Voldemort’s Heir
Chapter Thirteen
Hermione blinked in surprise as Eric emerged from the Room of Requirement, looking quite haggard. “Fyril! We were just coming to check on you and Harry,” she said. “What’s wrong? Where’s Harry?”
“Passed out in the Room of Requirement,” Eric responded, nodding at the tapestry behind him.
“What?!” Ron cried, his eyebrows shooting up.
“We were practicing Patronus,” Eric said, looking sheepish. “I couldn’t get the spell to work.”
“Oh God, don’t tell me Harry used the Room to summon a boggart,” Hermione said.
“Yeah,” Eric said. He frowned. “How’d you know?”
“He’s only our best friend,” Ron said dryly. “But he’s passed out?”
“Yeah,” Eric said. “I was just coming to find somebody to get him help.”
“You gave him chocolate, didn’t you?” Hermione asked.
Eric blinked. “Chocolate? He’s in shock. Chocolate is the last thing he needs.”
“Oh no,” Ron groaned.
“Ron, go find some chocolate,” Hermione instructed.
“Right,” Ron said, running back down the corridor.
Eric looked confused. “I don’t see how chocolate will help.”
“Haven’t you heard the Hershey’s commercial, ‘Hershey’s makes you smile’?” Hermione said.
Eric raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, but I wasn’t aware that the wizarding world was familiar with Hershey’s catchphrase.”
Hermione smiled. “You’ll be surprised what the wizarding world knows about Muggles.”
Suddenly Draco appeared, stalking toward them. “YOU LET HARRY CONFRONT A DEMENTOR?!” he shouted at Eric. “AND THEN DIDN’T GIVE HIM CHOCOLATE?!”
“Draco, please!” Hermione cried, startled.
“What are you, nuts?!” Draco snapped, lowering his tone of voice, but still glaring at Eric. “What the hell do you think you’re supposed to do when somebody’s under the influence of a dementor?”
“Hello, new kid on the block,” Eric growled, clenching his hands into fists.
“Let me in,” Draco snapped, glaring at the tapestry. “How do I get into this stupid room?!”
“Think about getting into there to Harry as you walk by the tapestry,” Hermione said.
Draco did as she said, grumbling under his breath as he paced. Ron and Jason appeared at the end of the corridor, making their way toward Hermione, Eric and Draco.
“Eric, what happened?” Jason asked.
Eric sighed and told Jason what had transpired. Draco snorted as Eric described what he had done.
“Covered him in a blanket?” Draco said. “How in the bloody hell is that supposed to help?”
“Draco, it’s called ‘first aid’,” Jason responded. “Eric was raised a Muggle, of course that’s the first thing he thought of.”
“You’re supposed to be teaching him Defense Against the Dark Arts!” Draco snapped back. “Didn’t you teach him about the effects of a dementor and how chocolate helps?”
“Once again, Eric was raised a Muggle,” Jason said in an even tone. “He would think of blankets and elevating the feet before potions and chocolate.”
“Give me that,” Hermione said, snatching the slab of chocolate Draco held in his hand. She knelt beside Harry, waving it under his nose. “C’mon, Harry, wake up.”
Draco shook his head. “If this is what you’re sending up against You-Know-Who, god help us all,” he said, shooting a disgusted look in Eric’s direction.
“I can handle it,” Eric said through clenched teeth.
“Draco, did you finish the potion?” Ron asked, crossing his arms over his chest as Harry began to slowly revive.
“Here, eat this,” Hermione said, breaking off a piece of the chocolate and handing it to Harry.
“It wasn’t Eric’s fault, Draco,” Harry said as he took the chocolate from Hermione.
“Harry!” Draco said, his eyes widening. “Thank God you’re okay. . .what the hell did you think you were doing? You know what happens when you get around a dementor!”
“Draco, we were practicing Eric’s Patronus,” Harry responded in between bites of chocolate.
“Well, obviously, his Patronus sucks,” Draco growled.
“Hey, back off,” Eric snapped. “I haven’t had much reason to be happy lately.”
“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said softly as she handed him the rest of the chocolate. “Did you finish the potion?”
Hermione shot Draco a withering glance. “Draco decided that since he was a better Potions student, he should be the one to make the potion.”
“It’s finished,” Draco confirmed, ignoring her look. “I don’t think you should go, Harry.”
“Draco,” Harry said.
“No, I mean it,” Draco argued. “You just went up against a dementor. You’re weak.”
“I’m fine,” Harry said. “Really.”
Draco hesitated for a moment, looking at Harry. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Harry responded.
“And how did you know Harry was in trouble anyway?” Eric said, frowning as he glanced at Draco.
Draco rolled his eyes. “We’re connected,” he said. “I just knew, okay?”
“Have either of you even slept?” Hermione asked.
Eric shook his head. “I can’t sleep,” he answered. “I’ve tried. I’m too aware of the empty space beside me.”
“Harry?” Hermione said, glancing at her friend.
Harry shrugged. “A couple of hours.”
“What?!” Hermione said, blinking. She glared at Draco. “I thought you said you two laid down.”
“We did!” Draco cried. “I thought Harry slept too!”
“I did, for a little bit,” Harry confessed, shrugging sheepishly. “I’m fine. I’m not tired.”
“You haven’t slept off the effects of the Cruciatus Curse and now you’ve just woken up from an encounter with a dementor and you expect to just waltz up to You-Know-Who and snatch Fyril’s wife away?” Draco shook his head. “I can’t believe you! No wonder you were in Gryffindor. It isn’t a sign of bravery, it’s a sign of stupidity!”
“Draco, come on,” Harry protested. “I’m fine.”
“No, I agree with Draco, Harry,” Hermione said. “You can’t face Voldemort on a couple of hours’ sleep. You need to rested. Have Snape make you a sleeping draught.”
“I’ll make it,” Draco snapped. “No reason to disturb Professor Snape.”
Hermione blushed. “Oh, yes, you’re right, Draco.”
Harry raised an eyebrow.
Draco shook his head. “You don’t want to know,” he responded. “I’ll just go make that sleeping draught.” He glanced at Eric, wrinkling his nose. “I can make you one too, if you like.”
“Oh, I’d hate to be a bother,” Eric said, glaring at Draco.
“Just make him one, Draco,” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes.
“Right,” Draco said. He gave Harry a soft kiss on one cheek. “No more dementors, all right?”
“All right,” Harry said, nodding.
******
“Very soon now,” Voldemort said.
Krista stood in front of his chair, her arms hugged over her chest. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because my grandson will help me come to power again,” Voldemort responded.
“He won’t go for it,” Krista said. “He’ll never do what you want.”
Voldemort chuckled. “I believe he can be persuaded.”
He flashed an evil grin. “And if not him, well, there’s always my great grandchild.”
Krista gasped, laying a protective arm across her abdomen. “You can go to hell,” she hissed. “You’re never getting my baby.”
Voldemort laughed. “We’ll see, my dear.”
“I’ll do everything in my power to see that you don’t touch this child,” she said, glaring at him.
“Very brave words for a Muggle,” Voldemort responded.
“Try to mess with my husband or my baby and you’ll get a first hand look at just how brave I can be,” Krista snapped.
Voldemort folded his hands in front of his face. “We shall see very soon.”
******
Eric sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. It had been hours since Draco had made up a sleeping draught and given it to both him and Harry, but he felt as if he’d barely slept at all. He was restless, eager to be on his way to rescue his wife.
He paced the length of the staff room, where he’d been taken to get some rest. He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Fyril,” he heard a voice call from the doorway. He looked up to see Dumbledore watching him.
“What?” he said. “Come to tell me I’m not ready?”
“Actually, quite the opposite,” Dumbledore replied. “Did you manage to get some sleep?”
Eric shrugged. “A little,” he admitted. “I’ll sleep better once I know Krista’s safe.”
Dumbledore nodded. “I wish you and Harry great success.”
“Thanks,” Eric said. “Is he awake?”
“Yes,” Dumbledore responded. “He’s waiting for you in my office.”
“Finally,” Eric mumbled under his breath. “We can get this show on the road.”
******
“This is the Duplicating potion,” Draco told Harry and Eric, holding up two small bottles filled with emerald green liquid. “You might want to wait until we get there to drink it. Less confusion during transportation.”
“Good idea,” Harry said, pocketing his bottle.
“Now, who all is going on this little mission?” Sirius asked from his vantage point behind the couch on which Isabene and Mackenzie sat side by side. Snape paced in front of the couch, his chin cupped in one hand.
“Eric and I, obviously,” Harry responded. “Draco’s coming too. He’s going to get us into Malfoy Mansion.”
Sirius frowned. “And that’s it?”
“Well, I didn’t think a lot of people needed to come along,” Harry said.
“Ron and I are remaining here, in case they need help,” Hermione responded.
“Someone else should go along,” Sirius pointed out. “If only to provide extra backup in case something happens.”
“I’ll go,” Snape said.
“No, you have classes to teach,” Dumbledore responded.
“I can arrange for a substitute,” Snape protested.
“I’ll go,” Sirius said. “I have nothing to do.”
Snape glared at him. “No thank you, Black. I can handle it.”
“Dumbledore just told you that you’ve got classes, Severus,” Sirius replied. “I will go.”
Isabene raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you boys just have a duel and see who wins.”
“Isabene, don’t give them ideas!” Mackenzie hissed.
Her friend shrugged. “At least they could settle this the manly way.”
“Well, it has been a while since my last duel,” Sirius said cheerfully. “My wand’s in need of the exercise.”
“Sirius Black, I forbid you from dueling with my husband!” Mackenzie cried. “And you, Severus Snape, most certainly will not duel with him!”
Sirius blinked. “I wasn’t aware you two had remarried,” he said, glancing from Snape to Mackenzie.
Mackenzie blushed. “Oh shut up!”
“I believe Sirius has a good idea,” Dumbledore said. “It might be good to have someone extra along.”
Snape gritted his teeth together as Sirius flashed a smug grin. “Thank you, Dumbledore.”
“We’ll leave whenever you’re ready,” Sirius told his three companions.
“We’re ready now,” Eric said, trying not to look anxious.
“Harry? Draco?” Sirius glanced at them expectantly.
Harry nodded. “I’m ready.”
Draco licked his lips. “As I’ll ever be.”
“Good,” Eric said, starting toward the door.
Isabene and Mackenzie rose from their seats. Isabene crossed over to Sirius, who had started to follow Eric.
“Be careful, will you?” she said softly.
He smiled, pulling her into his arms and tenderly kissing her. “Don’t worry, spitfire. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m serious, Sirius,” she said. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Shh,” he responded, placing his finger to her lips. “Narcissa won’t take any cheap shots. I promise, if I see her, I’ll duck.”
“That’s not funny, Siri,” she said, her face clouding over.
“C’mon, spitfire,” he replied, curling his finger under her chin and tilting her face up so that she was looking at him. “I’ll be fine.”
She nodded. “I love you.”
He grinned, placing one last kiss on her lips. “I know.”
“We’ll use a portkey to get there,” Harry was telling Eric as Sirius joined them outside Dumbledore’s office.
“I’ve made one,” Draco said, holding up a book. “It’ll take us right to the front of the mansion, inside the gate.”
“Excellent,” Sirius responded. “Shall we do this then?”
“Just put your hand on the book,” Harry told Eric.
“Okay,” Eric responded.
Placing his hand upon the book, he almost immediately felt a jerk somewhere around his navel. Then it seemed as though he were being sucked down into the book.
He reappeared outside a massive house, just inside the brass gates. He looked around in startlement, then noticed Harry and Draco standing a few feet away from him.
“Whoa,” he said. “Where are we?”
Draco made a face. “Welcome to Malfoy Mansion,” he said.
“Where’s Sirius?” Harry asked, looking around.
“Here,” Sirius said, emerging from behind a shrub. He brushed leaves off his tunic and out of his hair. “Good work, Malfoy.”
“Thanks,” Draco said. He withdrew his wand from the waistband of his pants. “C’mon. There are spells we have to get past that safeguard the house.”
“Lead the way, Draco,” Harry said.
Draco nodded, holding his wand ready as he led the group up the driveway to the front of Malfoy Mansion. He disabled the first ward, a shielding spell. Eric started toward the steps, but Draco threw up an arm, holding him back.
“Wait,” he ordered. “I haven’t disabled all the wards. If you take another step forward before I get them all disabled. . .”
“What, I’ll get fried?” Eric said, rolling his eyes.
“On top of being splinched,” Draco replied matter-of-factly.
“Splinched?” Eric repeated.
Harry grimaced. “Body parts all over the place.”
“Not a pretty sight,” Sirius agreed.
Eric looked disgusted. “I’ll take your word for it,” he said as he stepped back.
Once Draco had disabled all the wards, he cautiously started up the steps. “All right,” he said. “It’s safe. Let’s go.”
Harry and Eric were right behind Draco in climbing the marble steps leading to the front door, but as Sirius placed a foot on the bottom step, he suddenly cried out in pain.
Harry whirled in horror, just in time to see blue energy snaking up Sirius’ leg. “Sirius!” he cried as his godfather was propelled back, landing on the driveway flat on his back.
“What happened?” Eric demanded, glaring at Draco. “I thought you said you disabled all the wards!”
“I did!” Draco cried, looking aghast. “I-I don’t know what happened!”
“Sirius!” Harry cried, kneeling beside his godfather’s limp form.
“I’m all right, Harry,” Sirius said groggily. “What a jolt.”
“What was that?” Harry said as he helped Sirius sit up.
“I-I don’t know,” Draco responded. “Unless. . .”
“What?” Eric snapped.
“Well, think about it,” Draco said. “This is the home of a Death Eater. He’s probably got some kind of ward up that prevents people who are against You-Know-Who from entering the house.”
“That makes no sense,” Eric argued. “We’re against Voldemort and it let us through.”
“Yeah, but Voldemort wants us to come to him,” Harry pointed out. “And Draco is Malfoy’s son.”
“No, he disowned me, remember?” Draco said, his face hardening into a stony expression.
“But apparently the house hasn’t disowned you,” Sirius said, wincing as he rose to his feet. “You’ve still got Malfoy blood and the house still recognizes you. Me, on the other hand, I’m one of Voldemort and Malfoy’s biggest enemies. Of course they’d want me to keep me out.”
“The house accepts a Malfoy, regardless of their status--political, sexual or otherwise,” Harry said thoughtfully.
“I’ll stay out here,” Sirius said. “Guard the front. You boys go in and do what you have to.”
“Wait until we get into the house, into the study before you drink the potion,” Draco told Harry and Eric.
“Be careful,” Sirius told them.
Harry nodded as Eric continued up the steps. “You too, Sirius.”
“Here,” Draco said, tossing Sirius their portkey. “Hold onto that until we get back.”
******
Draco cautiously pulled open the front door, poking his head inside. Seeing nothing, he motioned to Eric and Harry and then quietly slipped into the house. Harry, being the last one in, pushed the door closed with a quiet click.
Eric raised his eyebrows, glancing around. He let out a low whistle. “Not bad,” he muttered. “Being the right hand man to the most evil wizard must pay well.”
Draco shot him a look. “Not funny,” he hissed. “C’mon. The study’s this way.”
Eric closed his eyes for a moment, reaching into his pocket to brush his fingers against Krista’s necklace. Don’t worry, baby. We’re on our way.
Draco led the way through the corridors, toward the back of the house. He paused outside a door, holding up his hand. Behind him, Eric and Harry came to a halt.
“What is it?” Harry whispered.
“I heard something,” Draco whispered back. He held a finger to his lips, listening.
Harry frowned, listening as well. Suddenly his eyes widened as he heard the click of high-heeled shoes on the polished marble floor.
“Somebody’s coming!” Draco hissed, pulling open the door behind him. “Quick, get in here! The study’s down the hall, around the corner. The second door on the right.”
“What about you?” Harry murmured as Eric stepped through the door into the darkened room.
“I’ll be fine,” Draco responded. “Just get in there.”
“Draco, don’t do anything stupid,” Harry warned. “I mean-”
Draco silenced him with a quick kiss pressed to his lips. He then shoved Harry into the darkened room. “Remember. Around the corner, second door on the right.”
“Draco!” Harry hissed, only to have Draco slam the door shut in his face.
Draco took a deep breath, preparing himself for whoever was coming around the corner. He couldn’t kid himself. . .he knew exactly who was coming. There was only one person in the Malfoy household that wore high-heeled shoes. . .
“Mother,” he said as Narcissa Malfoy rounded the corner.
Her eyes narrowed. “So, Lucius was right. The prodigal son has returned,” she said in a cold voice.
“Nice to see you too, Mum,” he snapped, glaring at her.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “Where is Potter?”
“You’re too late, Mother,” Draco said, grinning. “Even now he’s on his way down to the underground chamber.”
He smirked as Narcissa’s eyes widened. “Oh, you and Dad didn’t think I knew about that, did you?” he said. “Ah, the power of eavesdropping.”
Narcissa’s mouth curled into a sneer. “It’s a pity you chose to give your allegiance to that pathetic Potter boy. You would’ve made such a good Death Eater.”
“No thank you,” Draco said. “I’d rather take my chances in hell than work for Voldemort.”
Narcissa snarled. “You just might get your wish,” she hissed. She raised her wand. “Crucio!”
Draco ducked the red beam that flew from the tip of her wand. “Nice, Mother,” he spat, raising his own wand. “Expelliarmus!”
Narcissa cried out in rage as her wand flew from her hand. Draco deftly caught it, then pointed his wand at his mother again. Thin cords suddenly flew from the tip, wrapping themselves around her arms, legs and mouth.
“Sorry, Mother,” he said quietly. “You gave me no choice.”
He opened the door through which Harry and Eric were hidden. As they left the room, Draco pointed his wand at his mother yet again, saying, “Mobulicorpus!”
Her body began to float in midair and he directed her into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Nice job, Draco,” Eric said.
Harry placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.
Draco nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. “C’mon, the study’s this way.”
He led them to the study, pausing outside the door. Placing his ear against the door, he listened for a few moments. Then he nodded. “It’s empty,” he said, placing his hand on the knob and turning.
“Let me go in first,” Harry ordered, holding his wand ready.
Draco nodded, then threw the door open. Harry entered, ready to cast a disarming spell. He relaxed as he saw the room was empty, though a fire flickered in the hearth behind Malfoy’s desk.
“I take it this is the painting?” Eric said, nodding at the painting that hung on the wall across from the desk.
It showed the corridor of snake statues he remembered from his dream, a high-backed chair set up at the end. Upon closer inspection, Eric noticed a figure seated in the chair, a second figure standing beside the chair.
He stepped over to the painting, narrowing his eyes. Suddenly he cursed.
“What is it?” Harry asked.
“Malfoy and Voldemort,” Eric said, gesturing to the painting. “I don’t know how, but they’re in the painting.”
“Think of it as what you Muggles call a security camera,” Draco explained. “It shows everyone that’s in the room at any given time.”
Eric’s frown deepened as he looked at the painting again. There seemed to be a third figure standing in front of Voldemort’s chair. “Krista,” he realized just as the figure that represented Malfoy grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away.
“No! Krista!” Eric cried, distraught as he clawed at the frame of the painting, trying to figure out a way to get to her.
“If only we knew the password. . .” Harry muttered, rubbing his chin. He glanced at Draco hopefully.
Draco sadly shook his head. “Sorry. I haven’t heard Dad use it.”
“Damn,” Harry said.
“Well, how hard can it be to think of the password?” Eric snapped. “Uh. . .it would probably be something related to Malfoy or Voldemort.”
“Death Eater,” Harry said, looking expectantly at the painting.
Draco frowned as the painting refused to open. “That isn’t it,” he said. “Um. . .Narcissa?”
“Malfoy,” Harry tried.
“Voldemort,” Eric said.
The painting didn’t budge.
Draco scratched behind his left ear. “Tom Riddle.”
“Mackenzie,” Harry suggested.
“Fyril,” Eric said, glaring at the painting.
Harry frowned as the painting still refused to open.
“Morsmordre,” Harry said.
“Pureblood?” Eric said, beginning to feel very aggravated.
“Noble Slytherin,” Draco said, sure he had the right password.
“Gah!” Eric cried as the painting remained closed. “We could be here all night!”
“I’m sorry,” Draco said, looking dejected. “I should’ve tried to get the password before I brought us here.”
“Damn it!” Harry said, pacing in front of the painting and rubbing his scar. “Even Dumbledore doesn’t think up passwords so difficult!”
Draco and Eric watched in astonishment as the painting slowly swung open.
“Harry, you did it!” Draco said.
Harry blinked, seeing the painting open. “Dumbledore?” he said. “Dumbledore was the password?”
“I think now is the time to drink the potion,” Draco suggested. “Then, nuHarry, nuEric and I will go meet Voldemort and Father. I’ll keep ‘em distracted so you guys can go find Krista.”
“Just be careful, huh?” Harry said. “It isn’t as easy to confront Voldemort as you think.”
Draco smiled. “I’ll be fine, Harry. You’ll be with me, remember?”
“Right,” Harry said, drawing his bottle of potion from his pocket.
Eric did the same, uncapping it. They exchanged glances and then raised the bottles to their lips, tossing them back simultaneously.
Draco watched, holding his breath, as both men guzzled the potion. Eric made a horrid face while Harry shuddered in revulsion.
“Ugh! Couldn’t you have made it taste a little less like pond scum?” Harry said.
“Sorry,” Draco replied. “I’ll remember to add a little mint flavoring next time.”
He watched, fascinated, as Harry and Eric began to glow.
“Whoa,” Eric said, looking down at his hands. “What’s happening?”
“I think the potion’s working,” Harry responded. Suddenly he felt a sharp stab of pain in his midriff and doubled over, clutching his stomach.
“Harry!” Draco cried. Then his eyes widened as a spectral form began to emerge from Harry’s back. The ghostly thing looked exactly like Harry.
First, just it’s head rose from Harry’s back, then it was followed by a torso, to which were attached arms. Slowly, bit by bit, more of the duplicate rose from Harry’s back until, at last, first one leg, then the other appeared. The ghostly being appeared to climb from Harry’s back, setting one foot down on the carpet.
As that one foot touched the carpet, a miraculous change overtook the spectral form. Starting from the foot and spreading upward, it became solid, a flesh and blood duplicate of Harry.
“Harry?” Draco asked nervously as his lover slowly straightened, gasping for breath.
“Wow,” Harry panted, staring at his clone.
“You. . .didn’t say. . .it would hurt so much,” Eric groaned, carefully straightening out of his own hunched over stature.
“It worked,” Draco said, glancing from Eric’s clone to Eric and back.
“Of course,” Harry’s clone said.
“Let me guess, you doubted it would,” Eric’s clone growled, narrowing his eyes at Draco.
“So, shall we get this over with?” Draco said, swallowing.
“Right,” Harry’s clone said. “Let’s go.”
Harry and Eric hung back, watching their clones and Draco enter the painting. The painting swung closed, giving the two a view of Draco and their duplicates making their way down the statue-lined corridor.
“How are we supposed to get in there without them seeing us?” Eric grumbled.
Harry grinned, drawing something from his pocket and shaking it out.
Eric frowned. It appeared to be a silvery cloak of some kind. “What’s that?”
“An Invisibility Cloak,” Harry replied. “It once belonged to my father. It’s helped me, Ron and Hermione out a lot.” He smiled fondly at the cloak.
“An Invisibility Cloak?” Eric repeated.
“Makes the wearer invisible,” Harry said. He draped the cloak around him in demonstration.
Eric blinked as Harry disappeared from view. “Whoa.”
He jumped, startled, as Harry’s head suddenly appeared floating in midair. “Pretty cool, huh?” Harry said.
“Pretty freaky,” Eric said, eying Harry’s disembodied head.
“C’mon,” Harry said, having cast a glance back at the painting. “I think it’s our cue.”
He quickly draped the cloak over both of them, calling out, “Dumbledore.”
As the painting opened, both entered. The painting quietly swung shut behind them.