t order Chaos to attack or kill Father. But I’m still upset. I kept the secret just because I wanted to know what it was like to be important, and now I don’t know that and I’ve cost myself so much.
Why can’t you just grant me your friendship without conditions?
Harry shuts his eyes. The letter’s better than he expected, not blaming him the way he thought a day ago Draco might have, and he aches for the fact that Draco’s lost his father and his home. But there’s still so much Draco doesn’t understand.
Well, at least Harry knows more about Draco’s motivations for keeping things like the Portkey secret than he did. And he’ll write back before they get to Grimmauld Place for the summer. The least he can do is be as honest as Draco was.
He just doesn’t know if Draco will understand even that honesty, if he thinks that Harry was leaving him out on purpose.
*
Draco is proud of himself for taking the letter from the owl, and even prouder for doing it with hands that don’t shake, and retreating to his room to read it instead of doing it in the Owlery. There’s a comfortable pillow propped beside him and a mug of hot chocolate that Kreacher was happy to get for him even if it’s too warm for such things.
He unfolds the letter and settles in to read something that’s probably going to be even more annoying than his last talk with Harry.
Dear Draco,
Thanks for explaining more about what you thought. I didn’t really understand why you would keep the Portkey secret, not really, but now I know more about it. And I’m sorry that you lost Malfoy Manor. That has to really hurt.
From what you said, you also felt left out. I’m sorry for that. However…
Draco lets out a slow breath. Here comes the part where Harry berates him. There was always going to be a “however,” because Harry doesn’t value him as much as other people.
But Draco reads on, because honestly he doesn’t have any other house to go to than Grimmauld Place, and that’s going to mean dealing with Harry sooner or later, if coming back to Hogwarts didn’t.
However, I don’t know how to read minds-yet-and I had no idea what was making you withdraw from me. Also, you seem to be thinking that I pick my friends based on how useful they can be to me, and you were talking in your letter like you think they’re going to be my, I don’t know, political allies in ten years. That’s probably the way Theo picks friends, true, and Blaise most of the time. But I pick friends based on who likes me, and who I can help, and who’s loyal to me. I can’t grant you a “more important” position than them just because maybe you can help me more. I want to be your friend. I can’t be your friend if you just think of me in terms of a political ally, or if you want me to get rid of all my other friends to prove that you’re important somehow. That’s not the way it works.
If you want to write back to me, or talk to me when I visit Sirius and Remus, that’s fine. If you want to ignore me for a little while, that’s fine, too. I’d want to be your friend without conditions, the way you said in your letter. But I do have some conditions. You can’t get upset if I spend time with other people, or if I laugh with them, or if I choose someone to do something you want to do. You can’t demand that I get rid of other people so you can be my most important friend.
And if you ever do something like this again, it’s the end. I know what happened now, and I know you didn’t mean to betray me. But if this is going to be a normal thing that happens whenever you get angry or upset with me, then I can’t trust you at my back. And I can’t trust you with the fight with Voldemort. And I can’t trust you to protect other people because maybe they annoyed you.
You get one accidental betrayal. You don’t get any on-purpose ones.
Harry.
Draco falls back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling. His chest seems to actually vibrate with the way his heart pounds.
It wasn’t-it wasn’t betrayal. It wasn’t something he meant. And anyway, what he did pales next to what Karkaroff and Edgecombe did.
Then Draco glances back at the letter again and swallows. Harry actually isn’t saying that he’s worse than Karkaroff or Edgecombe, Draco admits reluctantly to himself. He’s just saying that if Draco does this again, that’s the end of their friendship. And he’s saying that Draco has to tell him when he wants more of Harry’s attention, because he doesn’t know.
Draco clenches his hand in the sheets. Isn’t it obvious, though? Isn’t speaking up a Gryffindor thing to do? Harry’s been a Slytherin for two years now; he should know that they don’t go around blurting out their inmost thoughts all the time.
Draco rubs his eyes roughly and puts the letter aside. He’s too rattled to respond to it right now. Maybe later.
*
“I hope that everyone remembers, as you go forth from the school for a new life or for your summer holidays, that our world has changed.”
Theo keeps his head bowed a little, the way he did throughout Headmistress McGonagall’s speech about Voldemort. He watches from beneath his lowered eyelashes, and sees the angry, confused expressions on the faces of the majority of students.
He wants to shake his head. Most of the students don’t want to think life has changed and Voldemort is back. They want to think that the peace that started in 1981 is just the normal way life is and they’ll be able to go out and laugh at Muggles and shop in Diagon Alley and compete for worthless Ministry jobs the same way they “always” did.
Those people, Theo thinks, will be turning on Harry soon. They’ll decide that he’s a delusional liar or that the harbinger of bad news is the same as the bad news itself. Some of them might decide to attack Harry.
It doesn’t matter, though. Harry has people loyal to him, and Theo is only one. They’ll cooperate and manage to keep Harry safe. Maybe not popular, but even before he was in Slytherin, Harry wasn’t universally popular.
He needs to be alive, first. Everything else comes after that.
*
Minerva sorts through the stack of parchments in front of her. Some are threats by parents to remove students from Hogwarts, for all sorts of reasons: that Minerva made the speech about You-Know-Who’s return, that she didn’t make it earlier, that she’s “probably going to continue Dumbledore’s nonsense,” that she “might change things,” that she’s protecting Harry Potter from “the natural consequences of his actions,” and so on. Minerva just shakes her head over most of them. If parents make the decision to pull their children from Hogwarts, there’s not much she can do except wish them well.
Oh, and remind them that tuition already paid is not refundable.
Some of the letters are wishing personal support to her, which is pleasant, if probably useless in the total sum of things. A few are legal matters, concerned with such matters as the end of the Marietta Edgecombe affair or the upcoming trial of Igor Karkaroff. One is from the Bulgarian Minister for Magic, who helped organize the Tri-Wizard Tournament and is asking if anything related to it can be considered “legitimate” with only two Tasks and one of the Champions refusing to participate at all.
Those are variously hard and annoying to deal with, but Minerva will deal with them. It’s a different kind of conundrum that confronts her with the current parchment, though.
Dear Minerva,
I was shocked when it turned out that Albus fled from justice. It makes me feel as if I never really knew him, and that his priorities were probably very different from the ones he shared with us.
However, I absolutely believe Harry Potter when he talks about the return of You-Know-Who, and I believe something should be done about it. So, as the person who’s inherited Albus’s legacy, I want to know if you’re going to call the old crowd together again.
Molly Weasley.
Minerva sighs and regards the portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses on the wall as if they might have answers for her. Most of them are asleep, though, and even when they’re awake, are prone to more complaining about students decades dead than useful advice. At the moment, the only one who deigns to catch her eye is Phineas Nigellus Black.
And, of course, he has complaints.
“It just had to be another Gryffindor in this office, didn’t it? Not that I thought Albus would ever have the good sense to choose a Slytherin to follow him. But you could have imported something other than this red and gold color scheme.”
Minerva shakes her head. “You’ll be pleased to know that a Ravenclaw professor is my Deputy Headmaster, then.” Filius wasn’t that happy when she asked him, but they’re already working to hire another Transfiguration professor and Charms professor for next year so that their teaching duties aren’t balanced with their administration and Head of House duties.
“Slytherin, that’s what we need! Fight fire with fire!”
Minerva sighs and massages her forehead, where the headache that comes from conflicting duties is located. “Is this about the rumor that You-Know-Who is the last Slytherin because he can speak Parseltongue?”
“Rumor?” Phineas scoffs at her. “I knew him when he was a student here. It’s no rumor. It was a rumor that he found the Chamber of Secrets, but only because Armando doesn’t know how to look at what’s in front of him.”
Armando Dippet’s portrait scowls and starts to answer, but Minerva interrupts. “What do you mean? How can you have known You-Know-Who when he was a student?” She always assumed that that bastard had never attended Hogwarts, because someone who had couldn’t have helped loving the school, and that means that he would never have sought to destroy it.
“He was a student here like all the others!” Phineas draws himself upright. “Tom Marvolo Riddle, that was his name. He assumed that stupid pseudonym later, and totally destroyed his potential. Let me tell you, when I was Headmaster, I would have arranged a mentor to be assigned to him, and then maybe that potential-”
“But I know about Tom Riddle,” Minerva says, her own voice softly shocked. She can’t help it. She didn’t know Riddle directly, she was too young and only attended Hogwarts after he was gone, but the discussion about him was everywhere. “The most helpful prefect and the smartest Head Boy to ever come out of Slytherin, they said. I-you must have him mixed up with someone else.”
“Of course I don’t.” Phineas rolls his eyes. “I had to listen to enough disagreements between Armando and Albus about the little git. You know you trusted him too much, Armando. And then he came back and wanted the Defense job here, and Albus said no, and that was when he cursed the post. What I don’t understand is why more people don’t know his name. If Albus had publicized it, he would have lost some of those fools who only want to follow a pure-blood.”
“He’s-not?”
“Half-blood, from what I heard,” Phineas says offhandedly. He’s busy trading glares with the portrait of Armando Dippet. “Yes, probably of Slytherin’s line since he can speak to snakes, but he was raised in the Muggle world, wasn’t he, and a surname like Riddle? Half-blood at best.”
Minerva sits back in her chair, taking a shaky breath, while the portraits start bickering. She doesn’t know why Albus never publicized this, either, but she can use it. She can definitely use it.
And it’s given her a solution to one of her other problems.
She turns back to Molly’s letter and begins writing.
I do plan to do something, Molly. I agree that You-Know-Who cannot go unopposed. But the old crowd is so diminished that simply involving the people we involved before is unlikely to do anything. What do you think about delving into history?
Chapter Fifty-Nine.