Be Careful
88: What You Interpret
By Anne B. Walsh
Ray shook Draco awake on Monday morning. "Meeting up in the Great Hall," he said. "We’ve got trouble."
"We who?" Draco kicked his covers off and swung his legs out of bed. "We the family, we at Hogwarts..."
"We as human beings," said Vince, coming in from the bathroom. "There was a major attack on Manchester last night. At least twenty people Kissed, and that’s only the ones they know for sure."
"They said it looked like someone got the wards down the way that Black bitch did here back in the fall," Greg added from behind his friend. "Showed the dementors a weak spot and had them attack it constantly until it failed."
"And Father’s home right now checking our wards for that same pattern." Ray was clenching and unclenching his fists as though he hoped to punch the person responsible for the sabotage. "I knew they shouldn’t have failed at Luna’s ball, I just knew it..."
Draco fastened his day robes, finger-combed his hair into a semblance of order, and cast a quick Minty-Fresh Charm on his mouth. "Lead on, I follow," he said, putting his wand away.
"Quit stealing my lines," Ray grumbled, heading out of the dorm.
The House tables were missing from the Hall, which had instead been filled with wooden benches in the manner of an old-fashioned auditorium. Said benches were occupied by the teachers and most of the students fifth year and above, though younger ones were dotted here and there. Abby looked around from her seat beside Hermione as the Slytherins entered, and shot to the back for a hug from Ray before attaching herself to Draco. "It’s bad," she said into his robes. "And I know I should stop trying to See it, but I can’t."
"Yes, you can." Draco peeled her off him and sat her down at the end of one bench before sliding in beside her. "Try Seeing other things instead. Like the party I went to the other night, with my Luna and that world’s Hermione and Harry and Moony and Weasleys."
Abby nodded doubtfully, leaning into Draco’s side. "I’ll try," she said.
Draco looked up at the dais. Moony and Professor Riddle were setting up a large display screen where the high table usually sat, while Professor Dumbledore murmured urgently with Professor McGonagall and several worn-looking Aurors to one side. James Potter and Sirius Black, in particular, both looked exhausted, and Sirius was shaking his head in quick spurts as he talked, like his dog form trying to rid itself of something foul.
Beside him, Abby muffled a squeal with her hand, then stared up at Draco with wide and worshipful eyes. "I love you," she said through her fingers. "I love you very much."
Storing this for later investigation, Draco sat up straighter as Professor Dumbledore stepped onto the dais.
"As you may know, the city of Manchester was last night attacked in force by dementors, causing the wards to fail," the Headmaster announced. "The current count of those definitely Kissed stands at thirty-four, and over one hundred people are missing. Most of those..." He had to stop for a moment as a wave of whispering broke out. "Most of those," he resumed when the Hall was quiet again, "are simply unaccounted for. Anyone who was separated from his family, for instance, or lost her mobile or her Zippo in the confusion, would be listed as missing. It is expected that the majority of them will be found unharmed."
Thirty-four is bad enough. Draco did some mental arithmetic and swallowed hard at the results. That’s as many as all the Beauvois, all the Potters and the Weasleys, and most of the Blacks too, and it can only go up from there...
"However." Dumbledore’s voice was flat in a way Draco had never heard before, not even on the Astronomy Tower. "Our problems are greater than this." He moved back, ceding the floor to Professor Riddle.
"Some of you have heard rumors that Manchester’s city wards were breached by treachery," the Defense professor said, pacing back and forth on the dais. "That a wizard or a witch pointed out a weakness in them, which the dementors were able to exploit to make the wards fall. Ladies and gentlemen, the wards were indeed destroyed by the exploitation of a weak point, but there was no human being involved." He ran a hand through his dark hair, his face older than Draco had ever seen it look. "The evidence..."
He broke off, shaking his head. "I beg your pardon. This is difficult for me." A deep breath, and he continued. "The evidence points to certain dementors having Kissed human beings, taken their souls, and rather than converting those souls into new dementors, retaining the souls within themselves... and thereby gaining human-level intelligence."
Across the room, Harry uttered one word. It was short, Anglo-Saxon, and summed up Draco’s feelings perfectly. Judging by the massive wave of nervous laughter, most of the audience felt the same way.
"Yes, Potter, I think we all agree with you on that one." Professor Riddle hooked his arms behind his head and stretched. "Though some of us might have put it differently."
"Like ‘bloody hell that’s bad’?" Ron suggested from a few seats down.
"Yes, yes, I’m sure we all have our own way to say it," Professor McGonagall said testily as the Hall erupted with suggestions for phrasing. "But if we could all be QUIET for a moment..."
Silence reigned.
"Thank you." McGonagall tapped her wand against the edge of the display screen, causing it to light up. A photograph of a piece of paper was revealed, with words written rather blotchily on it. "This was located in one of the homes invaded by dementors. The homeowners, a mixed family named Franklin, assure us that it was not present when they evacuated. It is, however, written on their paper with their pens and their ink. The only conclusion we can draw is that a dementor wrote it, and left it behind to be found when they were expelled from the city."
Draco leaned forward, squinting to try to decipher the words. Scribble of stars something strong, squiggle squiggle stronger, give blotch to us or we something else, the chicken-scratch is wrong, we are your...
"We have not yet determined what message the dementors wish to send us," said Professor Riddle, looking out over the audience. "If anyone thinks they can read it, please see us privately."
For one instant, his eyes held Draco’s, and Draco blinked as a pair of images entered his mind—himself and Abby leaving the Great Hall, and the door to Moony and Danger’s quarters on the third floor. He gave a slight nod, and Professor Riddle nodded back.
"Overall," said Professor Dumbledore, stepping forward, "this changes nothing. We knew dementors were a threat. Now we know more about them. With time and determination, we will defeat them. I would ask you to continue your usual Patronus practice, and also to try to produce a Warrior Patronus if you can, for these ‘wise’ dementors have one great weakness. Because they contain two souls on a more-or-less permanent basis, they can be killed at any time."
"Then why don’t we just go out and kill them all?" Ray asked loudly.
"If we could find them, we would," said Dumbledore. "But they are indistinguishable to human senses from any other dementor. The only way we could tell them apart would be to observe them and watch for human-like behavior. And I fear anyone close enough to do such observation would soon be not an observer but part of a wise dementor himself. Or herself."
There were a few shrill giggles, but overall the room was still.
"Thank you for your attention." Dumbledore vanished the screen and restored the high table. "If you would rise and make your way out into the entrance hall, breakfast will be served shortly."
"They expect us to eat after that?" said Marcus in amazement over the sound of people standing up.
"My God, something finally put the walking stomach off his food." Lyssa was gazing at the front of the room. "I’m going to talk to Dad. He doesn’t look so good."
"I am not a walking stomach," Marcus grumbled as the Slytherins started for the door. "It’s rude to the house-elves not to eat what they give you."
"And of course you’re always the soul of courtesy," said Ray, dodging a swipe by the younger boy.
"You hungry, Joy?" Draco asked Abby under the cover of the ensuing bickering.
A brown head shook. "Did Professor Riddle have a message for you?"
"Yes, he wants us up in your parents’ rooms."
Abby bounced once on the balls of her feet, her smile a fraction of its usual size but still genuine. "Yours now too."
"Not the same kind as they are to you."
"But still yours."
The discussion got them across the entrance hall, up the marble staircase and two smaller ones, and all the way to the door Draco had seen pictured in his mind. Danger opened it almost before they could knock, pulling them both inside and into one of her patented mother hugs. This was difficult, considering the height difference among the three of them, but she managed somehow.
"I suppose we should have known," she said when she let them go. "Things were going so well."
Abby hurried over to her father, who was sitting at a small table with his head in his hands. Draco watched her until he felt a tap on his elbow, and turned to find his mum behind him, a sheet of parchment just visible at the join between right hand and hip. "Do I not rate a hug?" she asked, lifting her nose high in the air.
Draco let his arms do the answering for him. Her familiar perfume wafted around him as he rested his head against hers. "My dearest," she whispered to him. "My little love." A wry chuckle. "Though I must say ‘little’ is debatable, as you have been taller than I since we met."
"I’ll always be your baby," Draco promised, and felt her laugh again. "Is something wrong, Mum? That message the dementors left, was it worked out after all?"
"I can read it," Moony said hoarsely from where he was sitting with Abby curled up in his lap. "So could James and Sirius, and possibly Minerva if she hasn’t lost the knack, though it’s been long enough that I’d imagine she has."
"Why you three?" Draco asked, crossing to sit down at the table with his mum and Danger. "Did you take some kind of owl-order course in dementor handwriting?"
Moony snorted. "I only wish the answer were that simple," he said, holding out his hand to Mum, who gave him one of the parchments she’d been holding. "I’ve made a clean copy."
Draco peered at the words, done in Moony’s careful writing, and felt his stomach turn over.
Serpent of stars grows strong.
We grow stronger.
Give him to us or we take him.
The prophecy is wrong.
We are your destiny.
"Prophecy," he said aloud, trying to distract himself from the first line and the sinking feeling that he knew exactly what it meant. "Isabelle said something about a prophecy, that night she helped the dementors break in here..."
And she also said Mum thought it was about me.
Starwing mentioned a prophecy too, that first night I was here in spirit form—a prophecy about the end of the dementors, and how Abby being born meant it was going to happen...
"Here it is," said Mum, unfolding the other parchment. "Read it carefully. It may not mean what it seems to mean at first."
Draco accepted the parchment and began to read, quickly once to get the overall shape of the words, then slowly, picking out phrases.
"When darkness shall be master of the night," yeah, that sounds like now. "Serpent" again here, and "comes forth from faithless light and reflected shadow"—well, if this serpent and the "serpent of stars" from the dementor note mean the same thing, a person’s name, then maybe these mean names too...
The sinking feeling was back in full force; Draco was surprised he was still on the same floor as everyone else. Shoving the fear away, he concentrated on the handwritten lines in front of him. Unfortunately, nothing else seemed to make any sense, except—
Except that this serpent is supposed to be the one who strikes darkness a blow.
Judging by that note, darkness isn’t terribly willing to get struck.
"So how do you know that handwriting?" he asked, looking up at Moony, hoping without much real hope that the delaying tactic would bring about the moment when everyone shouted "Got you!" or "Just kidding!"
"It is the handwriting of a dear friend of mine." Moony stared at the tabletop, his arms around Abby, who was silent and wide-eyed though she must have heard this story many times. "During the Troubles, he and Sirius were trapped together with twelve Muggles, and the dementors closing in on them. He ran out into the open and got the dementors’ attention, luring them away, so that Sirius could bring the Muggles to a skyship and safety."
"And got Kissed for his pains," Draco said, fighting down several far more inappropriate comments. His mind had found the parallels immediately, and was contrasting the reckless young hero of this story with the cowering, whimpering man he had known in his original world.
I guess he had it in him after all, or he could have... who’d have thought?
"Yes." Moony’s hands flexed as though he wished for his Animagus form’s claws. "And now I find that for his bravery..." The word seemed to taste bad, as he spat it out. "...he has been condemned to this wretched half-life for all these years, while we have lived in happiness and peace. And I know that my brooding about it does no good." This, viciously, to Danger. "It makes me miserable without helping him in the least. But I hate most of all being unable to stop the pain of those I love. And I did love my friend, just as I love those who are left."
"Then we will use that love, and we will find him," Mum said quietly. "You will conjure the Warrior Patronus that frees him from his captivity, and have a moment to say your goodbyes before he departs this world." Her voice acquired the snappish edge it got when Draco slacked on his schoolwork or snarked too hard at his friends. "Is that agreeable to you, Remus John, or must I throw in a bar of chocolate as well?"
Abby covered her mouth to keep from giggling out loud. Danger didn’t bother.
Author Notes:
Evil twists. Yay fun. It’s late. I’m tired. Bed now. Reviews, please?
For those of you who might need a refresher on the prophecy, it's in Chapter 14.