Be Careful
14: How You Begin
By Anne B. Walsh
Draco used his handkerchief one last time, then tossed it into the laundry hamper.
They’ll probably put a spell on that eventually too. Make it so they don’t have to come in here for anything.
He stood up and crossed to his desk, pulling out his favorite quill and a fresh scroll of parchment. The sooner he started recording the details of his dream, the less he’d lose.
Count my blessings. They could have put me downstairs in the dark, or taken away my writing things, or even decided they had to send me out of the country. Wouldn’t that be lovely—stuck on a train for hours, knowing every second I’m forgetting things I’ll never get back…
Dipping his quill, he considered how to begin.
"Once upon a time" seems about right. Or it would, if I were sure a dream was all this was—
Draco bit his lip sharply to cut off this line of thought. He had to keep believing it had been only a dream. A dream that made him walk in his sleep, perhaps, but still a dream.
I can live through losing a dream. It’s happened before.
I can’t live through losing a world.
Especially not a world like that.
The ink had dried on his quill’s tip while he thought. He dipped it again and set to work.
Once upon a time, in a world both very like and very unlike mine, I met people who looked like my enemies but became my friends…
In the Hogwarts library, Cecy pored over a scroll she had stretched out on the table in front of her, making notes in a second scroll beside her. Occasionally, she consulted the Latin dictionary on her other side.
"Aunt Cecy?" said a small, forlorn voice from beside her.
"Hello, Abby." Cecy smiled at the girl, pretending not to notice the tearmarks on her cheeks. "Come to help me?"
"Maybe." Abby sat down on the chair beside Cecy. "What are you doing?"
"I’m looking at a prophecy, a very old prophecy. Come to think of it, you should be able to help me. It belongs to your family, after all."
"Oh." Abby scooted her chair closer to the table. "I do know about that one. Salazar Slytherin’s granddaughter gave it to us, the day she married the first Beauvoi ever to have magic. Mum used to tell it to us in bedtime stories, but it’s complicated and all I can ever remember is something about a serpent and darkness getting sealed away."
"Which is why I have it written down." Cecy pulled the scroll closer to Abby. "Will you read it for me once? I might understand a bit better if I hear it in another voice than my own."
Abby leaned forward and began to read. Cecy half-shut her eyes, listening to the girl speak.
"When darkness shall be master of the night, then await the serpent who comes forth from faithless light and reflected shadow. He shall despair four times: the first, let him be rescued; the second, let him have help; the third, let him rescue himself; the fourth, let him rescue all. For on that day when the serpent flees with two others, and sees that his warrior foe ends the flight, the darkness shall be struck a blow; and on that day when the ruthless one accepts the gift of the serpent, the gift of new life with no sight, the darkness shall be driven back; and on that day when the argent orb becomes forsworn, the darkness shall be sealed away, and sealed away it shall remain as long as faith is broken."
Ah-ha. Cecy made a notation on her scroll. Encouraging and discouraging at the same time, like every other clue I’ve found. Everything I can interpret here seems to point to my Draco being the one we’ve been waiting for—
And I felt the link I had laid on him shatter not ten minutes after I lay down to sleep. I cannot track him in his own world, and he may not think to connect the place he lies down with the place he wakes up. If he sleeps at his home without protection—if he wakes to Fidelus Manor as it now is—
She shuddered, unable to stop herself imagining. Draco would awaken, likely pleased to find himself back in his "dream". He would take a change of clothes from the wardrobe and open the door of his bedroom, perhaps calling out for her as he did, to tell her he had returned.
But I will not be there. And those who will, will give him a very different greeting.
Her mind painted a vivid picture of Draco blanching at the sight of those who now inhabited Fidelus Manor. He would back up, dropping his robes to the floor—the dementors would come gliding forward, letting their inherent darkness block the morning sun, their chill steal the warmth and life from the air—Draco might try to cast a Patronus, but alone against so many, what chance did he have?
None. He has no chance. And when his Patronus fails, they will Kiss him. They will drag his soul from his living body and turn him into a mindless monster whose only knowledge is hunger for the light, whose only ambition is to spread darkness wider and ever wider.
I would rather he stayed in his own world forever than that.
"Is Draco the serpent?" Abby asked, peering at the top of the prophecy. "I thought it meant dragon."
Cecy shook off her dark mood. "It means both," she said, rolling her right wrist in a circle to relieve the tension it had been under while she wrote. "The constellation called Draco looks like a great snake. And he’s also a Slytherin, if not a descendant like you."
Abby grinned for a moment, then returned to business. "It says he has to despair four times," she said, tapping the words. "He already has once, before he first came to us. That was part of why I screamed when I saw him, because there was so much hurt all through him."
"And that would have been the time he was rescued." Cecy followed the line along the parchment. "Abby, I think you may have something there. If this is the second time Draco will despair, then he will need help to find his way back to us."
"But how can we send him help if we don’t know where he is?" Abby demanded.
Cecy smiled. "We have things of his," she said. "Objects he has handled, clothes he has worn. With the proper magic, we can use those to find him no matter where he has gone. We may not be able to bring him back to us in that way, but we can send him a message…"
"Someone beat you to it," said Danger, stepping out from between the bookshelves.
"Mummy!" Abby launched herself from her chair.
"Easy, love." Danger sidestepped her daughter’s leap and caught her with one arm as she landed, hugging her close. "Yes, I’m here, I’m all right. Daddy too, he’s coming. It may be a miracle, Cecy," she added over Abby’s head. "Everyone got out. No one Kissed. I don’t think that’s ever happened before in a home where the wards went down."
"I think you may be right." Cecy stood up with a smile as a weary-looking Remus appeared behind his wife. "Are you the last ones in, then?"
"As is traditional for the hosts," Remus said, bending to hug Abby rather than lifting her up, though she pouted. "I’m sorry, Joy, but I’ve been working hard tonight, and I’m tired."
Abby nodded in understanding. "Is it true, what Mother said?" she asked. "Nobody got Kissed at all?"
"My word’s not good enough for you?" Danger stuck her nose in the air. "I think I’m offended."
Abby made a face at her mother. "Is it?" she asked Remus. "Please?"
"It is." Remus caressed his daughter’s hair. "Everyone who was at the ball is safe now. Most of them decided to come here with us rather than risk going home. Andy’s downstairs with Ted, and would like to see you before you turn in," he said to Cecy. "And I’m sure I’ve seen Dora and her Charlie around here somewhere, but I can’t seem to recall where."
"They’ll turn up. What were you saying, Danger, about someone beating us to sending Draco a message?"
"Oh yes." Danger’s smile was equal parts pride and exasperation. "We found our two eldest children in one of the fifth floor workrooms, flat on their backs recovering from an unexpected power drain. The place stank of magic, and not any spell either of us recognize, not even close. On the workbench was a set of black robes which Remus says are Draco’s, and this."
"What is it?" Abby asked, looking closely at the translucent white object floating at the end of her mother’s wand.
"It’s a sheet of parchment," said Remus. "Or to be more precise, half a sheet of parchment. As in, one half in our world, one half in Draco’s. How they managed it I have no idea, and judging by the results to the twins, I’m not sure I want to. They’ll sleep very well for the rest of tonight, and probably far into the morning."
"There’s no indication Draco’s got the message they sent, though," Danger said with a sigh. "I do hope they didn’t make a mistake, send it to the wrong world or the wrong person—it would be such a shame if they’d worked out that spell and drained themselves casting it for nothing…"
"They didn’t," Abby said firmly. "Draco’s just busy and didn’t see the letter yet. He’ll get it soon."
"He had better," said Cecy, clearing her materials from the table so that Danger could lay the message down on it. "I may be wrong, I’m no theoretician, but that looks to me like an unstable casting. Necessary, for this kind of first-time work, but by its very nature prone to failure. If the spell should come undone before Draco can see it…"
Three adults and one young girl gathered around the library table to wait.
…why everyone has such big families, unless it’s because there wasn’t a war, just the Troubles, which I never did get a good definition for but apparently they were war-like, happened around the time of the first war with the Dark Lord, and involved blood purity. "The last hurrah of the fanatics," Mum called them. I’m glad I never told her what I used to be like about blood. Then again, she probably already knew.
Draco set down his quill and began to stretch his writing hand. "It really is ‘used to be like’," he said conversationally, massaging his aching fingers. "Isn’t it stupid, that I can stop believing something that was supposed to be so central to my life just like that?" He snapped the fingers of his left hand. "Maybe it’s because I always secretly knew all the stuff about blood was rot. I just never let myself think about it out in the open until this happened."
And maybe it’s stupid to be talking like there’s someone else here, but if I keep it all in my head I’ll scream, and no one’s around to laugh at me or call me crazy.
Though I probably will be, if I stay here too long. Cooped up in one room, wanting a dream I can’t have…
Draco shoved his chair noisily back from the desk and got up. A gleam of white on the floor by the bed caught his eye—he must have dropped a piece of parchment off the desk while he was rummaging for supplies.
But how did it get all the way over there? And what’s that written on it?
Curious, he went over to pick it up.
His fingers passed through it.
Draco sat down hard beside the parchment, staring at it.
It is there. Really and truly there. I just can’t touch it.
Maybe—magic?
He drew his wand and smiled a little at memories of first year Charms. "All together now, swish and flick…"
"Wingardium leviosa!"
The parchment obediently floated upwards.
"Yes," Draco hissed. "Perfect."
Three quick steps took him back to his desk. He dropped the ghostly parchment onto its surface, first clearing everything away he’d been working with by the simple expedient of scooping it all up with his left arm and dumping it on his bed, then sat down in his chair and took several deep breaths, willing his heart to slow.
I have to calm down. This isn’t necessarily what it looks like. There could be lots of reasons why a mysterious parchment I can’t touch has appeared in my bedroom.
Right. And Lucius will be getting tapped for Father of the Year any day now.
Smiling sardonically, Draco leaned forward to read.