I Don't Want to be a Hero - Ch. 21

The Lure - Sunday, 20 Oct. 1991

Harry was released from the Infirmary early in the morning. He ate breakfast with Ron, and Hermione, and then joined Draco to do some exploring of the castle. They met outside of the Great Hall and Draco appeared to be bursting with some news.

"Did you guys hear about the robbery?" Draco asked.

"Oh! I read about it a few weeks ago," declared Hermione. "Have the goblins caught someone?"

Draco shook his head and showed his friends the morning Daily Prophet. "The goblins are mad. They want the head of whoever took something from one of their vaults!"

"Literally?" asked Harry.

"Yep," said Ron. "They're blood-thirsty blokes."

Harry grimaced. After a few moments he asked Draco, "What was taken?"

"Something belonging to Nicholas Flamel," replied Draco.

"Who's Nicholas Flamel?" asked Harry and Ron at the same time.

Hermione chipped in, "I read up on him when I first read about the robbery. He was a very famous alchemist that lived about 600 years ago. In fact, there's a rumour that he's still alive!"

"Really?" asked Draco. "I've heard of him but I thought he was dead. It would be cool if he were still alive."

Ron nodded, "Yeah, it would be but how could he live that long?"

"The Philosopher's Stone," informed Hermione. "Look here." Hermione dug around in her book bag then pulled out a Chocolate Frog card. "When I was looking for more information on him I found this while I was eating a chocolate frog Draco gave me."

They all stopped to look at the card. Nicholas Flamel waved at the students, and Ron waved back. Harry read aloud, "Nicholas Flamel was a well-known alchemist and only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone, a legendary substance with incredible powers. He was a close friend and partner with Hogwarts School Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. He owed his considerable age to the Elixir of Life which he and his wife, Perenelle, created using the Stone. They are currently aged six hundred sixty-five and six hundred fifty-eight, respectively."

"Woahhhhh!" breathed Ron.

"That can't be true, though," scoffed Hermione. "Can it?"

Ron replied, "It's a chocolate frog card, 'Mione! If you can't trust the cards for the right information... well, what can you trust?"

"Books," said Hermione definitively.

"You trust books too much, Hermione," commented Harry. "They aren't infallible because they are written by people... who are fallible."

Hermione frowned darkly. Draco chuckled, "He's right."

"He sounds like Snape," snorted Ron.

They all broke into laughter as Harry blushed. "Do not," he mumbled. Inwardly he thought it might not be a bad thing to sound like Professor Snape.

In that moment Draco slipped his hand into the door handle of the wooden door they faced, and pulled it open. A cacophonous barking of thunderous proportions had all four children screaming in terror.

"Look out, Draco!" screamed Ron as he tried to pull his friend Harry from the slavering jaws of drool, teeth, and spit that swept down at him from above.

Hermione had grabbed onto Draco's robes but screeched as she was dislodged by a huge nose that lifted her up into the air and threw her across the corridor. Draco was already screaming, and if anything, he did so louder as he felt his forearm where his hand was trapped in the door handle, was bitten. The bone crunched as the flesh cried with spurting blood.

Hermione was dazed but not enough to stay where she was when Draco was being hurt. She pushed to her feet, wobbled quickly over, and caught the hem of Draco's robe just as a giant maw lifted him up into the air. Harry pulled away from Ron, jumped up, and caught Draco's feet. Ron shouted at the three heads that appeared like a nightmare version of Hagrid's dog, Fang. When that seemed to do nothing he did the foolishly brave thing and dove for a wrinkle of big, black skin and sank his teeth into it.

The dog yowled in pain from two of its heads, the third head let go of Draco and Harry, Hermione, and Draco fell to the ground. Ron dashed away from the nightmare dog, took out his wand, and zapped it with the Stinging Hex Fred had been trying to show him. The nightmare dog yelped again and stepped back to get away from what was causing it pain. Ron grabbed the door and tried to slam it shut. Harry, recovered from the drop, scrambled to his feet and added his weight to the door. Finally, it slammed shut. Behind the door the 3-headed dog barked angrily.

"Harry! Ron!" shouted Hermione. "I can't stop the bleeding! We've got to get Draco to the Infirmary!"

Severus Snape was in his sitting room, in his favourite chair trying to read but he was thinking about Harry again. A subject that took up a great deal of his time these days. When his Floo flames whooshed from orange to green he looked up to hear, "Permission to come through, Severus!"

"Come, Lucius," replied the Potions Master.

The Pureblooded wizard stepped smoothly through the green flames. With his wand he Vanished the soot that had fallen on his clothing. He then nodded to his host.

"Severus, by Draco's letter am I to understand that... things have been busy in the castle?" Lucius seated himself in a chair that was the mirror to Severus' chair.

"I gather that Draco sent you a missive that has discussed more than his new circle of friends, Lucius," drawled Severus.

"Making Harry Potter his friend was... well, unexpected as I was afraid Draco's inherent... snobbishness had destroyed that avenue. However, he quite surprised me. Then I read he has also befriended the youngest Weasley. Impressive." Lucius had pulled off his gloves, and tucked them into his waistcoat.

"Have you begun sealing the rift between yourself and Arthur?"

Lucius nodded. "It has not been the easiest task. Arthur is not... the pushover I long thought him to be. He is a shrewd man who understands the difficulties we face, yet he is also mindful of the fact that I wish to keep my family safe."

"And, how is Narcissa taking this?" Severus closed his book, tapped the coffee table, where Harry wanted to keep doing his homework, with his wand to order tea to be sent up from the kitchen.

"Stubborn. She does not want to embrace the changes in our world but she values her son, and her marriage to me." Lucius smiled genially. "It will take time but she will see the merit of what I do."

"Perhaps," murmured Severus. "Narcissa is a Black, though, and she comes from very staunch Dark roots."

Lucius sneered, "Say what you mean, Severus."

He lifted his eyes from the book still in his lap. Finally he spoke, "Narcissa has never blanched in promoting the tenets of the Dark Lord. She has been outspoken about Pureblood superiority, and despite the obvious degenerative madness of Bellatrix, that is the sister she chose over Andromeda." Severus tapped his lower lip, as if remembering something. "Ah, yes. If I am not mistaken it was Narcissa who hired a wizard to kill Theodore Tonks after he married her sister, was it not?" Lucius only glared, and Severus smirked.

"Narcissa is my wife..." began Lucius.

"Of whom you have deceived with your execrable paramours since. Your marriage was a political maneuver that the Dark Lord orchestrated between Abraxas Malfoy and Orion Black; two of the wealthiest families in our world, and two of the Dark Lord's most powerful allies," growled Severus tautly. "If the Dark Lord truly comes back into power, and you are not supporting him financially, it is YOUR WIFE who will betray you, and you will be a dead man. All of this you know, Lucius. Other than Draco, what loyalty has she to you?"

"What do you expect me to do, Severus?" Lucius shouted. In that moment he showed not just his frustration but his fear. "I must do whatever I can to make my son safe!"

"And that is to make an ally of the Boy-Who-Lived?" spat Severus.

"He killed..."

Severus cut across the beginning of the wizard's argument. "Do not tell me you believe that insanity, Lucius," growled the younger wizard. "Harry Potter is an 11 year old boy with the magic any child his age has. And, you know as well as I he did not kill the Dark Lord."

Lucius nodded miserably. "That aside, Severus, to be a friend of the Boy-Who-Lived would not be a trivial thing."

"Notoriety is a shaky thing to rest your son's life upon, Lucius..." Severus shook his head. "No... you have more cunning than this. The Department of Mysteries, the UnSpeakables determined that the Killing Curse rebounded off the shield that Lily's Magical Sacrifice created to save her son. It separated spirit from body, and it was you and I that burned that fiend's body so that his spirit would not return."

Lucius gave the younger man an appraising look. "You, my friend... are up to... something."

Severus' slow smile was a near mirror of his dangerous drawl that he often used in class. His black eyes underlined his smile with sharp intent, and Lucius nearly flinched. "The Dark Lord is a spirit, Lucius. A disconnected, discarnate creature in search of a body. I have no doubt that HE is here, and Dumbledore knows it. Albus has set into motion an absolutely dim plan that will lead to the dis-corporeal becoming corporeal; in other words a living creature for his... hero... to kill."

Lucius was aghast and for once he did not withhold the shock he felt. "Your Headmaster is a mad-man, Severus." Lucius shook his head, rose from his chair and began to pace angrily. "A spirit can be dealt with, and Merlin knows we have been working to do so, but this. Albus is seriously attempting to bring the spirit back into flesh?"

"Harry revealed to me that in Defence Against the Dark Arts a curious thing happened to him; he heard the Dark Lord speak to him. I used my Legilimens to see the event in his mind... Lucius... there is no doubt. The accidents that have occurred make sense now... the children are being cruelly played with... Quirrell must be harboring the Dark Lord, and Harry somehow connected with the spirit." Severus' lips thinned. "And, fool that I am I had thought the child was the lure, something I had expected was certain when it was discovered your dear sister-in-law captured Harry, and nearly killed him." Severus' gaze narrowed into the dark depths of anger, "It is not the boy that is the lure for the spirit but the Philosopher's Stone."