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Chapter 40: Machinations

"I want to make this very clear to all of you so that there is no confusion later—Professor Dumbledore has granted me special permission for this and if he sees fit he can take it back just the same...This is not a ploy to skip any other classes; training will take place outside of lesson hours. And, of course, there is an age restriction set for 15 and over, so you lot will likely be paired with fifth and seventh years, depending on who signs up."

The students sat eagerly in their seats and listened carefully to every word Claybrook laid on them. There had been rumours over the last couple of days about something called a Dueling Club, but no one had thought anything of it, given the state of things in the country. News reports of war happenings were getting more frequent by the hour, it seemed—no one thought any teacher would bother with something like this, if it was likely the school would close on them.

"Professor Dumbledore knows what is best for us all," Remus announced fervently as they left the Dark Arts classroom. "I seriously doubt that sending us all home will make any impact on these disappearances."

"It might just do the opposite," James stated.

The boys fell silent.

It seemed that all anybody could talk about on the way to the Great Hall was Claybrook's new Dueling Club, which would begin the following week. Students were ranting away about what kinds of illegal spells and defenses they thought Claybrook would teach them, and which teachers would participate in this club as well. The only person who seemed less than enthused was Remus. He wore a scowl the entire lunch hour and hid behind the Daily Prophet for a good duration of the meal.

"We're all signing up," Sirius declared near the end. "It's out of the question, Remus."

"But the war is not happening at Hogwarts!" exclaimed Peter. "What good will it do?"

"There is no harm in taking benefit from all the training we can get," said James, more quietly. "I don't believe the war will reach us, but if it does, we want to be ready. Claybrook is armed with all sorts of training tactics that we could get a lot of use out of."

"It's not like any of us are a match for the death eaters."

The words escaped Draco before he could stop himself. He closed his eyes and cursed silently at himself.

"Maybe not..." said Sirius slowly, causing Draco to look at him. "But if I'm gonna go, I'd like to go fightin', not runnin'."

"I'm with him," said James, though he gave Draco an odd look.

Remus and Peter seemed to be immune to this conversation, with Remus still raging about Claybrook (and everything that he disagreed with) and Peter nodding along with every word he said. Draco's eyes met Peter's for a split second and he gave him a warm smile. It had been difficult to convince Peter that not being able to see Draco's animagus was not the end of the world. He had such low self-esteem and Draco was well aware of that. Ever since the moon, he had made it his mission to give Peter as much attention and consideration as possible, even in the stupidest conversations over the stupidest things. He had to know that he was a part of the group and not an outsider. The boys couldn't know this yet, but Draco knew exactly why this was of the utmost importance.

At the sound of the bell, the boys grabbed their book things (and last-minute muffins from the basket on the table), and bid farewell to Draco, heading to their next classes. Draco pondered over his thoughts for a little longer, watching the Great Hall grow emptier as students hurried off to their lessons. Outside, snow was falling quite heavily for February, piling up on the windowsills and destroying any thought Draco might've had of going for a stroll among the castle grounds for his free period.

So instead he opted for a quiet study session in the library, where he almost immediately abandoned his schoolbooks and instead occupied himself with writing to Tom Riddle. It wasn't long before he became oblivious to all his surroundings—the occasional student lurking in between bookshelves, Madame Pince's reorganizing of books, or the stormy wind pounding on the arch-shaped glass windows. All that mattered were the words seeping into the diary in black ink and vanishing into a possibly alternate cosmic universe where Tom Riddle sat in the very seat Draco occupied and wrote back in his neat, slanted handwriting.

I would have marvelled at the opportunity to join a dueling club when I was at Hogwarts, he wrote.

Yeah well I also get special lessons from Dumbledore so I don't see what Claybrook will be able to teach me that I don't already know, Draco responded.

It was a while before Tom responded, though when he did, his handwriting looked to be a tad messier, as though he'd been hurrying to get the words out before they could escape his mind.

It is rare for you to volunteer information about Dumbledore nowadays. May I ask why that is?

Draco thought for a minute. He honestly didn't have an answer to that question. Why couldn't he tell the diary version of Voldemort about Dumbledore? It wasn't like it could do anything to hurt him. On the contrary, it would probably be useful—Draco would see how the young Voldemort reacts to Dumbledore-related things, which could, in turn, help them plan out strategies for the day when Voldemort would come to face Dumbledore again.

What do you want to know? Draco wrote instead.

By the end of the day, Draco felt more tired than usual, and the knowledge that the weekend was finally upon them didn't seem to do him any better. The Gryffindor common room was raging with talk about Claybrook's Dueling Club, and word had it that a good ninety percent of fifth, sixth and seventh years in Gryffindor House had already signed up.

"I put all our names down," Sirius notified the boys absentmindedly, as he shuffled a deck of cards on the carpet by the fire.

James was sitting cross-legged near him, staring into the fire with something deep on his mind.

"What did you do that for?" Remus nagged on Sirius. "I already told you—"

"—and I thoroughly ignored what you told me," Sirius declared. "We are all doing this together."

"It might be fun, Moony," Peter chimed in.

But Remus looked displeased.

Draco folded down the corner of the page he'd been reading and closed Advanced Potion Making, tucking it beneath the throw pillow by his side. He had been skimming over Severus' special copy. He stared ahead now, watching James and Sirius play cards on the carpet, beside them, Remus flipping through books by the firelight. It had only been just over a week since the five of them had attended their first moon with Draco in his animagus form. He missed that. It had been probably the most fun he'd had in this timeline so far…that is, if he wasn't counting the night before the holidays. Draco's eyes fell on James now, guilt creeping up to the surface of his thoughts.

Maybe Tom Riddle was right. Draco was far above all of this Hogwarts nonsense and needed to save his knowledge and power for better use. He had something that none of these boys had and probably never would. He couldn't waste his time sitting around in the Gryffindor common room night after night. He had to get to work.

Tears streamed down Draco's cheeks, rapidly soaking his sweater as he tried to wipe them away with his sleeve. He was on his knees now in a puddle of water at the center of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. She was sitting atop one of the stalls, crying silently as she watched him sob, Tom Riddle's diary sprawled open on the ground, drenched in sink water.

After several moments, Draco summoned the strength to pick up the quill he'd dropped. He crawled over to where the diary lay open and hesitated before writing, I thought I could trust you.

And trust, you can, it responded almost instantly. You must understand why I kept this a secret from you. I didn't know you at all. And like you say, that trust had to be established between us, before I could be completely honest with you. Honesty is a two-way street.

Draco coughed in between cries, his heartbeat drumming in his ears now, drowning out the noise of the tap water filling up the bathroom from all corners.

You have to know that it wasn't safe for me to tell you. Not until I knew for sure.

Draco picked up the quill angrily. What else have you lied to me about, Tom Riddle?

Nothing more, I assure you. Please don't be angry with me, Draco. It was just a precaution. I was going to tell you. I swear it. I just wanted to wait for the right time. I didn't want to frighten you. I didn't want you to throw me away.

Draco let out a laugh. You mean after finding out that instead of talking to a diary in which Voldemort once used to write, I've been talking to Voldemort himself?

No Draco, you haven't been talking to Voldemort. You have been talking to Tom Riddle, before he ever became Voldemort. I am not much different from you.

"LIES!" Draco screamed, picking up the diary and throwing it up against one of the closed stall doors.

Moaning Myrtle let out a small shout. She was still crying.

Draco buried his head in his arms and rocked himself back and forth. He did not have the faintest idea why this news was hitting him so hard. But the worst part was that he had no one—no one—he could tell any of this to. If Dumbledore could see him now…

"Don't cry," said Myrtle's voice softly in his ear.

Draco looked up at her, her cold presence making him shiver. She placed a silhouetted arm around him and leaned her head on his shoulder—a waste of an effort, for he did not feel a thing.

"Please don't cry," she whimpered. "It's going to be okay."

Draco continued to rock back and forth, water growing in puddles all around them as Moaning Myrtle repeated, over and over again, "It's all going to be okay..."

"Draco, can you hear me?"

Draco blinked twice. Peter was sitting with him on the couch now, looking more nervous than ever.

"Are you alright?" he asked, prompting Remus to look up from his book, while James and Sirius continued their card game without a care in the world.

"Yeah," Draco said slowly, remembering where he was now. "Sorry, I must've been daydreaming." He sat up on the couch. "What were you saying, Wormtail?"

"You promised to help me write my Transfiguration paper," Peter said, handing him a notebook.

"I did?" Draco said.

"Yeah, don't you remember?" said Peter.

"Are you sure you're not making it up now just to get me to agree?" said Draco, half-joking.

Sirius smirked.

"No, you really promised!" cried Peter. "It was yesterday at breakfast time in the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall brought me my last paper which got a bad grade and you volunteered to help me write this one. Then Remus gave you his scone...how can you not remember this?"

Draco shrugged carelessly and took the notebook from Peter, hoping that would shut him up. He picked up a quill and inkbottle and got to work straightaway, occasionally glancing at the boys going about their own things, worrying, hoping that none of them had picked up on what had just happened...

...because what Draco couldn't understand most of all was why he had absolutely no recollection of ever having gone to breakfast in the Great Hall yesterday. He couldn't remember waking up in the morning, dressing; he couldn't remember what he'd eaten, or McGonagall approaching the Gryffindor table to give Peter back his assignment.

With his mind still on the faint memory of Moaning Myrtle comforting him in her bathroom a few nights before, Draco buried himself in Peter's homework.

The weekend seemed to fly by and before they knew it, it was Monday morning once again. Mondays were probably Draco's easiest days because he hardly needed to try anymore in Slughorn's class. Astronomy was a joke of a discipline, and History of Magic was just time to kill. Draco and Sirius would mostly doodle in their notebooks the entire time.

By afternoon, after his free period with Severus, Draco had confirmation that most of Wilkes' former gang had signed up for Claybrook's Dueling Club, and that included Regulus. He told Sirius as much in the Gryffindor Common room after dinner, to which Sirius only responded, "Yeah". But Draco thought it would be neat to train together. After all, with Claybrook and presumably other teachers in the room, what could go wrong?

Spending the spare period with Severus had not been at all awkward, as Draco had thought. The last time he'd seen him, he had gone off on him about pursuing apparition on his own, unsupervised. And when Severus didn't agree, Draco had stormed off. But all was forgotten now, and they were able to get through the spare period without any problems. Admittedly though, Draco had thought Severus would question him about his sudden bursts of anger, but nothing was said of the topic.

As the days passed and the first Dueling Club meeting drew nearer, the excitement only strengthened, with it being the most popular topic on castle grounds. It seemed that all had been forgotten about the war and the various Daily Prophet articles about who else was missing.

"It's a distraction," Lily chimed in on Wednesday morning over breakfast. "And it gives people hope."

James choked on his orange juice and Sirius gave him two hard pats on the back.

"Hope?" inquired Remus.

But Lily looked at Draco as she answered. "If people are better trained, they will feel more confident, in case something bad were to happen."

"And confidence is key," said Sirius, smirking. James scowled at him.

A few minutes later, Lily and Remus sped off to Arithmancy. Draco then leaned forward.

"Confidence is key?" he repeated, arching an eyebrow.

James stubbed Sirius' toe, which earned him a loud "OW—fuck you!" and responded calmly to Draco, "Nothing important."

Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

"So I've been meaning to ask you," James began, in a tone that told Draco it was carefully orchestrated, "We never found out why you can see your animagus."

Sirius frowned, realizing this.

"Um," said Draco, at a loss for words.

"Who have you seen die?" said James out front. He spoke quietly, yes, but very boldly, as though there was nothing stopping him—nothing that could come between him and Draco's answer now.

"I..." said Draco, without a clue as to what to say next.

"Well?" said James, waiting.

Draco felt angry. James was never this forward with him, at least not in front of any of the others. What was he playing at?

"Oh Jamesy," said Sirius casually, "You don't think it'd be bloody pointless if Draco couldn't see his own transformation?"

"Well—"

"Those rules probably don't even apply," said Sirius. "He can see it because it is his. He shares a special connection with it, just as we all share special connections with ours."

That day, after Potions, Draco managed to locate Regulus in the library (he had been studying by himself in a corner table) and handed him back his copy of Magick Moste Evile, claiming to have forgotten all about it.

"I didn't even realize you still had this," Regulus said as Draco handed it to him. "Has it been at all helpful?"

Draco shrugged, taking the seat next to him. "I'm not sure that what I'm looking for will be found in many published books."

"Not even in the Restricted Section? How come?"

Draco bit down on his lip, wondering how much he should say.

"I think it's an old type of magic, that's why it's rare in literature."

That seemed to be enough for Regulus, for he flipped the page of his Potions book without another word.

"So listen," Draco said, clearing his throat. "I was wondering if maybe you know someone who can help me find more information on this...topic..."

"Like who?" said Regulus without looking at him.

"I don't know, someone your, um, our family has connections with...someone you know about..."

"Why not ask Andromeda? She's one of the smartest in our family."

Draco hesitated. "I'm not sure your parents would like it if I reached out to her and I really don't want to get on their bad side."

"You could always ask Sirius to ask her for you—"

"Sirius can't know anything about this!"

Regulus stared at Draco, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"You can't say a word," Draco continued. "Swear it, okay?"

"Y-yeah," said Regulus, "Sure, not a word."

Draco sighed, still waiting for Regulus to come up with another option for him. Though Andromeda made sense,

Regulus thought for a minute, then widened his eyes as the name popped up in his mind. He looked at Draco excitedly.

"Why not ask Arabella Fawley? You met her at the wedding, right?"

Draco frowned. This was true. Why hadn't he himself thought of her in the first place?

"You're a smart one, Reg," he said absentmindedly, sitting back in his seat casually.

Regulus smiled.

"So speaking of the wedding," Draco suddenly said, "Have you heard from your secret buddies?"

The smile vanished.

"I'm just assuming that you're in touch with them on a regular basis," Draco continued. He looked Regulus seriously in the eye. "Are you still talking to them?"

He could tell Regulus was very taken aback by his forwardness. As far as their conversations ever went, Draco tended to beat around the bush instead of just jumping to the topic on hand.

"So what if I am?" Regulus finally said. "It's not really your business anyway so why don't you just stop worrying about it?"

And with that, he buried himself in his book once again. But Draco wasn't finished. He leaned forward in his chair and tried to catch Regulus' eye.

"What are you doing?" he said in a lowered voice, so that anyone passing by wouldn't grasp the seriousness of their conversation and have a listen.

"Studying," Regulus said without looking at him.

"Cut the crap, Reg, you know what I mean." Regulus looked at him. "You know you're not being smart, running with an older crowd and a dark one at that. Do your parents know about this?"

"Who do you think introduced me to them?" Regulus snapped. Draco could tell he regretted doing so because he quickly added, "Look Draco just don't worry about it, okay? I'm not...in danger. It's nothing like that. I'm very well protected."

"Oh I don't worry about your protection one bit, I know you're protected," Draco said. "I'm more worried about what they'll soon ask you to do..."

Regulus frowned. "How could you possibly know any of that?"

Draco paused. "I'm just good with reading people and such..." Regulus continued to stare, so Draco added, very discreetly, "It might be something that Dumbledore's taught me. You know, like legilimancy type of magic." He looked around before adding again, "Look, if you need my help you know you can always come to me. Or Sirius."

"Right," laughed Regulus.

"Or me," Draco repeated. "I can help you. I...I have resources."

"What resources? Look, it doesn't even matter because it's nothing like that so I don't need your help."

Draco watched him for a long time after that, though they didn't talk. Regulus finished a chapter for his homework and then went on to take notes for a different class, all while Draco watched him.

"So about this Dueling Club," Regulus finally said, as the library grew slightly emptier, with students heading off to their respective common rooms for the evening.

"What about it?"

"Did you sign up?"

"Of course I did."

Regulus smirked. "I heard that almost all of the Gryffindor fifth, sixth and seventh years signed up. And we've had quite a few sign-ups in Slytherin as well, and that's just two houses. He's opened it up to all the houses. I wonder how Claybrook will handle that many students. Maybe he should've put a restriction or hosted interviews or something, to limit the club to only the most promising ones."

"Yeah maybe..."

Regulus paused for a moment. "You know...Barty is also signed up."

"Who?" said Draco.

"Crouch Junior...you've met him...his father is Barty Crouch, from the Ministry of—"

"Yeah, yeah I get it, and?"

"Well he's joining the club too and—"

"And why do I care about that exactly?"

There was a pause.

"I mean, no offense," Draco added momentarily, "But he's no one to me."

"He's my best friend," Regulus said quietly.

"Exactly, your best friend, not mine. To me, he's not even a friend. He just...exists."

"Well that's a bit harsh, but—"

"Why should I care if he's in this club?"

"If you would just let me finish—"

"I mean of all the people in your life, that's the person you think I want to know about?"

"DRACO," said Regulus, annoyed now. "CAN I FINISH A SENTENCE?"

Draco simply shrugged.

"I was hoping you'd take this opportunity to get to know him..."

"Not a chance," said Draco instantly, shaking his head. "Come on Reg, the kid reeks of trouble and nothing but trouble. Why would I want to be around that?"

"You know, there are a lot of people that think you reek of trouble, just so you know!"

Draco stared at him. "What people? Like who?"

"Just people from Slytherin, and a couple of others too."

"I've never heard that..."

"Yeah well, it's out there, so if you could just stop judging like a typical Gryffindor—"

"Hey, I'm not—"

"—and just give him a bloody chance, you might feel differently!"

Draco was mighty relieved that Regulus had interrupted because he had been about to blurt out that he wasn't a Gryffindor, when he remembered that he technically was.

"I'm just sayin' that it would mean a lot to me," Regulus added quietly. "I mean, if you really want to be a good friend to me then you'll make an effort to get to know Junior. He...he doesn't have it easy, you know, with his dad and all. They really don't get along. And besides, he's really great once you get to know him and he even told me himself that he'd like knowing you. And you've already made friends with Severus so what's the big deal?"

"That's different," said Draco. "It's not about the Slytherin part. That doesn't bother me or else I wouldn't talk to you or Sev."

"Then what's the problem?"

Draco sighed. "I don't completely trust him."

"Well that won't change if you don't get to know him." Draco looked at Regulus, who was watching him now.

"Please try," Regulus said.

"Fine," Draco said. "I'm not promising anything, but we'll just see how the Dueling Club goes on Friday."

"And...?"

"And we will just go from there, I suppose."

That was enough satisfaction for Regulus. He closed up his books, bid farewell to Draco, and went off to his common room, agreeing to meet up with him in a few days for Claybrook's much-anticipated Dueling Club. Draco didn't know what to expect for it anymore, but he had a feeling it was going to be a bigger part of his life than he currently knew.

Checking again to make sure no one he knew was around, he pulled out Tom Riddle's diary from his book bag and dipped his quill in ink.

Tom, what can you tell me about any wizard by the name Crouch?