Chapter Eighty-Nine of 'A Brother to Basilisks'- The Race Begins
Chapter Eighty-Eight.
Title: A Brother to Basilisks (89/?)
Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.
Pairings: Eventual Harry/Draco and Ron/Hermione
Warnings: Angst, violence, some gore, AU from Prisoner of Azkaban onwards
Rating: R
Summary: AU of PoA. Harry wakes in the night to a voice calling him from somewhere in the castle-and when he follows it, everything changes. Updated every Friday.
Author’s Notes: This is a canon-divergent AU that starts after Chapter 7 of Prisoner of Azkaban. It will probably run to at least the mid-point of The Half-Blood Prince. It will also be long.
Chapter One.
Thank you again for all the reviews!
Chapter Eighty-Nine--The Race Begins
Draco tried his best not to look tired and bedraggled as he stood in front of the Floo in Professor Snape's quarters. The door had been left a little unlocked when Snape had sprinted out of it, and Draco thought it better than trying the common room fire this time of night, with news this sensitive.
It took longer than Draco had thought for one of the house-elves to fetch Father, and Draco used the time to smooth down his hair and try to breathe normally. Not that his breathing didn't speed up again when Father's face, pale and smooth, appeared in the fire.
"What is it, Draco?"
"After Professor Snape contacted you earlier, the Dark Lord took Harry into his mind," Draco said relentlessly. Even though he felt awful about everything that had happened, he did have to admit a little surge of pleasure as he watched Father's lips part. "He came back. I know that. He took part of Harry's soul to do it." Father shivered. "But then he made a mistake. He tried to command Dash. He thought he could have part of the bond because he had part of Harry's soul. But Dash got himself free, and he freed Harry."
"Then we have chosen the right side--"
"There's one thing more."
The way Father looked at him now made a low thrill come to life in Draco's belly. Yes, yes, he could do this. He might want to follow the path of politics after all, which he hadn't always been sure of when he watched Father slave away.
He drew a deep breath and said, "Dash gave Harry part of his soul to repair the damage the Dark Lord caused. Harry saw into his soul somehow--I'm still not clear on that. And he saw who Dash used to be."
Father looked poised on the edge of a cliff. Draco smiled at him and said, "Salazar Slytherin."
"Of course," Father said, in a low, dreamy voice. "The basilisk, the extraordinary basilisk, and not the child who waited until thirteen to show that anything remarkable would happen around him. Of course."
"I think Harry is plenty remarkable."
Father seemed to be hiding a smile as he looked back at Draco, but at least Draco thought it was a smile of pleasure and not a condescending one. "I tend to agree. Did Harry say how he recognized Slytherin?"
He hadn't, but now that Draco thought about it, it was easy enough to figure out. Rumors about the Chamber of Secrets had trickled outwards from conversations people had overheard between Harry and his friends, before Dash or Draco were there. "I think there's probably a statue of Salazar Slytherin in the Chamber of Secrets. And Harry could have seen its face, and then the face in Dash's soul."
Father gave another long sigh. "You are probably right, Draco. You are thinking, not yet concluding, but you are probably right."
That made Draco feel as though he might burst from happiness. He opened his mouth to continue, but Father abruptly lifted his head. "Where are you now?"
"Professor Snape's quarters. He's still with Harry in the hospital wing."
"Tell no one else of this, Draco. Leave it up to me to spread the news. I am the one who will be the best conduit."
"But Professor Snape thinks we ought to tell lots of people. And at least Harry's allies like the Selwyns are going to want to know, because they already think he is Slytherin."
“And we will tell lots of people.” Draco had never seen Father’s eyes like that, heavy and glowing. He remembered Mother telling him once that Father was like a cat. Draco had never agreed, because he thought Father was most like a snake, but now he could see it. “But I am the conduit. I am the one who will do it.”
“I know what you mean,” Draco muttered. He hesitated, and then decided he might as well tell Father his worries. “But I’m not the only one who knows. And Professor Snape might start contacting people in the morning.”
“It will not be now?”
“No. Harry’s exhausted. I’m sure Professor Snape is going to stay in the hospital wing the rest of the night and make sure nothing else attacks him.”
“Then I will be fast enough.” Father chuckled, and there was a spark of pure excitement in his face that Draco remembered seeing in the mirror when he was still working on trying to get Parseltongue. “I will tell them.”
“Professor Snape said we had to be careful, because people are going to hate Harry when they hear about the way Dumbledore died-”
“Do I strike you as a careless politician or even a careless mouthpiece, Draco? Tell me the truth.”
Draco flinched. He hated when Father asked questions like that. Telling the truth made him sound stupid; lying made him sound childish. He sighed and gave in. “No, Father.”
“Then trust me to spread the truth in a way that will ensure a hero’s welcome of Mr. Potter.” Father had that cat-look again. “I will go and begin now. Sleep well, Draco. The world is going to be a very different place in the morning.”
Or that’s what we hope, anyway, Draco thought, and said good night, and closed the Floo. Then he began the long task of dragging himself back to the Slytherin common room.
He didn’t want to, honestly. He wanted to go back to the hospital wing and be there first thing in the morning when Harry and Dash woke up. But on the other hand, Dash might sleep for a day, and Harry wouldn’t wake up before morning with that potion Professor Snape had given him. Draco might as well do what he could so someone would have a clear head for their next conversation.
*
Lucius felt as though someone had filled his head with clear sunlight that had burned off the fog. He stood before the fireplace for a long moment, the sole still place in a turning universe, and then he laughed.
Then he went and began to make a list of the things he would need to do, the people he would need to contact, in order to change the world.
There was the device he had found that could free someone from the dominion of the Dark Marks. He had worked carefully on it so far, fitting in odd half-hours around his other business. He hardly wanted to experiment recklessly with something that might give him his freedom, but also needed to be tuned carefully with blood and runes.
That project must go to the top of the list now. With the Dark Lord back, he and Severus could not risk being called and turned against their families.
Rather odd to think of Severus having a family, Lucius thought, shaking his head as he began to write the list of names in the order he would Floo them. I know his parents are dead and he never had a desire for children. But I am not sure what else one would call the Potter boy.
And as both Potter’s legal guardian and the adult with the most direct access to him, Severus would have to be petted and soothed and courted. Lucius could not set the matter aside and hope it would take care of itself. He would be free of the Dark Mark, and he would, perhaps, be inclined to listen to someone who had done him so handsome a favor.
Lucius had a half-smile on his face as he finished working his way through the list and stepped back a moment to study it. Then he nodded. Of course, he knew the person who would have to be informed the soonest was the one who shared a house with him.
He left the firelit room the house-elves had summoned him to and returned to the bedchamber he shared with Narcissa. They had their own suites when they wished to be alone, but they’d felt like being together tonight.
Lucius opened the door and spent a moment watching the firelight fall on his wife’s still face. She had porcelain features, and even in sleep, they never seemed to relax completely, and her blonde hair never seemed tumbled the way some other women’s would become.
Once, when they were first married, she had made Lucius uneasy. He hadn’t known if he could share his life with someone who was always poised and perfect. He was so only in public.
But that was before Narcissa had learned to trust him enough to let her guard down and show him her true self. Once she had, then Lucius had let such fears drift away to the misty land they deserved to be banished to.
“What is it, Lucius?”
And that was another reason he had to love her. She had probably been awake from the moment he opened the door, but she hadn’t moved until now, until she had decided that he wasn’t coming back to the bed and her. She rolled over now and regarded him with soft slitted eyes, her hands drawn up to her chest like a cat’s forepaws.
“Remarkable news,” Lucius said softly, and went to sit beside her. For a moment, one of Narcissa’s hands curved as if she wanted her wand, and then Lucius took it and gently uncurled her fingers, smoothing his hands up and down her palm.
“What is it?” she asked again, and tilted her head back so that the fire flickered on the unbound glory of her hair.
Lucius leaned over and gently kissed her, trailing his tongue over her lips. Narcissa gasped once, then made him gasp with a turn of her chin and broke free, shaking her head. “I doubt it’s that, as enjoyable as it is.”
“No,” Lucius had to admit. He stroked her throat with one hand and told her, in a soft voice, about the return of the Dark Lord, and the way that Salazar Slytherin had returned after all, though not in a human guise.
Narcissa’s grip on his fingers grew crushing as she listened, but she showed no sign of her emotions on her face. Lucius honestly hadn’t expected any. Narcissa dealt with unexpected news like this by locking it away and processing it in silence for a while. When she spoke, her words were always well-chosen, and the only impatience Lucius felt in waiting for them was anticipation. He returned to stroking her hair while she meditated.
“I think that we have a right to move fast,” she said, which Lucius nodded to. “To be the main channel through which people learn of this information.”
“Yes,” said Lucius, content. He had known that her desires would echo his almost perfectly.
“And we should send the silver necklace I brought with me as part of my dowry to Harry.”
“What?” That made Lucius blink, and it was not often that Narcissa startled him anymore. They had been married too long for that. “Why would you think…”
“He will need protection,” Narcissa said, as calmly as if she was discussing sending Harry a box of sweets. “Severus will do his best, I am sure, and there is his basilisk. But he will need more than that. Don’t you agree, Lucius?”
Lucius faltered and blinked and wasn’t sure that he did agree. There were other people who would sign up to protect Harry now that they knew who he was bonded to, and arguably who he was (Lucius had not yet decided how much he should emphasize the sharing of souls, rather than the basilisk’s identity). And a basilisk was a great protection in and of itself.
“You can think of it, if you will,” said Narcissa, after a moment, in a calm and sweet voice, “as a way to protect a valuable political asset. I am thinking of it as protecting someone our son values.”
Lucius nodded slowly. Yes, one could see it if they looked at it that way. “Very well. But that necklace would have gone to Draco in time. You know how possessive he gets about magical objects…”
Narcissa let loose the rich chuckle that always made Lucius want to join her, although in this case, he was afraid that he didn’t quite understand the joke. Then she sat up and kissed his ear and whispered into it, and Lucius could only sit there and stare in admiration of her brilliance as Narcissa got out of bed and swept up to the attic.
“Our son is far more possessive of people.”
That was true, Lucius thought. And a sign that Draco was a true Malfoy, something Lucius didn’t always see when he looked at him; Draco was still young and unformed, more so than Lucius had been at his age.
But Narcissa could see it. Narcissa was going to encourage Draco’s friendship with someone who could become one of the most important wizards in their world. And Harry would probably take the gesture better coming from her, Lucius had to admit. Not that they were not allies, now, but Harry had reason to hold the past against him. He’d never had any bad interactions with Narcissa.
Until he was sure that he had the young man’s whole-hearted forgiveness, Lucius would let Narcissa take the lead in handling him.
He tapped his left forearm thoughtfully as he left the bedroom. Figuring out the artifact had to be his most important priority, but there was no reason he couldn’t Floo other former Death Eaters and write to the papers while he prepared for the intense period of study and concentration that the artifact would require for its conquering.
In the meantime, Narcissa would handle the other half of the work, an agreeable division of labor. Lucius smiled, glad, and not for the first time, that he had married his wife.
*
Harry shuddered a little as he watched the yellow glow come to life behind Dash’s eyelids. He had been awake for a few hours, lying there and dreading what would happen when he could speak to Dash again. He didn’t know what would have changed.
I'm so hungry I could kill a centaur, Dash said. Can you ask the house-elves to bring me food? I don’t want to leave here. I don’t know if I could control myself if I was slithering along the corridors and saw a particularly delicious-looking Hufflepuff.
Harry made a scoffing sound without meaning to. "And are you considering what could happen to you if you ate a Hufflepuff?"
Yes. Probably indigestion. Which is an excellent reason not to do it.
Considering he probably wouldn't get anything else done until Dash's appetite was satisfied, Harry rolled his eyes and summoned a house-elf. She eyed Dash with a gulp and promised to bring a huge haunch of beef. Dash sighed a little as she popped away. Not as good as having the prey live and wriggling, but. House-elves.
Harry found that he had something to say after all. It wasn't the way he had planned to begin this conversation, but. Well. Why didn't you ever tell me?
You think I knew from the first moment I was hatched? Of course not. Some of my knowledge is instinctive, but not that. It wasn't until the beginning of this year that I started to gain back some of my memories.
"Okay." Harry shifted a little, but there was no one else in the hospital wing right now. Madam Pomfrey was probably at lunch, and Professor Snape must have gone to bed. "The beginning of the school year, or this year in the winter?"
This year in the winter. Or the midwinter solstice, more precisely. Did you know that that was the day I died?
Harry switched back to talking down the mental bond as the house-elf Apparated in with the beef and Apparated out again before Dash could even slither off the bed. But this is the second one of those you've seen. Why do you think it happened on the second and not the first?
I shared a very rare tidbit about Salazar Slytherin with you, and you didn't think to thank me. Dash's tail lashed the floor once as he unhinged his jaws and brought them down like a blade, severing and then surrounding half the huge hunk of beef. Most people don't know that, I'll have you know. There are people researching me who would go crazy if they knew I had a death date.
I'm not a Slytherin.
Dash turned his head very, very slowly towards him. Harry groaned and buried his head in his hands as he remembered the deeply special way he was a Slytherin now.
Apparently satisfied that he was listening, Dash went back to working the beef down his throat. As for why I knew then and not the first solstice, I don't know. Maybe my brain and magic weren't ready for the knowledge yet.
Why didn't you tell me as soon as you knew?
I didn't know how you would react. Dash's throat was still swollen from the food, but he eyed the rest of the beef as if he intended to climb on top of it and then chew down through the center. As is shown by the fact that you just said you're not a Slytherin, as if you have to be a Slytherin to be a Parselmouth or interested in me.
Harry took a deep breath and asked the question that those other questions had been masking. Why me? I mean, why in the world would you come back to life just to bond with me? Someone who's not a Slytherin and even killed the last basilisk!
Dash climbed up on top of the beef and started eating down through the middle exactly as Harry had thought he might do when he saw him eyeing the food that way. What makes you think I came back to life to bond with you? For just that reason?
Harry hesitated. Then he said, Well, I don’t know. That’s what everyone else seems to think, at least.
And they are so unbiased. They never make a mistake. They never, for example, thought you were evil because you were a Parselmouth, or letting loose the basilisk in the Chamber on people because-well, because. Dash was almost invisible in the middle of the huge lump of beef now, his tail twitching in enjoyment. Harry thought he felt a touch of smugness from Dash that he could eat and yet speak at the same time. They never would have thought of something wrong, certainly.
Harry leaned back against his pillow and thought about it. Then he asked, Why did you come back to life?
Dash popped his head through the side of the beef, making Harry start a little. There was another huge lump in his throat, and he struggled for a moment as though it really was preventing him from speaking. A good question. And I think I know what people like your Snape would say. They would say it was to do good for Slytherins in the wider world. Or ease Muggleborn prejudice.
Snape wouldn’t say that.
True. But they would have all sorts of ideas. Grand ideas. Wonderful ones. Adventures that a basilisk with Salazar Slytherin’s soul could lead them on. Dash turned back to his meal.
Harry tapped his fingers on the pillow, and had to hide a smile. He was remembering how Dash had insisted that he was named Dash, not, oh, King of Serpents. Or whatever that would be in Latin. Or some grand old name that came out of Roman times like so many wizard names did.
It was a mistake, wasn’t it? he asked finally, when Dash had turned most of the beef into interestingly-sized lumps in his neck and flanks.
Not a mistake, as such. But unintended. Dash turned and curled himself around Harry’s leg, staring up at him with his covered eyes. Honestly? One of the reasons that I didn’t tell you the truth even when I knew it is because I knew people would expect me to start living up to Salazar’s reputation. And I was enjoying being me. Dash. Not Salazar.
“I wouldn’t try to make you change,” Harry whispered, feeling that was important enough to say in English. “Not if you didn’t want to. But Professor Snape and Draco were saying everything was going to change now, and…”
There are certain things that no one could expect me to do. Dash sounded more cheerful now as he yawned and his fangs flashed, and he curled himself more firmly onto the bed. For example, speak to people and be an inspiring leader, because so many of them can’t understand Parseltongue.
But then they’ll probably expect me to speak and translate what you’re saying, Harry said in horror, switching back to mental speech as Madam Pomfrey came into the room and glanced at him, half in suspicion. Harry gave her a faint smile and focused on Dash again. What do you think of that?
I think you’ll have a hard time, because even if they ask you that, you won’t be able to translate all my jokes and my remarks about what twits they are.
Dash, I-
We have so many weapons on our side, Harry. I wish you wouldn’t focus on this one idea that there’s a certain way this has to go, and that everyone will be disappointed not to hear from me. We can tell them that I’m primal and animal now, and that my soul is mixed up with a basilisk’s soul.
Do basilisks have souls? Harry asked uncertainly. It was something he’d never thought about, and now he wondered more than ever if the one he’d killed in the Chamber had had the right to live.
Of course we bloody do. And of course killing that basilisk was the bloody right thing to do. You had to survive long enough to bond with me, after all.
Harry tilted his head back and narrowed his eyes a little at Dash. Were you this selfish when you were alive-
I’m alive now.
I mean, when you were human?
It’s not as though I have all my memories back unblurred, you know. Dash yawned again, and then lapped all his coils around Harry until Harry would have a hard time moving. I know a lot. I know some of the specific secrets that people have wondered about, like how and when I died, and I have access to powers I didn’t have before. None of that means that I’m suddenly Salazar again. I’m a snake, Harry. I’m changed by that. I’m changed by the way I sent my spirit into the egg.
Harry paused. There were a lot of things he wanted to ask about, but he could hear Ron and Hermione’s voices in the corridor outside, and he didn’t think they were far away. What else are you changed by?
Dash turned and rubbed his head back and forth against Harry’s motionless fingers. I’m changed by the fact that my first loyalty is to you, and always will be. So stop acting as though I’m Slytherin. I mean, I am, anyone with any sense is, and you should have let the Hat Sort you there. But not the person. I’m a basilisk, which is the masterwork of creation, and much better than any human except you.
Harry was finally able to let his breath go in a rush, and turn to smile at his best friends as they burst into the hospital wing, and hug them while Hermione flung her arms around him, talking in a rapid but hushed voice about some of the things the Prophet was starting to say.
A lot of things had changed, not the least the fact that Voldemort was back and he had those ragged edges to his soul.
But the most important thing was asleep with a fully belly on the bed beside him, and hadn’t changed at all.
Chapter Ninety.
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