Кассандра Клэр - Draco Sinister

"She loves him now," said Sirius slowly. "But I wouldn't say that that's made him happy, exactly."

"What we think we want is not always what he really do want," said Dumbledore. "And remember, the intelligence that is trying to fulfill his wishes is a malign one. It sees that he wants Hermione to love him-presto, she loves him It would never grasp that there is more to the wish than the outward appearance of devotion, never grasp why induced love is not and cannot be satisfactory."

"What does the sword want?"

"A life," said Dumbledore simply. "What it was cheated of when Slytherin performed the magic that made him immortal.

Specifically, the life of a Magid. Even more specifically, the life of a Magid with Slytherin blood. That was the original bargain. If the sword cannot have the life of Slytherin himself, it will take the life of one his descendants."

"Draco's life," said Sirius, looking pale.

"Not necessarily Draco," said Dumbledore, looking very grave. "It could just as well be Harry."

Sirius goggled at him. "Harry? But Harry is the heir of Gryffindor."

"Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin were cousins," said Dumbledore, sounding very calm. All very well for him to be calm, thought Sirius irrationally. He's not even really here. "Harry's blood will do just as well as Draco's to fill the bargain."

Lupin suddenly leaped to his feet and began pacing. "That explains so many things," he said, excitedly.

"Does it?" said Sirius, hoping he didn't look quite as blank as he felt.

All this talk of Harry's blood and Harry's life was beginning to make him feel panicky, and he was rarely at his best when he was panicked. He fought down the feeling, and looked over at Lupin.

"What does that explain?"

"I've been puzzling over what re-animated the sword in the first place, what brought it back to life, so to speak. The prophecy states that the sword must be wielded by a descendant of Slytherin for its power to return, but you told me that Draco had never used it, just carried it around. But Harry used the sword; Harry attacked Lucius Malfoy with it. Drew his blood."

"Correct," said Dumbledore.

"Then why didn't the sword just stick with Harry?" asked Sirius, hoping the question made sense. "Why does it seem to have attached itself to Draco?"

"It would attach itself to whichever of them seemed easier to manipulate," said Dumbledore. "The sword is in the business of fulfilling wishes. What does Harry have to wish for? Certainly he might want his parents back, but the sword can't raise the dead.

Draco's wishes, though. Much simpler. Makes him easier to control."

"So, Harry, is Harry in danger as well as Draco?"

Dumbledore looked grave. "He's in danger from Draco. If Draco has, as, you say, run off, I would imagine he did it to some extent to protect Harry. He must know what is wanted of him."

Sirius' jaw dropped. "You can't mean that he was afraid he might kill Harry?"

Dumbledore just looked at him. Translucent though he was, his gaze was still piercing.

Sirius swore.

"He did say he couldn't promise us he wasn't dangerous," said Lupin softly.

"We have to find him," said Sirius.

"I agree," said Dumbledore quietly. "It is imperative."

Lupin cleared his throat. "I believe that the sword allows him to cloak his location to some degree. I would try a Locating Charm, but I'm fairly sure it wouldn't work."

"No," said Dumbledore. His voice sounded faint. Glancing up, Sirius saw that his form had begun to blur around the edges. "No, that would accomplish nothing. And he's taken the Epicyclical Charm with him, hasn't he? A very thorough young man--" Dumbledore's voice suddenly wavered and grew inaudible, as if it were being choked off in mist. He seemed to be growing even more transparent

— Sirius thought he could see the stones in the opposite wall through the Headmaster's wavering form. We're losing him.

Sirius leaned forward, gripping the arms of his chair. "Professor-"

For a moment, the wavering outline of the Headmaster grew clearer.

"Harry," he said. "Harry can find him. They may chosen to shut down the connection that exists between them, but it is still there.

Harry can reopen it, if he so chooses."

Sirius heard his own voice crack. "How can he do that?"

But when Dumbledore spoke again, his voice rippled like a voice heard underwater, unintelligible. Sirius fought back the urge to leap to his feet and reach out for the Headmaster's wavering form — he thought he saw Dumbledore look at him and wink, before the shards of mist that had held his form flew apart, dissolving into the air.

Sirius' eyes dropped to the still form of the man on the bed, whose chest still rose and fell with his quiet breathing. He felt Lupin's hand on his shoulder again, in sympathy rather than restraint this time. "I haven't the faintest idea what to do, Moony," Sirius said quietly.

"Tell me what to do."

"I suppose the first thing we should do is talk to Harry. He needs to know what's going on. If he wants to help us find someone who may or may not be impelled to kill him — and I know you're going to say it isn't Draco's fault, I realize that's true, but there it is — I just think it should Harry's decision. Don't you agree?"

Sirius didn't reply. "Do you think the Ministry should be alerted that Draco's missing?"

Lupin hesitated. Sirius knew he harbored a healthy distrust for the Ministry and its beaurocrats, who up until 1950 had had a "kill first, ask questions later" policy when it came to werewolves. "I'd rather see if Harry can locate him first."

They both turned as the door opened, admitting Snape. Sirius felt the familiar uncontrolled lurch of dislike in his stomach that he always felt upon seeing him. Snape seemed unsurprised that Dumbledore was gone; he approached the bedside table and began sweeping the belongings he had left there — mortar, pestle, flask -

into his pockets.

Sirius glanced up, a quizzical look on his face. "It's awfully quiet all of a sudden," he said.

Lupin cleared his throat, looking at Snape. It sounds as if the reporters are gone," he said. "Did you, er, get rid of them?"

The Potions master shook his greasy head. "No. I didn't. They found a more interesting story down the hall."

Lupin blinked. "A more interesting story….?"

Snape straightened up and gave them both a sallow smile. "Down the hall is the wing that houses the criminally insane. As of this morning, it houses one less of them."

Sirius looked at him blankly.

"Lucius Malfoy is dead," said Snape. "Murdered in his cell."

"Bugger off and quit following me, Black."

Sirius was stalking down the corridor towards the wing of St.

Mungo's that housed the criminally insane. Snape was by his side, the banked fire in his beetle-black eyes betraying his fury. He spun around, walking backwards, glaring at Sirius with undiluted hatred:

"Go home. This is Ministry business."

Sirius shook his head, still walking: "I'm not going home. I'm going to see what happened to Lucius Malfoy. I've got a right."

"You've got no right. The guards will never let you in. Lucius Malfoy's death is no concern of yours."

"It is my concern!" Sirius felt the fury boil up inside his chest. "He's my son's father. I mean, my stepson's father. Look, it really isn't any business of yours, you goat-faced, weasel-footed tosser. Why don't you just bugger off back to whatever hellhole you crawled out of?"

They were nearing the end of the hallway, now; Sirius could see a tight knot of Ministry Wizards standing in front of a numbered cell door. Snape glanced at them, then coldly at Sirius. "I am here representing the Ministry. Looking into Lucius Malfoy's death is part of my job here. You, on the other hand, are merely a blot on the landscape, contributing nothing."