A/N: Just a couple notes. Molly is still mentally damaged by the loss of her brothers to Voldemort's first reign of terror. So when Dumbledore mentions "Imperious" it immediately conjurs up those feelings, hence her focusing on the clock.
Someone asked this and I wasn't clear on it in the story. The Time of Burnings that Remus mentions took place during the first war, just before Harry was born. The timing isn't really important though.
Keep your eye on "Lazarus," He plays a bigger role in the later stories of this trilogy. Speaking of which, I anticipate this one planned out to around thirty to thirty five chapters, so we're nearing the halfway point.
Chapter 16: History Lessons
Draco Malfoy awoke slowly, his head spinning from the previous night's excursions. Or was it night yet again. His sense of time was off kilter to say the least.
His head was throbbing, that much he could suss out without thinking. He staggered out of bed, trying to orient himself to his surroundings. He remembered that he was in the safehouse granted to him by Lord Voldemort. He remembered he was in the company of one Caliban de Montesquieu. He remembered his mission.
He remembered his world crashing down around him.
He shook his head violently in defiance, a decision he nearly regretted considering the headache he was sporting at the moment. But he continued to tell himself that there was no way Caliban was telling the truth. The idea was ludicrous. However for the first time, a tiny voice spoke up against him from the back of his mind, causing him to forget all of his pain.
But what if he isn't lying.
For the first time Draco allowed himself to dwell on that question. What if Caliban was not lying to him? What if Draco was a half-blood like Caliban said? What if he was the son of Lucius Malfoy and some unknown muggle pulled off the street corner? What did that mean to him?
It meant he was worthless, he immediately told himself. It meant that he was exactly the thing he had ridiculed Potter and Granger for being since the day he had met them. It meant he was a mudblood, unworthy to grace the world of magic.
"No," he forcefully screamed putting his fist into the wall next to him. The lights flickered as the angry outburst reached its crescendo. Draco quickly tried to think of anyway he could disprove Caliban's secret.
He could ask his mother, but that was nixed as he sadly remembered that his mother had vanished for the moment, something that he hadn't allowed himself to think about for a good long while. He quick shoved aside that line of thought.
His Aunt Bella should be able to shed light of the subject, provided she was cackling insanely when he asked her. he went through his mind trying to think of anyone who would be able to tell the truth, anyone he could speak with anyway.
It hit him.
How obvious it was.
He could certainly swing it, they'd have to let him see him if he was just a visitor. Regardless of everything, one thing still rang true...
Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the opening of his door. Caliban entered, a firm smirk on his face. He glanced over at the slight depression in the wall and then back at Draco. "I see you're awake," he flatly stated. Draco paid him no heed, instead standing up and glaring at him.
"I'm going to visit my father," he calmly announced.
/ - / - / - /
3 weeks into training
Things were going well, Harry told himself, as he awoke from his sleep. Aside from initially being unable to tell the difference between night and day, everything had gone off without a hitch. He had finally begun to master a lot of the spells he was lucking himself into, and as a result was beginning to show Hermione some of the finer points of the advanced defense spells and charms that he knew (though, he readily admitted, she took to them even quicker than he did).
Sighing contently he stood up and walked over towards the window of his bedroom. For the first time in his life, it seemed that things were going his way. Away from the manipulations of Dumbledore, away from the clutches of Voldemort, he was simply allowed to live for the first time in his life. Though he was helping Hermione along with her grief, all the while dealing with his own in short spurts, time was getting better. Reconnecting with his parents portraits had been a far greater liberating experience then he could have imagined. He had the picture moved from the portrait gallery to the main dining room where they could join he and Hermione for meals, or rather just idle conversation during meals.
He heard a small noise outside his bedroom and it immediately shook him out of his stupor. Glancing around he summoned his wand to his side and cautiously exited the door. He didn't think Hermione was up, or rather something told him she wasn't. It might have been Dobby or Winky, though they were normally quiet wherever they might be.
Slowly he stalked down the hallway, making his way to the library where he heard the noise again. Looking up at the ceiling, he saw Thoth settling into the roost they had made for him. He smiled...it had just been the owl...
....Harry froze. Nothing could leave the house right now. They had let the owls out to stay the day outside the time warp so they wouldn't starve to death from lack of hunting grounds.
Harry tried to turn but was immediately blasted with a stunner into the armchair on the overhead reading area in the library. He grimaced as he tried to turn to face his attacker, only to have his wand blown out his hand by a disarming spell. He held his hand in pain, and went red with anger as he saw his attacker.
"Hello Harry," the figure of Albus Dumbledore said calmly, "I'm glad to see that I found you safe and sound."
Harry didn't give him a chance to continue. Immediately in a rush of anger he leapt out of the chair and forward at Dumbledore. His right fist was cocked back, ready to unload a vicious cross to the man who had played symphony with his life. Dumbledore waved his wand, a motion that was lost to Harry in his blinded rage. Instantly he felt his body go stiff and his momentum carried him forward. Full Body Bind. He was trapped.
"That was very irresponsible of you, escaping like that Harry," Dumbledore chided him, glancing down at him. "You are far too important to be this reckless."
"Go fuck yourself old man," Harry spat out, with all the anger he could muster as he fought against the curse.
"Such language," Dumbledore softly said, shaking his head in full on grandfather mode. "What would your parents say to such lack of disrespect? What would Sirius say?"
"DON'T YOU DARE MENTION HIS NAME!" Harry's anger came to full boil and he fought against the body bind with all of his might. In one fell swoop he managed to break the curse and get to his feet. Before Dumbledore could react Harry tackled him from the ground and spiked him down. He unloaded several fists to Dumbledore's jaw, wanting to feel it break beneath his onslaught. Somewhere in the melee, Dumbledore managed to cast a stunner, somewhat weakly, and force Harry off of him. Dumbledore staggered to his feet while Harry tried to shake off the effects of Dumbledore's spell.
"CATENA!" Dumbledore yelled, and instantly iron chains wrapped around Harry's form, driving him down to the ground again. Dumbledore felt his jaw and looked at the blood trickling down from his lip as it stained his hand. Grumbling to himself, he knelt down in front of Harry, who still struggled against the chains that bound him.
"I think I've indulged your little temper tantrum long enough Mr. Potter," he coldly said, far more angry than Harry could ever remember. "It's time to take you back to the Dursley's where you'll be safe and end all of this Heir of the Founders nonsense." Harry's eyes went wide. "Yes, I hope you didn't think I wouldn't know about your little inheritance. I'll simply replace the protections I put on you, for your own good." He paused a moment before continuing. "Don't concern yourself with Miss Granger, she'll be sent to relatives in America where she can properly be cared for. In fact...it's best if you don't remember that any of this ever happened." Harry struggled as hard as he could, tried to think of any spell that could get him out of this as Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry's head, just a few inches from his eyes.
"OBLIVIATE!"
/ - / - / - /
In the same instant that the dull gray light flooded Harry's subconscious line of vision, Harry Potter awoke from his nightmare, his breathing ragged, and sweat dripping from his brow. He took several seconds before he could gather his surroundings, and when he did he heard the soft sounds of a woman's voice.
"Harry...Harry it's alright. It was just a nightmare." He struggled to focus, his mind still a bit groggy from sleep. Before long the image of Hermione, a sight that never looked sweeter, clicked in his mind.
"Hermione?" he asked, still breathing rapidly. She nodded, gently rubbing his hair as realization began to draw on his face. Finally he pulled away, leaning his head forward, taking more controlled breaths as he struggled to keep his emotions under control. Hermione leaned forward, tilting his head up slightly so that his eyes met hers.
"Tell me Harry," she firmly asked, "Tell me about your dream."
Harry nodded, letting out a bit of a shuddered breath. "I had woken up, and then I came out to see about a noise." He paused a moment, his throat suddenly very dry. Taking the cue, Hermione waved her wand and conjured a glass of water for him. After several grateful gulps, Harry set aside the glass and continued his tale. "The noise was Thoth flying around, but I knew that couldn't be right cause the owls are outside the time warp. I turned around and was stunned and disarmed by Dumbledore." Hermione's eyes went wide. "He and I fought for a few minutes and then he chained me up. He told me he'd sent you to America and then he was going to obliviate me when I woke up." He shook his head, trying to shake the images loose, and Hermione quickly enveloped him in a hug, kissing him on the top of his head.
"It was just a dream," she whispered, "Just a dream."
"I know," he quietly said, "But it felt so real. I...I thought I was going to lose you."
Hermione pulled away, keeping her fingers intertwined with his. "Oh Harry," she said with a small smile, "You won't ever lose me. Not now, not ever."
/ - / - / - /
Caliban considered his charge before him. Draco was adamant, that much he could immediately tell. Arching an eyebrow and chuckling inwardly, he mused, "Are you now?" To his credit Draco stood firm, unwavering, never backing down from Caliban who had heretofore intimidated him whenever possible. "I don't suppose there's anything I can say to dissuade you from this course of action," Draco firmly shook his head, and Caliban noticed the wand that was held not so inconspicuously in his hand.
It was almost enough to make him smile.
"I suppose you are still continuing on this futile effort to prove me wrong?" Draco scowled at him, yep that was it alright. "Though you are likely wasting your time, I shall not object to your going to Azkaban." Caliban walked out of the room heading for his own bed. Draco cocked an eyebrow and slowly followed him. After a few minutes of standing in Caliban's doorway, the older Death Eater emerged and handed a small medallion to Draco. "This will protect you from the worst effects of the dementors. Though most of them have abandoned the prison, there are a few whom have remained loyal to the ministry." He stalked out of the room, leaving Draco standing there holding the small blue medallion on a thing gold chain. Shaking his head he stalked after Caliban.
"Not going with me," he asked from behind, causing Caliban to stop in his track. Glaring back at him from over his shoulder, he merely offered a plaintive look.
"As I have said on several occasions, I am recognizable on sight, which is why I wear the glamor charmed robes that I do. These charms are canceled on the prison island. I'd rather not hand myself over to the ministry thank you very much." He paused a moment before adding, "And having had the experience of nearly getting my soul sucked out on two or three occasions, I'd rather not face that again as well." Draco's face darkened at the idea of having one's soul sucked out. Despite his own experiences with the Death Eater's in his third year, he couldn't fathom the thought of that.
Suddenly he was very worried for his father.
Caliban must have been reading his mind, given the smirk that came across his face. "I highly doubt that your father had had that experience yet, though it must be harrowing for him to be locked up in such a hopeless situation." Draco scowled again, but held his emotional thoughts in check. It would be best if Caliban didn't see the whole truth behind this question.
"Why is he still there anyway," he flatly asked, "Shouldn't the dark lord have freed him by now." At this Caliban immediately turned toward Draco completely, his countenance flawlessly shifting from that of off-handed disinterest to anger.
"It is not your place to question the Dark Lord's motivations young dragon." He paused a moment both for added effect, and in allowing something to cross his mind. He seemed to internally debate with himself over something, before continuing. "But I suppose since you have advanced in your occulumency lessons far faster than I would have hoped, you can be trusted with certain....secrets.
"Mind you what I am about to tell you I only tell you because the Dark Lord's own personal instructions are to train you to be a member of his inner sanctum. Not his inner circle, his inner sanctum, a small group including myself and your father. We alone know of his closely held secrets, and it is in this respect that I offer you the knowledge." He sat down on a small chair, and Malfoy sat across from him. Caliban glanced around the room several times, as if looking for something or more accurately someone. Finally his paranoia seemed satisfied, as he summoned a glass tumbler and bottle of scotch. Pouring himself a glass, he placed the bottle on the table and put his feet up, looking Draco squarely in the eyes.
"Voldemort has not always been as he appeared now. He was born in 1925 Thomas Marvolo Riddle, the son of Thomas Riddle Sr., a muggle, and a witch named Merope Gaunt. The Gaunts were once one of the most influential families in all of Britain, but decades of squandering their wealth and inbreeding had reduced them to a pitiable excuse for a pureblood family. Their folly had led them to be expelled from the Wizengamot, a rarity to be certain. By the time Tom was born, there were only a handful of them left.
"Merope seduced Riddle Sr. by way of a love potion, but when she discovered she was pregnant she decided to come clean with him. In a fit of anger Thomas Riddle left Merope, and she later died of a broken-heart, shortly after giving birth to Tom. For the first few years of his life, Tom Riddle grew up in a violent, abusive orphanage, that is until his 11th birthday when he got his Hogwarts letter. He came to Hogwarts, was sorted into Slytherin, where he quickly became one of our brightest students.
"I was a year older than Tom Riddle, and even I was amazed by how much raw potential the boy had. I saw what my father was trying to do, trying to mold him into a single-minded weapon, for what purpose I was not certain, but I tried to protect him as much as I could.
"Then came the war with Grindelwald. Shortly after Tom graduated, he joined me in one of Grindelwald's legions. I had since rebelled completely against my father for reasons that are my own. There he saved my life, on more than one occasion, which is why I serve him to this day. Following the end of the war we laid low, gathering strength, gathering followers, and most importantly, securing the Dark Lord's immortality."
"Immortality?" Draco whispered, his voice speaking in hushed tones. Caliban nodded.
"Yes. By all accounts he should have died that day the killing curse hit him, but he was saved by the fact that he and I had created a Horcrux. A Horcrux is an object that is imbued with a portion of a person's soul, severed from their mind and body by the act of murder. As long as the Horcrux remains intact, the soul of a person cannot die, but rather remains earthbound in a sort of half-death. It is in this state that I found Lord Voldemort some years ago, before he engaged in a ritual that allowed him to return to the body that he currently inhabits." He took a long sip of his drink before continuing, "This Horcrux is the most valuable of objects, obviously. The object we chose was the schoolboy diary of young Tom Riddle." His face darkened at this, but he continued, "Your father was charged with safeguarding this object, but our trust was apparently...misplaced. He mishandled it by using it to try and kill mudbloods in your second year, the whole "heir of Slytherin" business?" Draco nodded in affirmation. Though he had suspected his father had something to do with that, he wasn't completely certain. "The end result was that the Horcrux was destroyed. Fortunately I had found Voldemort by that point, and had managed to create a rudimentary body for him to temporarily inhabit, while the other times he was allowed to possess my body." He paused, his eyes twinkling in the light, before he coldly said, "That is why your father is allowed to rot in Azkaban, because he failed so greatly."
Caliban finished his drink and set the glass on the table. He glanced up again, staring straight at Draco, "You are not to repeat this to anyone, do I make myself clear." The glimmer of ferocity that lurked just beneath his eyes left no room for Draco to doubt. He nodded his head silently. Caliban glanced at him for a moment, trying to read him Draco quickly deduced. Draco reinforced his occulumency shields to full boar, but still felt Caliban break through, unimpeded by his defenses. Caliban kept up the assault for a few moments, before grabbing the glass he had before. Pulling out his wand, he muttered "Portus." The glass glowed blue and shook violently for a few moments before settling down. He handed it to Draco. "That glass will act as a portkey to take you to the docks where they launch the boats to take visitors to Azkaban. Might I warn you...I don't think you'll like what you see. Azkaban has a way of making people....brutally honest." Draco glanced at the glass with contempt, and then back at Caliban.
"Well then there won't be any doubt then now will there," he clearly stated, "When my father sets you right that is."
Caliban smiled, "We shall see, young dragon."
/ - / - / - /
4 months, 14 days into training
"The key to being an animagus is simply being at peace with yourself," Harry explained, as Hermione nodded, "I mean when I become Corvax, it's like I have a second presence in my mind. You have to withdraw into yourself and find that presence, whatever it might be, and that will allow you to change."
Hermione laughed as she wrote something down on a piece of paper, "You'd think that there was something more simple to this, like taking a potion or something." Harry laughed as well, shaking his head.
"'Fraid not." He yawned and stretched out a little. "What do you say we take a little bit of a break," Hermione nodded, standing up.
"I'll take dinner in the library, there's a few spells you showed me I want to research." Harry frowned a bit but nodded his head, and Hermione walked off towards the library. Sighing as soon as she was out of earshot, he turned back and walked toward the sitting room.
There he found his parents, chatting with some of the figures in other portraits. Upon seeing their somewhat dejected son enter the room, they shooed away Great-Grandpa Gavin Potter (something that Lily thanked Merlin for being able to do) to his portrait and turned towards Harry. "What's wrong dear," his mother asked, gentle in her voice and with worry tinged at the edges of her face.
"Nothing really," Harry began, trying not to look at his mother's picture. He knew if he looked at her then it wouldn't be long until he was spilling all the beans.
"Might as well give it up son," James playfully said, "When Lily wants to find something out, nothing's going to stop her." Harry glanced up and smirked at his father, before frowning again and sitting down at a chair in front of the portrait.
"It's just that....Hermione has been real distant lately. I guess with everything that we've been doing these last few months, it's just been so hectic that it seems like we've grown apart." He shook his head, "I don't even know if anything is wrong but, I just get this feeling." He dropped his fist on the table in front of him and leaned back in the chair. "I'm no good with this sort of thing."
James chuckled at his son's plight. "Men never are Harry, it's not just you trust me. It took me three years just to realize that I loved your mother, and even longer for me to get the gumption to ask her how she felt about me."
"And during that time," Lily joined in, "We fought like cats and dogs. But it all worked out in the end." She paused for a moment before she got a bit of a mischievous smile on her face, "James dear, would you leave me and Harry alone for a moment."
"Oh Great Circe," James said over dramatically, rolling his eyes in the process, "She's got one of her brilliant ideas again." Lily nudged him in the ribs and James waved her off, going to another portrait to leave Lily and Harry alone in the room. Once he was gone, Lily turned to her son.
"There might not be anything wrong at all dear," she said smiling, "But there are certainly ways of just making her feel good that you can try to help things along."
/ - / - / - /
Albus Dumbledore walked out of the Dursley's home, rubbing his eyes repeatedly. A conversation with the family to try and track Harry down the direct way had turned up nothing, and they seemed to be more brutish towards him then he had expected. They wouldn't do as a suitable place for Harry any longer, his use with them was over. Three memory charms later and he was clear of them for good. Besides, it might help him get back in Harry's good graces if he at least appeared apologetic about one of his protections gone horribly wrong, even if it was only a half-truth.
Tossing a lemon drop into his mouth, he sighed and began walking towards Arabella Figg's house. He would need to modify her mind as well. As he went through everything in his mind, he was amazed at how quickly everything had unraveled. Years of careful planning for this moment had come undone. He'd made these kinds of missteps before, when he had been confused about certain elements of the prophecy. Maybe if he had listened to Lazarus then, things might have turned out differently.
But it was far too late to change things now.
As he turned the corner, almost instantly he felt a familiar sensation of magic appear before him. It took him a moment to recognize who it was, but when he did his eyes went wide and he turned around. There sitting on a park bench was someone he had not seen for twenty years. It brought ache to his heart to see him again, and made him immediately grab his wand in defense.
"Hello father," Caliban coldly greeted Dumbledore, "It's been a long time."
A/N: The confrontation between Caliban and Dumbledore will happen next chapter, merely as Caliban starts to dig deeper for his own personal information. Also we'll see Lucius and Draco meet in prison, and a bit of an overly romantic scene involving Harry and Hermione.
That dream sequence is an altered version of one in S'Tarkan's fantastic fiction Harry Potter and the Nightmares of Future Past.