Dark Magic

Chapter Six – Dark Magic

Harry shot upright in his bed. Still sleep-drunk, he scrambled through the attic in the direction of the small table beside the window. The locket! He had thrown it there, he was sure of it. He banged his knee against the sharp corner and swore loudly. There was nothing for it, he needed some light.

Hitting the switch with more force than he intended to, the single light bulb flared to life, illuminating the dusty room. His eyes adjusted quickly to the defuse lighting. Momentarily frozen in place, Harry noticed with a shudder how much his current retreat resembled the cupboard he had had to live in for several long years. Magic was what had gotten him out of there and allowed him access to a world where he felt finally accepted. And yet, it was the same power that had taken away the ones he loved and dictated his life.

Mentally shaking himself, Harry came back to the reason why he had gotten up in the first place. The locket that had haunted his dreams was lying innocently on the desktop. With more caution than before, he picked it up. His eyes searched out the markings – a serpentine 's' – there was no doubt about its origin. It was Slytherin's locket, the one he and Dumbledore had searched for in the cave by the sea. A Horcrux – a piece of Voldemort's soul had resided in it.

It was broken open however, and Harry felt no compulsion against handling it. Still, at one point it had contained strong dark magic. Harry had so many questions. How did it get here? Why was it open? Who was R.A.B? What happened to the soul fragment? He needed to find Lupin or anyone that had information about the dark arts, and most importantly the Black family. There was a link they had missed before.

~o~o~o~

Severus gasped. Adficio Affectus was one of the darkest potions in existence. Like magical beasts the Ministry of Magic categorized all potions and draughts. The first two categories included all brews without restrictions on ingredients and the finished product. The third, which included Wolfsbane and Polyjuice, had restrictions on certain components. The final two categories included all of the known dark potions. Any potion that included human blood or flesh was considered to be dark, although that meant banning some of the most potent healing draughts known to wizard kind. Some potions were meant to have harming affects; it was the intent that made them dark. Adficio Affectus was a category five potion, fulfilling both restriction clauses.

"I have heard of it. There is, however, no recording of the potion anywhere, and the last master to brew it was destroyed about fifty years ago." Snape tried to remain as calm as he possibly could. The smile that was forming on Lucius's lips made his insides crawl. There was nothing pleasant about the blond man's obvious enjoyment.

"Oh, but there is an old book that belonged to an Alchemist. As a matter of fact, I told you earlier that our lord had made a discovery. The ingredients are being gathered as we speak." Malfoy's eyes were flashing now, something that had not happened since he had been sent to Azkaban. It was a look that screamed malevolence.

Severus remained upright in his chair, his hands clasped tightly together. He looked cool and collected, but his hands were sweating profusely. He dreaded the answer to the question he knew Malfoy was waiting for. "Who will brew the potion?"

Lucius Malfoy chuckled, an unpleasant sound that could have frozen fire. "Why, you of course. That's why I was sent. He requests your presence at the next gathering to relate the details to you."

Snape felt faint – a gathering. He hadn't faced his master for more that three months. Being summoned was always straining, but his role had made it easier to deal with the events that happened when the 'business' part was over and the 'party' began. He could give his lord excuses as to why he couldn't stay and was usually allowed to take his leave. Once, during the holidays after the disaster at the Ministry, he was forced to stay. The events that had unfolded before his eyes had literally made him sick.

The little bottle of poison in his cloak started to pound in time with his heartbeat.

~o~o~o~

It was more than a little difficult to get into a hospital room outside of visiting hours. Charlie and Bill had waited until nightfall before returning to St Bartholomew's. What made the whole situation more difficult was that they couldn't use magic here. There were too many people, and a stray charm could cause a lot of injuries.

Draco Malfoy's room was on the third floor. The room number had been coaxed out of a young nurse. Charlie had played the concerned friend, and after some compliments, had gotten the information they sought.

The elevator came to an abrupt halt. The two young men looked up and down the corridor. Other than the core of the building, the west wing was illuminated by a garish, extremely bright light, and the smell of disinfectant agent was heavy in the air.

Room 302 was the last one on the right. Bill peeked inside, and gave his brother a curt nod before they both slipped in, and closed and warded the door. Hearing a gasp from across the room, the two redheads turned to the only occupied bed. Draco was propped up on some pillows, a book hovering above his face. He looked very pale and thin. His body gave an involuntary shudder. The medication numbed the pain, but the spasms continued to wrack the blond's worn out body.

The two Weasleys approached the bed carefully. It was obvious that Malfoy needed magical help to recover. "We have come to get some questions answered," Bill stated calmly. "But first we will get you to Madam Pomfrey."

"What makes you think I'll go with you, Weasley," Malfoy ground out with effort, his body gave another mighty shudder.

"You need proper healing and nourishment by the look of things," Charlie said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to help an enemy. Draco's face contorted in pain; he needed another dose of morphine.

"See it this way, Malfoy. We help you get out of here, and after you've recovered, you'll answer some questions for us," Bill said, moving to stand next to the young man. Draco knew that agreeing could get him into prison in the end, but the pain was excruciating at times and he was already addicted to the pain killers. He had no doubt that they would keep their part of the bargain. He had developed a new appreciation for Gryffindor's since he had confronted Dumbledore on the Astronomy tower. The Weasleys and the other associates of the former headmaster could give him shelter, and he could finally pay the debt he owed. His first try had not been working for whatever reason.

~o~o~o~

It was almost four in the morning when Hermione heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She had been pacing about the room until her feet got too cold and her skin broke out in goosebumps. For the last thirty minutes she had simply stared at the closed door, the bed covers drawn up to her nose, her wand still clutched in her hand.

The steps came nearer. Hermione held her breath and concentrated on the hex she might use if anyone but Severus entered the room. The door was pushed open carefully and the young witch relaxed at the sight of her former teacher. When he reached for the clasp of his cloak, she remembered the issue she needed to address. As time had dragged by, her worry for both their lives had driven all other thoughts out of her mind.

The sleeping arrangements had to be addressed, but she didn't know how to do that. She had closed her eyes when he rid himself of the constricting frock coat. The mattress dipped in beside her and her eyes snapped open. Severus was now removing his boots. Hermione became panicky when he reached for the buckle.

"Severus, I don't..."

"For once in your life, Miss Granger, hold your tongue. I am tired and have no energy to listen to your chatter," Severus snarled with venom.

Hermione winced at the harsh tone. The polite façade he had put on for her had dropped. Tears stung her eyes. She moved as far away from him as she could and turned her back to the dark man. He didn't really care. The thought hurt her more than she would have liked. It was easier to be so isolated from her friends when she could hold on to the belief that Snape cared for her safety. But it seemed that she would eventually have to pay a price for it.

It didn't take long before Hermione realized that Snape's breathing had evened out. Quietly, she left the bed and padded barefoot into the bathroom, where she sat down in the corner, hidden from view by the large bath tube, and cried herself to sleep.