Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"What?"

"Let me get you some food and a change of clothes, at least."

Draco looked at him blankly for a moment before nodding. Charlie took off jogging towards his tent, his mind racing even faster than his feet. Something very odd is going on, he thought, as he threw together a quick bundle of food and some clothes — some jeans and a pile of sweaters, the boy was obviously freezing. But it's June, said a voice in the back of his head. Why is he so cold?

He was halfway positive that Draco would be gone by the time he got back, but he was still there, a quiet and oddly forlorn huddle of dark clothing and pale, untidy hair sitting at the base of the tree, holding his Firebolt across his lap as if it were a weapon.

Charlie stopped dead and stared at him. "Draco," he said. "Where's the sword? Did Sirius take it?"

"I gave it away," said Draco, standing up and flashing Charlie an smile that would give him nightmares for several years. "It'll come back. It's with me now, even when it isn't with me." With which nonsensical statement he reached out and took the bundle of clothes and food out of Charlie's unresisting hands.

"Be careful," said Charlie, realizing how inadequate this sounded.

"Come back if you need — "

"Thanks, Charlie," Draco interrupted, got on his Firebolt, and took off.

Charlie was both sorry and not sorry to see him go.

Lupin followed Sirius down the crowded hallway at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. As they approached the room where they had been told Dumbledore was, they saw a crowd of people gathered there. Reporters — Lupin recognized the banana-yellow robes and glittering spectacles of Rita Skeeter — doctors, and half-hysterical Ministry beaurocrats milled about like ants.

Sirius and Lupin pushed their way through the knot of people, only to be stopped at the door by a white-coated mediwizard wearing glasses and a harassed expression. He threw out an arm to block their progress. "This area is off-limits."

Sirius crossed his arms over his chest and glared. "And who are you?"

The mediwizard looked insulted. "I'm Dr. Simon Branford. I'm in charge of this floor, and this room is off-limits to everyone except-"

"I'm Sirius Black," interrupted Sirius. "I was sent for. By the Ministry."

"You're Sirius Black?" The mediwizard lowered his arm, looking sideways at Sirius. There had been a time when Sirius' face had been familiar to the entire wizarding community, but of course he looked very different now. "You'd better come in," he said. "We've been expecting you."

Sirius was about to say something rude when Lupin interceded hastily. "Thank you," he said to the doctor, who nodded his head in acknowledgement and quickly pushed the door open, gesturing Sirius in ahead of him. Dr. Branford ducked after him, and Lupin followed.

They found themselves in a narrow hallway with a single door leading off it. "There are two things I need to tell you," said the doctor, turning to face Lupin and Sirius. "One is that your wife sent a message to our Administrator for me to give to you." He looked doubtfully at Sirius, who didn't bother to correct him in regards to Narcissa, just raised an eyebrow. "She said that Draco is gone and they don't know where to find him. I assume that means something to you?"

"Yes," said Sirius, a little shortly, and exchanged a quick glance with Lupin. "That means something to me."

"The second thing," continued the mediwizard, "is that Professor Dumbledore is in a state of what we call magical stasis. Only a very limited amount of pre-approved magic can be performed in his presence. Please keep your wands in your pockets. Understood?"

Lupin and Sirius nodded their acquiescence, and followed Dr.

Branford through the single door and a mid-size hospital room with white-scrubbed stone walls. The centerpiece of the room was a large bed on which lay Albus Dumbledore, a white coverlet pulled up to his chest, his eyes shut. Lupin's heart contracted to see how old and helpless he looked. Sirius was standing by the side of the bed, his hands knotted together, his face expressionless. The doctor, clutching his chart and looking very unhappy, stood at Sirius' side.

Lupin approached the center of the room, the nerves along his spine prickling. The aura of Dark magic, faint but palpable, hung over the bed and the frail-looking man who lay there. Lupin glanced over at the doctor. "Is he going to die?"

"We don't know. He isn't dying now. Not exactly. He's in stasis. His vital signs are steady, but he can't be woken, nor does he respond to stimuli-"

"What happened to him?" interrupted Sirius, not taking his eyes off Dumbledore. "The letter said Dementors. But Dumbledore could have handled Dementors. Was there something else?"

'A very astute observation, Black," came a sarcastic voice from the door.

Lupin and Sirius turned, and stared, Lupin with astonishment and Sirius with horror.

It was Severus Snape.

He hadn't changed since the last time Lupin had seen him, three years ago now, in the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The same sallow face, dominated by hooded eyes and a sour expression. He wore starched black robes, the left arm wound with the green band that marked him as the Head of Slytherin House, his right arm banded with the yellow that meant he was on Ministry business.

Lupin saw Sirius' eyes flick towards Snape's arm and knew he had noted it too.

"Professor Snape," said the mediwizard, sounding relieved.

Snape stalked past them all without favoring them with a glance, sat himself in one of the chairs next to Dumbledore's bedside, and began removing items from the pockets of his robes — Lupin glimpsed a mortar and pestle, a bag of what might have been beetle shells, and some kind of flask.

Sirius immediately sat himself down in another of the chairs, and glared at the Potions master. "What are you doing here, Snape?"

"Ministry business, obviously." Snape looked at Sirius with smooth malice. "I think the question is, what are you doing here?"

"The Ministry sent for me, too," snapped Sirius. "Dumbledore was on his way to see me when he was attacked. I believe they thought I could shed some light on the situation."

Snape glanced up at the doctor, who nodded.

"Perhaps nobody told you," said Snape, who had begun doing something with his mortar and pestle that Lupin couldn't quite make out; Snape's gestures were hidden my the voluminous sleeves of his robes. "Dumbledore established with the Ministry last year that if anything untoward were to happen to him, I should be in charge of the investigation into the circumstances. He gave me detained instructions, which I am following." He gave them a thin smile. "I trust you are not planning to challenge his authority in this matter?"

"What happened to Fudge and Dumbledore?" asked Lupin, trying to keep the suspicion and hostility out of his voice. "We heard Dementors-"

"Fudge is dead; you know that, of course. They're in the process of choosing a new Minister as we speak. And it wasn't Dementors,"

Snape added, his mouth curving violently downward. "Or at least, it wasn't only Dementors. They were attacked by what looked like Dementors, but the Ministry believes that that was simply illusion magic, a glamour. It looks to have been the work of a powerful Dark wizard — one more powerful even than Voldemort."

"So who was it?" Sirius snapped. Lupin could see by the slight nervous tic at the edge of Sirius' eye that always appeared when he was very annoyed, that he was forcibly restraining himself from lunging across the bed and physically beating the answers he wanted out of Snape.

"We don't know," said Snape. "That's what I'm here to find out."

"Find out from whom?"

"From Dumbledore," said Snape, quietly.