Chapter Fifty-One of 'Wolf's Choice'- Scorched Earth
Chapter Fifty.
Title: Wolf’s Choice (51/60)
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-One-Scorched Earth
“Get out of here.”
Draco pauses in the door of the hospital wing with his heart beating so hard inside his throat that it feels like he’s going to throw up. He watches as Professor Snape bends over Harry and feeds him some sort of thick green potion Draco doesn’t know. There are flecks of gold in it like seeds. Harry swallows, staring straight ahead. Draco finds himself shifting around so that he’s not right in the path of that gaze.
It’s…vacant.
“What do you want, Draco?” Professor Snape asks, turning around with one hand resting on Harry’s chest, when Draco doesn’t leave.
“I-I need to know if my father was there.” It feels like the bravest thing Draco has ever done is edge a little into the room and towards the bed. “He wrote in his letter that he was helping the Dark Lord, and if-this was something to do with the Dark Lord, I know it was! I need to know if he was there.”
Harry makes a motion inside the blankets, and Professor Snape snarls something at him. But Harry keeps sitting up, and Draco flinches despite himself as those empty eyes look at him.
“You shouldn’t have to do this, Harry.”
“But Draco deserves to know.” Harry’s voice is also hollow and distant, the way Draco imagines it would be if he was uttering a prophecy. “Your father was there, Draco. But he died when Chaos breathed fire at him.”
The silence is so great, inside and out, that Draco’s head feels muffled. He tucks his shaking hands behind his back. “You let-you let your dragon murder him?” he whispers.
Harry flinches back from him at the same time as Professor Snape whirls around. His wand in his hand. “It had nothing to do with murder,” he snaps. “Chaos went to save Harry, and your father was one of the men who was tormenting him. Now he is dead for his folly. Get out of here, Draco.”
“You killed him,” Draco says, staring at Harry, unable to think anything else. “You could have called Chaos off him, and you didn’t.”
“And your father could have chosen to do something other than flay Harry again and again so the Dark Lord could feed on his skin, but he did not,” Professor Snape says. His voice is low and deadly, and black sparks along his limbs. Draco looks at him without fear. The worst has already happened. “Leave, Draco.”
“I’m going to demand justice for this murder,” Draco says, his voice light and distant and his head still full of floating darkness.
“I would not,” Professor Snape says. The blackness has stopped dancing around him when Draco looks at him. Harry’s hand is resting on his arm, which is probably what made him stop. Not that he would join Draco in seeking justice, Draco thinks, detached. “Then it would come out that your father died in the middle of acting as a Death Eater, the only one at Voldemort’s side, torturing the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“There has to be justice,” Draco continues, leaning past Professor Snape so he can see Harry. “You understand that, right? Chaos has to be put down for killing a wizard-”
“Chaos is gone.”
Draco flinches despite himself at the sound of Harry’s voice. “Then you’ll have to call her back!” he shouts, trying to hold onto his anger. “Call her back and turn her over to the Dragon-Keepers and the-”
“She’s gone,” Harry repeats. “She sacrificed herself. Turned into fire and light so she could fly to me and rescue me, and then she turned further into fire and light and just left.”
Draco blinks, remembering the immense burst of golden light that flared through the sky shortly before Professor Snape went running down the path to Hogsmeade. He supposes it could be true.
It could. On the other hand, it could be a lie that Harry is making up to try and spare Chaos from getting in trouble.
“I’m going to make sure of this,” he says as haughtily as he can. “Ask Mr. Weasley if a dragon really can do that, and why one would.”
“Do that. As long as you leave.”
The air has literally chilled around Draco, which makes him blink and look at Professor Snape again. He flinches back from what he sees there, what is looking at him through the man’s dark eyes.
He makes himself turn and walk calmly away from the hospital wing, though, ignoring the sharp prickling down his spine. He deserves answers. And he doesn’t think he’s going to get them from Harry and Professor Snape right now.
But he will demand them from Weasley. Because if Chaos killed his father and Harry is just attempting to hide her from justice so that he can do whatever he likes…
He’s just going to wish he hadn’t. That’s all.
*
Severus turns back to Harry once Draco has left the hospital wing. He’s aching because he knows no potion will solve this. Harry has been staring vacantly at the wall for nearly an hour now, answering Severus’s questions but with some essential piece of him missing.
Severus knows it’s Chaos. He knows she won’t come back. Which doesn’t tell him how to treat Harry or what to do next.
When in doubt, do what you can, Severus thinks. Harry is still in pain from the repeated skinning spells that Severus saw when Madam Pomfrey cast a few detection charms on him. He gets up to go for a pain potion.
“Severus.”
And then he turns and sits back down on the bed, because that’s one of the few times that Harry has addressed him voluntarily since returning. “Yes?” he asks, and takes Harry’s hand when the cold one gropes for his.
“I-I want you to do something for me.”
“Anything.” Severus thinks he’ll keep his promises simple for now. Harry shouldn’t have to sort his way through complicated concepts and political strategies of the kind some people expect from Slytherins.
“Make sure that Marietta Edgecombe receives justice.”
“I think she has already been arrested, Harry.” Or the version of arrest that happens with underage students, at least. Severus doubts she’ll spend any time in Azkaban or even that her family will be fined, but it’s highly likely that her wand will be snapped and she’ll be expelled, or that her magic will be bound to the point that she can’t use any higher-order spells for five years, which is as good as an expulsion. A lot will depend on what she knew about that blasted Portkey.
Harry takes a shallow, difficult breath. “I mean justice. Not vengeance.”
“I do not think the Aurors will take vengeance on her. And she is beyond the reach of people who would do that in this school as long as she’s at the Ministry.”
“Please-please get a fair trial for her.”
“I am not a solicitor,” Severus snaps, and then takes a deep breath. The last thing he wants is to upset Harry. On the other hand, he is also not going to spend his time indulging Harry’s ridiculous desire to save people. “I am not going to oppose whoever her solicitor is. I am not going to mention her to those who don’t already know. But I am not going to refuse to testify if I am called in, and I won’t hide my knowledge of what she did. You cannot ask that of me, Harry. No.”
“I wasn’t-I just want her to have justice. A fair trial.”
Severus shrugs. “I assume they’ll put me under Veritaserum for a trial as important as this. I won’t be able to say anything too biased about her even though I’ll want to.”
Harry hesitates for a moment, his hands twisting through complicated patterns. “And Karkaroff?”
“The Aurors have arrested him, as well.” Severus honestly doesn’t give much for the man’s chances. Now that Voldemort has returned, there’s every likelihood that “former” Death Eaters in the Ministry will end Igor’s life soon enough. “He’ll go on trial to see what he knows about the Portkey.”
“I-I don’t really want him punished, either.”
“Why?” Severus demands harshly. He knows Harry is hurting, and so he tries to moderate his voice when the boy flinches, but he has to know. “Why are you so intent on defending those who hurt you and caused you to lose your dragon?”
Harry closes his eyes. “Because there’s been enough pain and death tonight. Why should there have to be more?”
Severus bites back several replies. “Edgecombe and Karkaroff are not going to be put to death, Harry,” he says, and decides that he will keep the knowledge of Igor’s probable fate to himself. “You do not have to worry about that, or take the responsibility for their lives onto yourself.”
Harry lets out a painful breath. “But if I could do something to save them and didn’t-”
“Even if you refused to testify about what happened when the Portkey landed you in the forest, enough people saw Edgecombe hand it to you and Karkaroff admitting to knowledge of it that they would be questioned,” Severus says. He trims back the harshness even more and Summons the pain-killing potion he was originally going to go in search of. “And if they are not punished, what do you think will happen?”
“Two more people will be happier than they are right now?”
Severus snorts as he watches Harry swallow the potion. “Other people would think you weak and vulnerable to attack. They would try more ambushes like the Portkey, and sooner or later, one of them would succeed. We do not need to kill your enemies outside of open battle, but we do need to make absolutely sure that everyone knows you are not to be trifled with.”
“I tried,” Harry whispers, not opening his eyes even though Severus knows he is not on the verge of sleep. “I tried to make Edgecombe back down by telling her what I knew about that article she was involved in. That didn’t work, did it?”
“No, it did not.” Severus makes his voice gentler as he helps Harry lean against the pillows. “Some people are so stubborn that they truly never learn without consequences. Edgecombe and Karkaroff strike me as two of those.”
“I wish I could have saved Mr. Malfoy,” Harry whispers, his head lolling to the side. “Then Draco wouldn’t hate me.” And he’s gone into the realm of sleep.
Severus closes his eyes and says nothing for a long moment. Then he stands and goes to the Floo to, again, try to make a call to Black and Lupin. The first one found no one in the house except a single elf. They deserve to know what happened.
And it will keep his mind off certain things that he wishes he had control over and does not.
*
Charlie Weasley is leaning back against the outer wall of Hogwarts, his gaze trained on the ashes that he collected from the Hogsmeade trail where Harry was standing.
He never knew-no, of course he’s heard of such things. Mother dragons sometimes do such things in defense of their children, sometimes against Dragon-Keepers. But few have witnessed them, and no one has ever thought that a dragon would do such a thing in defense of a human.
“Mr. Weasley,” says a voice that sounds vaguely familiar, and Charlie lifts his head and blinks at the kid standing in front of him. He has that smooth face and pale skin Charlie associates with Malfoys. “I have to ask you a question. The answer is very important.”
Charlie shrugs and waits for the question. At the moment, with his mind still seared with awe, he doesn’t really care what the kid asks.
“I want to know If Chaos is really gone, or if she’s flown away and hid somewhere,” the Malfoy says, stepping closer. Now that Charlie thinks about it, he’s seen the boy around before, usually near Harry. “Because she killed my father tonight, and if Harry is hiding her, then I want her to come back so that she can face justice.”
Charlie snorts, because he can’t help it. The kid’s face turns pink like a Muggle sweet.
“You’re making fun of my father’s death?” he asks sharply.
Charlie shakes his head. “Of course not. Just-you saw what happened, didn’t you? That light in the sky? That means she’s gone. And so is the bond that she had with Harry. What do you think that’s going to do to him?”
“I demand to be told if she is gone.”
“Of course she is,” Charlie snaps, abruptly tired of this. He wants to be left alone to wonder and mourn, and think of how he’s going to explain this to the Keepers back at the reservation. “And anyway, she couldn’t be tried in a court of law even if she was still alive. She was a dragon. There are provisions for containing or killing magical creatures who hurt wizards, but not trying them-because they aren’t considered intelligent enough for the honor.”
“She would have been.”
Charlie shrugs. “Then prove that you’re at least as smart as her, and don’t ask stupid questions like that. She’s gone. I think Harry is your friend, right? So when you’re ready, give him your support.”
“What am I supposed to do about my father’s death?”
“I have no idea.” Charlie tries to gentle his voice, because he knows the Malfoy kid is just a kid. It irritates him to see someone who has no idea what a gift Chaos was try to claim she should be killed, though, and that someone must be lying about her death. “I hope you can come to some peace soon.”
Malfoy turns and stomps away. Charlie sighs and stares at the ash in his fingers again. He’s going to have to send it back to the reservations so they can analyze it, even though he knows perfectly well what happened. Then they’ll probably debate for years about what made a young dragon bond to and sacrifice herself for a human that way.
Charlie knows perfectly well what he thinks: that dragons are smarter than anyone gives them credit for, and that they can make choices. But so many people are invested in thinking of dragons as creatures, and creatures as lesser beings, that few people are going to believe him.
His gaze wanders up to the stars. He hopes that there is something of light left in the darkness, and that Chaos can shine down on all of them, if she’s still there.
*
“How is he, sir?’
“Resting.”
Professor Snape’s voice is harsh, and Theo knows why. The man doesn’t want to be questioned right now, and he already had to deal with Harry being tortured and the aftermath of that. And Theo saw Draco on his way to the hospital wing earlier. Theo shook his head and kept out of the way. He doesn’t want anything to do with that mess.
Even if Draco did partially cause it, and even though part of Theo has frozen with anger and may never unfreeze, it isn’t his right or his place to do anything about it. Harry wouldn’t want Draco persecuted, and Harry is his lord.
“What do you want me to do?” Theo asks, because Professor Snape sought him out in the Slytherin common room. Theo sits up as the professor raises some privacy charms around them that make the air sparkle as if it’s lit with frost.
Professor Snape sits down and stares at him, and Theo stares back, his eyebrows rising a little when the staring contest just goes on and on. Professor Snape snorts a second later and sits back.
“I want you to defend Harry,” he says. “From reporters and people who just want to question him instead of asking how he is, and from his own grief. I-need to sleep. Black and Lupin will be here soon, and they can relieve you, but right now, the Ministry has shut down the Floos and the Apparition points around the school. I think they want to control the flow of information about Voldemort.”
Theo nods. It’s useless, given the number of owls that would have left the school in the hour after Harry disappeared, but that’s the kind of thing the Ministry would do. “All right, sir. Will Madam Pomfrey let me stay in the hospital wing?”
“She will not have a choice.”
Theo pauses at the anger looking at him out of Professor Snape’s eyes, and nods. “All right, sir. I’ll go up. Have a good night.”
Professor Snape cancels the privacy charms and strides out of the common room. Theo gets up and grabs his wand, then makes sure that his knives are in place. Blaise and Daphne are beside him in seconds.
“What is going on?” Daphne demands with a little hiss.
“I want to help,” Blaise says.
“Professor Snape has to rest so that he can do some good tomorrow, and he wants me to guard Harry,” Theo says, his head slightly bowed so that he can murmur the words and they’re less likely to be heard elsewhere. He would cast another privacy charm, but honestly, he wants to save all his magic for defending Harry. “He was tortured. There are people in this bloody school who would just go in to gawk at him or wake him up to answer questions. So I’m going to guard him.”
“I want to help,” Blaise insists again.
Theo shakes his head. “I think Professor Snape spoke with Madam Pomfrey about letting me stay, but there’s no guarantee that she would let you sit in there, too. Stay here, Blaise. Try to-if someone comes in and starts making a fuss about Harry, try to quell it.”
“And do you have some task for me, too?”
Daphne sounds sarcastic, but Theo knows she isn’t. She would actually like something to do. He glances sideways at her. “You know there’s going to be some kind of trial for Headmaster Karkaroff and Edgecombe.” She nods. “It could be that the Durmstrang students are careless and shocked right now, and not watching their tongues.”
Daphne smiles and flips her hair in a way that makes her look more brainless than a Death Eater. “Consider it done.”
Theo nods at her as they leave the common room together, and Daphne fastens a brainless expression on her face and bounces away in the direction of the entrance hall. Theo knows she’s perfected that not to survive students at Hogwarts but her parents, who tend to have too high an opinion of themselves to want to be bothered by a child’s intelligence.
It’s a problem that Theo is rather familiar with, himself.
Theo half-smiles as he enters the hospital wing. Granger and Weasley are there, talking in quiet voices on chairs next to Harry’s bed. Theo nods to them and pulls up his own chair, watching Harry’s face without speaking.
Harry has never looked as pale as he does right now, not even when he was watching the beast Theo’s father summoned to take him from the Hogwarts Express. Theo sighs. He would give a lot to prevent what happened, but since he can’t help Harry that way, he’ll sit here and watch.
“Nott?”
Theo glances up and nods. They’re largely past surnames when they’re in Harry’s presence, but right now he’s not here, so to speak. “Granger. What is it?”
“Will-will you be staying with him all night?”
“Yes.”
“What will you do if someone comes in who’s not supposed to be here?”
“Get rid of them.”
Granger and Weasley exchange one of those speaking looks that sometimes makes Theo regret his lack of close friends other than Harry. He’s not close enough with Blaise to communicate like that all the time. Then she nods at him, clenching her jaw. “Good. Harry’s had enough trouble right now.”
“Defend him,” Weasley says in a low, deadly voice that makes Theo look at him with more respect. Gryffindors can be fierce in defense when they need to; they just don’t bother to do it often enough. “I don’t care what you have to do. If Edgecombe or one of those Ravenclaws Edgecombe calls friends come up here...”
“I’ll hurt them,” Theo says quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”
Those kinds of declarations usually make Gryffindors look as if they’re about to faint, but Weasley smiles and Granger looks a little more murderous. “Good,” she repeats, and squeezes Harry’s hand once before they leave.
Theo waits until they’re gone, and until even the small bustling noise that Madam Pomfrey is making towards the back of the hospital wing has died down. Then he leans forwards and whispers to the sleeping Harry.
“Something like that isn’t going to happen to you again. Ever.”
And he sits back to help make it so.
Chapter Fifty-Two.
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