Hey everyone! Just in case you were wondering why the MC is named Patrik instead of the traditional UK spelling, Patrick—it's because that's my own name. Since the character is essentially my presence in the HP world, I decided to stick with my spelling, even if it's technically unconventional for the setting. :D
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"Sure, Draco, give me a second."
"I'll wait for you in my room," he nodded and headed upstairs to wait for me.
"Take off your robes, Patrik," Tobias commanded with a smile, clearly thrilled to finally have a chance to try out a healing spell. Of course, I obeyed. One should always listen to amateur doctors... as long as they aren't spouting nonsense and conspiracies. With a fluid motion, I unbuttoned my robes and pulled them off my shoulders. Beneath, I wore only a white shirt, already stained with blood at the shoulder. You know how it is—on a white shirt, even a drop of blood spreads as if they'd slaughtered a pig.
Agnes looked as though she might faint at any moment; she was deathly pale. I tried to cheer her up. "Steady on, Agnes, you're not getting rid of me today," I said, a hint of laughter in my voice, while gesturing to Tobias to get a move on before she collapsed on us.
With a quick movement, he brushed aside the cut fabric and aimed his wand: "Episkey!"
A white light sank into the wound, and I felt the sliced tissue knitting back together. However, a small gap still remained. Tobias noticed it too and repeated the spell with intense concentration.
"Episkey!"
This time, the wound closed completely. I ran a finger over it. I could feel that a faint scar would remain, though I couldn't see it through the dried blood. Was it there because of Tobias's lack of experience? Honestly, I didn't care—one scar more or less. I had plenty in my previous life, though in this world, it was my first from a real fight.
Agnes watched me anxiously, and when she saw I was alright, she let out a sigh of relief. That didn't stop her, however, from handing me a Wiggenweld Potion we had painstakingly "nicked" from Snape's class. I saw there was no point in arguing, so I took it.
"Bottoms up, Patrik," she ordered bossily, a trace of a smile on her lips.
I obeyed, and it was the foulest taste I had ever experienced. I no longer wondered why Potter had such an aversion to the potions in the Hospital Wing. It tasted so wretched that for a moment, I doubted whether bleeding out might not have been the better option. My face contorted in disgust, which finally made the others laugh.
"Thanks," I said sourly and began to head up after Draco. I didn't know what he was up to, but that serious expression and his concern had piqued my curiosity.
I went straight to his room; it was right next to ours. After a brief knock, I entered. The room was empty except for Draco and looked exactly like ours—same size, same furnishings.
"What did you want, Draco?" I asked immediately, not wanting to beat around the bush.
Draco wasn't looking at me. He was staring into space in front of his bed. After a moment, he fixed a troubled gaze on me and beckoned for me to sit on the bed opposite him. He was acting exceptionally strange, so I complied. He studied me in silence for a while before finally speaking in a low, conversational voice.
"You know, when I was little, my mother used to look at me in a very specific way. With this strange sort of concern. I was always aware of it, but I never gave it much thought. My toys and my toy broomstick were enough; I was happy," Draco paused, his gaze becoming distant as if wandering through memories. "Until one day, Crabbe and Goyle were over at our place... We got into a fight over some stupidity. Naturally, as a proper Malfoy, I won. But I'll never forget the terrified look on my mother's face when she saw me standing over Crabbe."
Silence fell. I wondered what he was trying to tell me. What did a childhood scrap over a toy have to do with my duel against Blanár?
"Do you know what followed, Patrik?"
"I don't know. Did she take away your toy broom?" I asked with an amused smile. Draco didn't even smirk.
"An interrogation, Patrik," he paused again. "She asked: What were you feeling, Draco? Were you glad you won? Did you want to cause him pain? Do you feel like doing it again? While my father just stared at me silently with a vacant expression, as if his mind were elsewhere."
I was beginning to suspect where he was going with this. I listened on in silence.
"Of course, it was just over a toy, and Crabbe was fine. I hadn't hurt him at all, and eventually, I calmed my parents down. Mother stopped looking at me as if I were about to turn into a monster at any second. But I only understood her look much later. She was afraid I had inherited the legendary Black madness. She's still afraid it might manifest in me..." He went quiet again, eyeing me scrutinisingly.
„How could he know I had inherited it? Surely, enjoying a fight couldn't make me the only one in the wizarding world..." I thought intensely. „Should I deny it? Or confess?"
He didn't wait for my answer and started talking again.
"You know, from the first moment I saw you, I felt like I was looking in a mirror. I couldn't stop thinking about it... We don't have the same colouring, and our builds are different. But the facial features? Our lips and noses are similar. Of course, you're a Rosier and my grandmother was Druella Rosier-Black, so I took it for granted that we looked alike—we're second cousins, after all. But over Christmas, when my mother was showing me childhood photos, I realised those shared features aren't from the Rosiers, but from the Blacks."
A deathly silence filled the room. Draco began to smirk with satisfaction.
"My mother has the same nose and lips as I do. And do you know who else?" he asked with amusement. He didn't wait for my answer. "Aunt Bellatrix and Andromeda. Of course... I could have been wrong. The Rosier line has been linked with the Blacks for a long time, but... you know, nobody knows who your mother is. I tried to find out, but with no success. Until now, during that duel, I saw in you exactly what my mother feared so much." He fixed an inquisitive look on me. "Is Bellatrix your mother? Did she cheat on her husband with your father?"
"Clever little bastard," I thought to myself, amused.
I must have been quiet longer than was healthy because Draco spoke up again: "Well? What's the word, cousin?"
"No, Bellatrix is not my mother," I answered honestly.
"Don't lie! You've inherited the Black madness just like she did," he blurted out instantly, incredulous.
I shook my head in amusement. "Sorry, but Bellatrix really isn't my mother. As far as I know, she's been in love with the Dark Lord from the first moment she met him."
"But what about the madness? Everyone saw it, and anyone who knows even a bit of history will recognise it in you. I don't believe you're not a Black," Draco concluded dismissively.
"What do you mean, everyone will recognise it?"
He glared at me in disbelief, but after a moment, understanding dawned in his eyes. "Muggle orphanage, right," he muttered, and immediately began to explain: "The Black madness is legendary and feared. Originally, it was called a gift. In any battle where a Black with this madness appeared, the fight was won before it began. Rumours flew that if someone saw a laughing Black, they should run immediately. As the power of the family members waned, the gift still appeared... but when one of them overreached and fell in battle, the family dwindled. The gift started skipping generations. When it appeared later, it usually meant an early death in a senseless duel, so they started calling it a curse. A small provocation was enough for the Dark Arts to start flying. It was exactly like that with Aunt Bellatrix. Everyone from her school days remembers her. They say it originated in the family's early days through old Norse ritual magic, so that warriors would never retreat," he paused for a second and added: "At least, that's how my mother explained it to me."
"Hm, interesting. I just happen to enjoy fighting," I replied with a smile.
Draco stared at me in silence, disapproving and skeptical. After a while, however, he couldn't help himself. "We're family, you don't have to hide it. You can tell me... I'll help you, and I won't tell a soul," he promised me with total gravity.
It was interesting how the books had left out all of Draco's qualities. He might have been a spoiled brat, but he certainly wasn't stupid, and he seemed to truly value his blood. Actually, what did I have to lose if it were known my mother was a Black? Bellatrix would be in Azkaban for another four years, and no one else wanted to hurt me. If anything, Voldemort would be pleased; he'd likely think I'd just be another one of his masked slaves.
"Seriously, you have my word," Draco repeated.
"Fine, Draco. I'll tell you, but you must keep it to yourself." I waited for his nod. "Does the name Carina Black mean anything to you?"
He shook his head, so I continued. "She was Bellatrix's twin. Long story short—she was born without magic, and the family disowned her. The Rosiers took her in. My parents fell in love, and I was born. Then Moody showed up, my father ended up in Azkaban, my mother died, and I went to an orphanage."
Draco stared at me, eyes wide. Then he recovered. "My mother would definitely love to meet you. You could come over for a few days in the summer," he began to suggest excitedly.
I expected him to have reservations about his Squib aunt, but he ignored it completely. Strange. I tried not to use Legilimency on him—he is my cousin, after all—but now I was too curious. I did just a quick emotional scan.
Loneliness. Followed immediately by joy. Those were his strongest feelings.
I understood him now. He was a bright lad from a wealthy family, but Crabbe and Goyle were just paid lackeys. He'd never had a real friend, someone on his level, until now.
"No, Draco. I don't want your mother to know about me. You'll keep this to yourself, as you promised," I told him sternly.
Draco nodded slowly, though I saw disappointment in his eyes that he couldn't present me to his mother as some "lost family treasure." He respected my choice, however.
"Anything else on your mind?" I asked; I felt like finally heading to the Room of Requirement.
He shook his head dejectedly. He looked like an abandoned puppy, and I felt a bit sorry for him.
"You can join us if you like," I suggested. "We're training magic and duelling, quite hard..."
Draco snapped his head up, and the disappointment vanished. "NÁSIE! Tuluvanyë!" he blurted out, pure excitement vibrating in his voice. "I'll be there, I promise!"
With a nod, I went to change my blood-stained shirt and finally head for the Room of Requirement. I changed quickly. The harder part, however, was slipping through the Common Room without everyone else latching onto me.
I had no luck. The Common Room was still full, and even on the way down the stairs, I could hear excited voices discussing our duel. Agnes was playing against Tobias this time. As soon as I came down, Theodore pointed me out, and the whole room went silent. It was bloody annoying; I didn't like being the centre of attention like this.
I went straight to them. "I'm going for a short walk," I announced.
Agnes immediately conceded her king to the loud protests of her pieces and stood up. "Theo, play against Tobias, I'm going with Patrik."
"That's not necessary, Agnes, stay and play," I protested.
"You were injured a moment ago, someone needs to keep an eye on you," she shook her head, then looked directly into my eyes with those big blue ones. "Or do you perhaps not want me with you?"
I knew that if I said "no," it would be a huge mistake... and I clearly had a weakness for those puppy eyes of hers. Defeated, I slumped my shoulders. With a satisfied smile, she immediately pulled me out.
"Sly little dragoness," I thought heavily.
It didn't take long before we were on the seventh floor in front of the painting of the madman trying to teach trolls ballet.
This time, I was the one opening the Room of Requirement. I decided to try for a lounge where I could talk to Agnes in peace. I walked past the blank wall three times until a massive door appeared. I opened it and, like a proper gentleman, held it for Agnes.
"Wow, wasn't this just supposed to be a training room?" she asked in surprise as she stepped into an exact replica of the lounge from our Rosier estate.
"This room can be anything you can imagine," I replied enthusiastically.
I didn't even have to fake the enthusiasm. I vividly imagined spending time here later with some attractive student, and instead of a lounge, there'd be a hot pool or a large, luxurious bed. For now, though, the training room was enough.
I sat down, and Agnes followed suit.
"Do you remember, Agnes, when you brought Potter to the classroom?"
"Yes, sure. What about it?"
"I offered him a little deal that might suit him," I began to explain. "It's about a ritual that cleanses a person and gets rid of foreign magic in their body."
"Aren't rituals dangerous?" Agnes asked curiously. "Did Potter accept? What would he need it for?"
"They are and they aren't... it depends on which ones. If you know what you're doing, they're safe. I've undergone it myself. And Potter? Well, he lives in the Muggle world and it would be useful for him if he could use magic there without the Ministry knowing."
"Ah, I see. Where did you learn rituals? I thought everyone in England avoided them," she remarked thoughtfully.
"Why would people in England avoid them?" I asked curiously.
"Well, since the Ministry banned them... and a few centuries back, there was some incident. I don't remember exactly, but it involved some large sacrifice. I read about it in our library, but I wasn't interested, so I didn't bother with it."
"Hm. I learned it from a book by Morgan le Fay."
"Where on earth did you get a book by Morgan le Fay? Rumour has it her enemies burned all her writings! It must be incredibly rare," she cried out excitedly. "I wish I were that powerful," she added dreamily.
"Back to the matter at hand, Agnes. Potter hasn't accepted my offer yet, but I promised him that if he agrees, he'll see the ritual with his own eyes on someone else. Since I've already undergone it and don't have Ministry tracking on me, I don't need it a second time. Would you like to undergo it?" I suggested calmly. "It would be useful if you ever found yourself outside the magical world."
"Is it safe? And what do you want for it?" she asked cautiously.
"Completely safe. A standard ritual, no permanent side effects and nothing complicated. And what do I want for it? Nothing, of course. You're my friend, aren't you?" I finished with a smile.
Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she shyly looked down. After a moment, however, she looked up and nodded. "Alright, I'll do it, if it's safe," she paused for a moment, staring into space, and added: "And for your information, you're my friend too! My best!"
I laughed in amusement, and after a moment, Agnes joined me. We sat there in the lounge before the black marble fireplace, enjoying our friendship. Who would have thought that in such a short time, she would grow so close to my heart?
***
Author's note:
Isn't Draco such a clever little cookie? He might be a spoiled brat, but you certainly can't deny his wit and cunning. Also, did any of you catch that Tolkien Elvish he slipped in there? :D
Agnes is just being Agnes, of course, but her presence brings up an interesting question: why on earth was a book by Morgan le Fay selling so cheaply at Borgin and Burkes?
***
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Upcoming Chapters – Already Written:
39. HP: The Boy Invisible
40. Theory, Tears, and Hidden Things
41. A Potter's Ambition
42. Pain as a Teacher
43. Blood and Runes
44. Blood, Sweat, and Special Editions
45. Precision of Water, Chaos of Rage
46. The Unseen Blade
47. The Blood Connection
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