Be Careful
81: What You Decide
By Anne B. Walsh
"How are you suddenly so sure where the last one is?" Ginny demanded of Harry in a whisper as they descended the stairs, Luna behind them. "We’ve been trying to decide between Gringotts and Hogwarts for months!"
"Luna," Harry said promptly, stopping to turn back at her. "Was the one you sent us from Gringotts?"
"Yes, it was." Luna beamed at him. "You’re very clever to figure that out so fast."
"So that just leaves Hogwarts," Harry said to Ginny, shrugging. "Not too hard."
"Yes, but how did you know that?" Ginny jabbed a finger at Luna.
"She couldn’t have found it at Hogwarts or she’d have told you, for one thing," Harry said, letting his voice follow where his brain had already led. "For another, she was at Malfoy Manor, and Malfoy went to Gringotts this fall, to the Lestrange vault, it was what he wanted for catching Ron. He probably spotted the cup there and took it, and you and your friend," he looked up at Luna again, "nicked it off him and sent it to us. Right?"
Luna nodded. "He wasn’t very careful with it," she said reprovingly as they started downstairs again. "I’ll have to speak with him about that when I see him next."
Harry was about to ask her what this meant, but Andromeda Tonks looked up at the sound of their voices and beckoned them nearer. She was sitting beside Hermione, who lay, still unconscious, on the same sort of cushions Harry remembered awakening among the previous summer.
Ron had Hermione’s hand in his, and looked up with a worried smile at Harry and the girls. "See the baby?" he asked.
"He’s darling," said Ginny, sitting down. "How is she?"
"She’ll live," Mrs. Tonks said. "But the magic used on her precludes most types of Healing. I’ve done what I can, and she should wake without pain, but her hand is gone. She’ll have to learn to use the other."
Harry swallowed against a sick feeling. His stupidity in starting to say Voldemort’s name might not have killed Hermione outright, but what it had done was almost worse. How far back would this set the wandwork she’d always been so proud of? Would she be able to fight, to defend herself, to keep up with him and Ron and Ginny, or would they have to leave her behind and finish the war without her?
She’d never forgive us. Worse, she’d never forgive herself.
"She may sleep for some time," Mrs. Tonks was saying now, "and it is possible she may not recall what happened to her. She will certainly be shocked and angry, and she may experience what is called phantom pain—"
Harry’s scar blazed up, and the sick tightness in his throat redoubled. A sense of satisfaction, even of glee, filled his mind, for who could fail to understand the message of this night, that the Dark Lord punished failure no matter whose? It was always a shame to lose a Death Eater, of course, but better to have two who would obey orders without question than three who might form into a cabal against him... now he would go to see Bellatrix, and call Rodolphus and Rabastan to tend her, and then return with Severus to the place he should have guessed long ago held what he was seeking...
"She’s dead," Harry breathed into the darkness behind his eyelids, and didn’t realize until he heard his own words that he’d spoken aloud.
Ginny slid closer to Harry, catching his hands between her own and repressing a shiver at their chill. He can’t keep going like this, not for much longer. Sharing a mind with You-Know-Who... it’s destroying him, he’s not going to make it out of this war alive unless we can end it soon...
"Who, Harry?" Luna said softly. "Who’s dead?"
Harry opened his eyes and blinked a few times, squinting as though the dim light in the room were too bright for him. After a moment, he focused on Mrs. Tonks, who was watching him warily. "I’m sorry," he said, coughing on the end of the second word. "It’s your sister."
Mrs. Tonks lowered her head and smoothed an imaginary wrinkle out of her robes. "Bella?" she asked her lap.
Harry’s fingers curled around Ginny’s, his grip just short of pain. "No."
"I see." Mrs. Tonks looked up and met Harry’s eyes. "Thank you."
She got to her feet and left the room through a door at the far end. Without a word, Luna stood up and followed her, leaving Ginny, Harry, and Ron alone with Hermione’s softly breathing form.
"I could’ve sworn Malfoy’s mum was all right when we left," said Ron, looking after Mrs. Tonks. "Did you see what happened, Harry? Was she caught in the house?"
"No." Harry’s grip was painful now, but Ginny wasn’t about to ask him to let go, not with the desperate need she could hear in his voice. "She was... it was a punishment. Because you escaped. He thought the Malfoys were plotting against him, and he wanted to break them up. So he made Lucius kill her. In front of Draco." His breathing was ragged and harsh, his sentences emerging in fragments. "No one should have to watch that. Watch their own mother die. But he enjoyed it. You-Know-Who did."
"He’s evil," Ginny said, hoping the meaning behind the two words would penetrate Harry’s thick skull for once. He’s evil, and you’re not. Even now, when you’re blaming Draco for hurting Hermione, you still don’t hate him enough to want this to happen to him.
"I know." Harry drew one deep breath and sat up straighter, relaxing his hold on Ginny’s hands. "Ron, I need your help. When you were staying at Shell Cottage, with Ollivander, did you ever talk to him? Did he ever tell you anything about what You-Know-Who wanted with him, why they took him?"
"Some, yeah. Why?"
"I need you to tell me."
Ron fidgeted with the edge of a cushion. "I never liked to bring it up before," he said. "I thought it might..."
"Make me worse about the Elder Wand?" Harry finished, and Ron flushed. "That was it, wasn’t it? That was what he wanted to know about?"
"Yeah," Ron admitted. "At first they just wanted him to make wands for them, not for anybody else." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a short, thin wand. "He told me about making one for Wormtail. This must be it. But then after last summer, after your wand did that thing with the fire, then You-Know-Who started asking about the Elder Wand, or whatever you want to call it. And Ollivander told him what he wanted to know."
"So it is real," Ginny said, glancing at the sleeping Hermione.
"Yeah, it’s real." Ron rested his hand on Hermione’s shoulder. "It’s had loads of names, the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny..." He lowered his voice into a deep bass register for the last three words, startling Ginny into a brief giggle. "But it’s always supposed to be the most powerful wand around. Unbeatable. And that means if you want it..."
"You have to take it some other way," murmured Harry, his eyes half-shut again. "Like the wizard in the story, who killed the oldest brother for it."
Ginny swallowed. "Does it have to be murder?" she asked, not sure if she was more fascinated or repelled by the concept. "I mean, could you just steal it without killing the person who had it?"
Ron shrugged. "I suppose, but why take the chance? If you’re looking for an unbeatable wand, you’re probably not the squeamish type. And whoever you got it off isn’t going to be either, and they wouldn’t be too pleased with you. Maybe if you made sure they could never come back at you..." He trailed off, looking nervously at Harry. "Mate? What’s wrong?"
"He knows where it is." Harry’s voice was barely audible. "He’s going to take it."
"What, now?" Ginny blurted. "Right this second?"
"We have to do something," Ron said over her. "We have to stop him—"
"No." Harry spoke through clenched teeth, sweat starting to appear on his forehead. "That isn’t right."
"And letting You-Know-Who get an unbeatable wand is?" Ron shouted.
"It’s the Horcruxes we have to get." Harry’s eyes were unfocusing even as he spoke. "Not the Hallows. We have to trust..."
His eyes fell shut, and he pitched forward, Ron catching him just in time. Ginny sighed and plucked off Harry’s glasses, sliding them into his front pocket as Ron laid him down beside Hermione.
"Don’t take this wrong, Ron," she said, "but every now and again I wish you’d picked a different seat on the train your first year."
"Yeah, right." Ron pulled a blanket up over Harry and Hermione, pitching his voice unnaturally high this time. "Mummy, it’s Harry Potter, please can I go look at him, please, please—"
Ginny snatched the nearest unoccupied cushion and thwacked Ron soundly with it. Ron was about to retaliate when Lupin cleared his throat from the stairs.
"Perhaps that could wait until morning?" he suggested when they both looked around. "Ginny, your bed’s ready, and Luna, wherever she’s got to..."
"In there with Mrs. Tonks," Ron said, pointing. "Harry’s asleep already, and I can kip right here if you have a spare sheet."
Lupin drew his wand and conjured one, tossing it to Ron. Ginny gave her brother a brief hug and headed for the stairs, yawning as she went. It must be nearly midnight...
"Past it, actually," said Lupin quietly as she passed him. "But since I doubt you have any pressing appointments, we’ll let you have a lie-in."
Ginny giggled. "Thank you, Professor," she said. "And for having us at all. Good night."
"Good night, Ginny."
"Take the boy up to the school," Lord Voldemort ordered. "I will join you there presently."
"Yes, my lord." Severus bowed, as did Draco, though Severus noticed the gray eyes remained fixed on the ground, never rising to Voldemort’s face.
Hiding his thoughts, most likely. His Occlumency was sufficient to block me, but it would not hold against the Dark Lord.
"We should take you to the hospital wing," he said, turning away from Voldemort to face Draco. "Your leg needs tending."
"I know some healing spells, sir. I’d rather take care of it myself."
"If you prefer."
Of course he would prefer, Severus berated himself as he led the way up to the castle. He has just seen his mother killed in front of his eyes. The last thing he wants is to spend more time with other people for whom he must put on a front of normality.
"Sir?" Draco said hesitantly as they reached the front steps.
"Yes?"
"I had a question about magic theory. I can ask Professor Flitwick tomorrow if you’d rather not—"
"No, ask," Severus interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"When two people swear an Unbreakable Vow, and one of them dies." Draco stepped into the entrance hall and watched the oak doors swing shut behind them. "Does that end the Vow, or is it still in force?"
"That depends on which person died," said Severus cautiously, looking sideways at the young man. "Was it the one who swore the Vow, or the one to whom it was sworn?"
"The second." Draco met Severus’ gaze for a moment, but there was nothing but darkness behind his eyes. "I was just wondering."
Of course you were. Of course. And my conversation with your mother, who is now dead, about a Vow I made to her, has nothing to do with your wondering.
For my part, I wonder, Draco, just how much of that conversation could you hear?
"In that case, no," he answered belatedly. "The Vow does not end."
Draco nodded and turned towards the door which led to the dungeons and the Slytherin dormitories. Before he reached it, he looked back over his shoulder. "Headmaster?"
"Yes?" Severus paused on the first step of the marble staircase.
"Thank you."
And before Severus could respond, the young man was gone.
Draco didn’t remember the walk down to the dorm, or giving the password at the right bit of wall, or making his way back to his own room and his own bed. He knew he must have done it, but his memory cut out at thanking Snape and picked back up with him sitting on the edge of his bed, mind empty of all but one thought.
My mother is dead.
Methodically, he removed his robes and hung them in his wardrobe. His pajamas went on over his pants and T-shirt. Into his pocket he thrust his wand, then climbed onto the bed and shut the curtains.
My mother is dead. And it’s my fault.
Closing his eyes, he imagined himself small and lithe and furred, and an instant later he was burrowing under the pillow, shivering with the reaction he hadn’t allowed himself to have until this moment.
My mother is dead. And I killed her.
A forlorn, high-pitched whining sounded through the room for a moment, then ceased.
Author Notes:
So yeah, Draco appears to have picked up a few of Harry’s mannerisms. Specifically, the "blame myself first" complex. Can the folks of the otherworld break him out of it? And what will he decide to do about it in the end? Stick around!