bigkanimaoncampus | Keep your silver, give me that gold

Keep your silver, give me that gold

This was NOT how Jackson wanted to be spending his afternoon. He wanted to run drills on his own before practice started, and he still had homework to fit in somewhere in there. Dark Arts was one of the classes he paid the least attention in, because why did it matter any more? He knew first hand that curses were a joke. You go to a shady guy in an alley on summer break, and he claims to have worked some nasty curse that could make you stronger and...nothing happens. Absolutely nothing. Not a rash, not a bad dream, nothing.

Now that they were getting well into the school year, the holidays approaching, there were whispers among the students. There was a "monster" in the halls. Talk of a snake or a lizard spotted at night through the corridors. But so far there were no confirmed reports. One kid claimed to have been paralyzed and unable to move for several hours, but he had nothing but a scrape on the back of his neck. This was chalked up to childish pranks and stories held from over a decade ago when kids were found petrified in the halls. So far it was little more than a ghost story. Less that that, as not even the ghosts themselves seemed to have seen the supposed monster.

The "failed" curse was not Jackson's first brush with magic that he shouldn't be messing around with. He'd been sick for more than a month the year before because of a potion gone wrong that left him with nasty aconite poisoning and he refused to talk to anyone about it until it was almost too late. And now he was flaunting his disrespect for the dark arts, showing off spells that students really shouldn't be working. It was all wrapped up in an air of showing he wasn't afraid of the magic that supposedly nearly destroyed their world. He didn't just toss these spells around, but threatened to use them on his fellow classmates. His favorite target seemed to be a pair who hadn't seemed like they'd amount to much, but as they grew were getting to be rather proficient. Scott was was the one with true magical power, while his friend was the one who always seemed to know every scrap of lore there was to be known.

Then there was his disrespect of their teacher. Draco Malfoy. Now there was a name he'd heard often enough when he first came to the school. He didn't grown up with wizard parents, so he didn't have the same associations with the name that others might, but he was a quick study. The way people spoke of the Malfoy family was that they were some evil, dark, impressive force. Like dark kings of the wizarding world. Too bad most of what he'd heard was of Draco's father, so finally getting into the guy's class was frankly a disappointment. He was expecting someone with an iron fist, someone who was far more into the dark arts part and less about the defense.

That day, Jackson had been asking a few questions that students had no reason to be asking. Like just how a wizard could go about getting stronger. He'd actually started to say. "You know, as strong as V--" when his friend Danny elbowed him so hard in the ribs he stopped talking.

So now Jackson sat at his desk, having not moved after the class emptied out, showing every ounce of disdain possible. Arms folded, knees splayed, partially slouched in his chair. Defensive, offended, knowing he was better than being held after class. He stared at the teacher, challenging him to do something, anything. He was someone accustomed to getting away with his attitude because he was always the teacher's favorite. So this was just a formality.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

In that moment Draco stepped forward, all Jackson could think of was what lurked beneath the teacher's sleeve. In the classroom was one thing, there'd been a strange sort of safety there. An illusion of it, perhaps, but it was still there. Here in the bathroom, so close, the terror was far more present and real. This close, he wouldn't have a chance to do anything. He'd be dead before-- but then Draco stopped. He wasn't going for his wand or moving to attack. Jackson's heart didn't calm down but he could at least look calmer.

How had Draco seen it? He'd been busy in the classroom. It was gone. How could he know?! That's when Jackson caught a glimpse of his own reflection, the streak creeping toward his neck. He frantically wiped at it with his sleeve. "It's...it's nothing. Just left over. From the aconite. That's all." Poisoning he'd had almost a year ago, but he hoped Draco didn't know that. "I'm fine!" he insisted.

"Aconite?" That didn't sound familiar. What had happened, what aconite? "...that was last year, wasn't it?" He really couldn't quite remember, but he knew Jackson had had a run-in with aconite poisoning at some point, not too recently. He shook his head a bit, dismissing that train of thought, because regardless of when it had happened, aconite wouldn't produce something like that.

"It's not, and you're not. That's a curse remnant. And it will be easier to deal with if you tell me where you picked it up." Now he did start forward again, slowly, one step at a time.

"I...I don't know what you're talking about..." For each step forward Draco took, Jackson took one back. Scrambling for an excuse. He wanted to run for the door, but feared he'd trip over his own feet if he tried. He barely managed the slow steps, feeling as though on the next step, the tile might vanish beneath his feet.

"It's probably from your stupid class!" He snapped, but lacking the conviction. "That's where it started, isn't it? I'll...I'll go have it looked at! Just--JUST STAY BACK!" He spat it out the moment his back hit the wall. He yanked his wand out, pointed at Draco's chest. But it accentuated the tremor of fear in his hand. He gripped it tighter, trying to not look like he feared for his life.

Draco stopped immediately, raising his hands, eyes moving from the wavering wand tip to Jackson's face and back. "All right, all right. I'm stopped. ...Jackson. Whatever you're thinking about doing," he said softly, doing his best to ignore the way his heart had picked up and was racing like he'd just sprinted the length of the castle. "Don't."

If anyone else came in and witnessed this, a student with his wand pulled on a teacher, he'd be in immense trouble, and not the type he could roll his eyes about and add to his devil-may-care resume. "Put it down," he whispered. "I won't make you let me help you, but you need to lower your wand, Jackson."

His fingers tightened around the wand, frozen for a moment. He hadn't thought about what he would do with it, his mind blanking on any possible spell he could use in that moment. What would he even do against someone like Draco? Was there even anything that would work? Why was HE acting so scared?

"Or what?!" His voice didn't quite crack, but there was no masking the frantic quality of it. No hiding that his usual flippant arrogance had abandoned him and there would be no reclaiming it. He pressed his head back against the wall, as if hoping he could back away further. But still he didn't lower his wand.

Draco took a moment or two to at least try and harness his rampaging thoughts. It had been a long time, over a decade, since he'd last been at the other end of someone's wand, and that had been someone much more advanced than a fifth-year student, but it never got easier. The uncertainty never got easier.

"Jackson. Listen. I need you to hear what I'm telling you," he said, trying not to let his eyes move from that terrified face, trying to ignore the prickle of sweat between his shoulder blades, at his temples. "You've drawn your wand. On a teacher. But no one needs to know about this. If you put it down now."

The reality of what he was doing started to trickle through the panic. It wasn't just a tool, it could be considered a weapon. He tried to focus on the terrible things that could happen from that: kicked off the team, expelled, reputation ruined. But it was the thought of the terrible things Draco could do if he didn't. Specifically involving the word unforgivable.

Finally, as if a string had been cut, his arm fell to his side. But he didn't move otherwise. In fact, he seemed to press himself tighter against the wall, bracing for the worst. He looked like he was going to be sick, or that he might pass out. There were too many things to be afraid of, and he could no longer tell which ones were real and which ones were just in his head.

As the wand tip swung down and away from him, Draco heard a gasp, and it took a moment to realize it had come from him. He resisted the urge to swipe an arm across his forehead, keeping his hands where they were. "Breathe, Jackson. I'm not here to hurt you, I wouldn't do that. Come on, let me see that you know that."

But Jackson didn't know that. Draco was supposed to be terrible. That's what he'd prepared for, what everyone was waiting for. Wasn't that why he showed off what was on his arm? As a threat? Something to keep his wayward student from asking too many questions. At least, that's what Jackson had convinced himself of after the fact.

He just shook his head, unable to find his voice. His teeth clenched visibly, trying to ground himself. He wanted to do snap at Draco, prove he wasn't scared. But he couldn't summon his customary anger, false or otherwise, to hide behind.

Well, this wasn't anything like what he'd expected. He'd suspected that Jackson's bravado was a front for something else, but he hadn't expected this level of crippling fear. He wasn't even certain what to do with it, given that he was one of the reasons for it. He didn't show off the Mark very often, certainly, but it was no secret. Right? And no one really discussed Voldemort often, but the name was far from forbidden.

And yet, here they were. "All right," he said slowly, taking a step back. "Why don't you tell me instead what you think might happen? What are you guarding yourself from?" Because even people who weren't afraid at all could guard themselves against something. It didn't mean Jackson was afraid. He was just being cautious.

This wasn't going at all in a way that Jackson had expected. Draco wasn't even angry, he seemed almost confused. Where was the looming monster people whispered about? The unholy terror bearing the name Malfoy? No students left had seen first hand what Draco had been like as a student, but rumors passed from older to younger siblings, and then to younger friends, filtering through the classes. Especially now that the monster was haunting the halls, students were convinced it was Draco's revenge finally come to pass.

"You're..." He had to swallow before he could continue. "You're going to...kill me..." He had to force it out through his teeth. There was a strangled sob in there, trying so hard to sound like he could face this, but everything was crumbling, even his conviction that Draco was to be feared. And without that, what did he have?

That didn't leave much to the imagination, but it also raised more questions than it answered. There were several ways he could proceed from here, in fact it might be merciful in a way simply to walk out again, perhaps quietly charming the door to prevent anyone else from walking in until Jackson walked out again or let someone in, but...no. What kind of teacher would he be, he couldn't leave him like this. His student was shattered.

Draco considered his options. He could mention that he'd need to draw a wand to do that. Or make a joke out of it, a No one told me that lighthearted thing, but in the end, he opted for a simple, "Why?"

The question stumped Jackson. Wasn't it obvious? He should know already. How could he not? It would be like if Potter himself walked through the halls expecting the students here to not know who he was or what he'd done. Or was Draco asking for a more specific reason? Did he want Jackson to detail his own grievances that would bring that about?

"Your arm!" Jackson said, with a bit more force than he'd intended. At least he'd found something of a spine again, pushing himself up straight. "You don't go flashing something like that around to a student unless it's a threat!" He was sliding back into anger. He felt comfortable there.

"Oh, bloody...hell," Draco sighed, pushing his fingers through his hair and closing his eyes. It had been a risk, but he hadn't thought he'd miscalculated this much. "It wasn't...I didn't mean it as a threat. I thought you'd be curious."

He glanced at his left arm, securely covered in fabric, and shook his head. "You're not the first student I've had who's a bit too concerned about being powerful. I thought you'd...well. Clearly I was wrong, and I'm sorry for that." Now that the immediate danger was over, Draco's eyes went to the smear of blackness again, and he added more softly, "But I am concerned for you. Something is wrong."

This wasn't adding up at all. Apologies? Concern? It had to be a trick, because if it wasn't, then Jackson had been wrong all along about everything. If he were wrong about this, what else was he wrong about? What else had he misread? He didn't want to think about it. He wanted out of this bathroom. Out of the castle entirely. He had practice to get to, because at least there he could hit something and not feel bad about it.

"Concerned for me?! You should be concerned about yourself!" He pushed off the wall properly, anger and aggression finally eclipsing his fear completely. "Everyone knows you're behind that monster, and it's only a matter of time before someone proves it!" He needed this to be right. He needed something, anything, to prove he hadn't been wrong about everything.

"They're saying that?" Draco said with genuine surprise, before he could stop himself. "Really. Well, isn't that typical. The last time this happened, I desperately wanted people to say it was because of me. But then I was thoroughly an idiot back then. I suppose Potter isn't around this time for the finger-pointing."

But he ought to call him. This monster rumor was getting a bit too serious for him to ignore much longer, and Harry might have some tips, he'd done enough monster-hunting when they'd been at school. And afterward he'd go to McGonagall, see what she thought about it.

That was something to pursue later, though. In the meantime, he still had a trouble, terrified student on his hands, although he seemed to be regaining his anger. Draco hadn't thought he'd ever be pleased to see that. "I'll manage my concern for myself, thank you. If you're going to bolt and go about your day as if this never happened, I'd advise you to tidy that up first," he nodded at Jackson's ear. It looked like the source of the goo had dried up, but it was still there.

As Draco spoke, Jackson's anger slowly grew. Like a bull preparing to charge, nostrils flared and neck tight. He had indeed been considering just storming out past the teacher and getting out of there while he had this moment of solid anger, something to cling to before he fell apart completely. But at the mention of tidying up, his attention shifted to the mirror beside him, and all of that anger just dissolved. His shoulders slumped, and he nearly dropped his wand.

"Why won't you just leave?!" He tried to make it sound demanding and forceful, an angry growl meant to intimidate. But it sounded defeated and pathetic to his ears.

"Because you're a student in distress and I wouldn't be much of a teacher if I abandoned you in the middle of that," Draco said, quiet and matter-of-fact. "But I'm not going to stop you if you leave."

In fact, he took two steps to the side, leaving the path to the door completely open, and out of his arm's reach the entire way. "Quidditch practice is starting soon, isn't it?"

The words that may have comforted others only pulled a sneer onto Jackson's face. He didn't need the help of someone like Draco. He didn't need help of anyone but himself. Finally, with a sullen sort of eye roll, he pushed off the wall, moving passed the teacher. "I never asked for your help," he spat, before ducking out of the bathroom, scrubbing at his ear with his sleeve.

After that, Jackson didn't show up for class. Well, at least not Draco's class. His friends whispered about it, but no one seemed too worried, except Matt, who seemed more angry than anything. But he just shoved his nose in his book and said nothing.

A the night after that, Draco would have a bit of a surprise on one of his evenings in the library. The school was dark and quiet, all students supposedly in bed. But in the dark of the library, along one of the shelves, there was a rather curious sound. Slithering, coupled with the sound of claws scraping on wood. Slow and cautious. A few rows away from where the teacher sat.

Draco was deeply absorbed in a thick and dusty book in the Restricted Section about body modification curses, partly because he wondered if it would make for an interestingly gruesome lecture and partly because he still couldn't quite get past the novelty of being allowed to be here, in the Restricted Section, unsupervised, whenever he wanted. He was on quite good terms with most of his colleagues, but Madam Pince would always frighten him a little.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raising before he caught the barely-there sound, but his wand was out in a moment. "Nox," he whispered, extinguishing his lantern before whatever it was could get any closer. Then he cast a silent Silencio on himself and backed away from where he'd been reading without even making a sound through the air. A part of him, the cosseted professor side, told him he was being needlessly paranoid, but he'd been hunted often enough in his life to remember what it felt like, and he'd rather feel like an idiot later than be careless now.

The noise fell away as Draco went silent, as the monster atop one of the shelves lifted its head. Clever wizards could hide, but this monster had far more than its ears to use. It climbed down, practically slithering down the end of the shelf as if the vertical surface were the floor, leaving splintered wood and a drops of nasty, clear slime in its wake. A slime that if touched would leave whatever appendage came in contact with it numb and useless for a time.

It could be heard, a soft growl as it moved across the floor, circling around the teacher. Moving too fast to be anything remotely human. Until it scaled the shelf nearest Draco's back, knocking a book down in its wake. If Draco looked up, he'd see eyes glowing, cat-like, in the darkness.

Draco did look up, and immediately cast a sharp Stupefy, which hit the creature and appeared to slither its way down the flanks as if the spell was moving on an oily slick surface, and didn't appear to have any lasting effect at all. His Petrificus Totalus slowed it down, it was visibly slower, but even as Draco watched, it seemed to shrug off the effects of a spell meant to paralyze it completely.

Hell, what was it? He'd thought an animagus, perhaps a partial transformation, but an animagus would be affected by Stupefy, they were as vulnerable to that whole class of spells as any other wizard, and all of this went through his head as he backed hurriedly away from it, knocking over a wooden-backed chair in his haste, casting about for spells he could use that could affect something like this.

"Protego," he snapped, holding out his wand and putting a Shield charm between himself and the, well, the monster, which was apparently real after all, it might give him time to think.

It seemed to shake the spells off like water on its scaly hide. It wasn't a matter of what the creature was, as technically there was still a wizard inside there. A very young, very desperate, very terrified wizard who got himself into all sorts of trouble. But what use was a curse if it could be so easily magicked away? The curse acted as a sort of shield itself, surrounding the creature the same way it surrounded the wizard's mind. Impervious, inside and out.

Being slowed down, if only briefly, seemed to enrage the creature. It leaped off the shelf, slamming onto the floor on all fours, charging toward the teacher. But the shield stopped it. The creature didn't even touch it, but rather seemed to sense the magical barrier and halted a few inches short. It stayed low to the ground, its thick, scaled tail raised high and flicking like an angry cat. Claws, glistening with venom, dug into the library floor, itching to dig them into the teacher instead.

"Well, we are at an impasse, aren't we," Draco murmured, examining the creature in the limited light from the Shield charm. It was the size of a human, but there the similarities stopped. If this was a wizard, it wasn't one right now.

He moved his wand experimentally to the left and the right, and noted the way the creature followed not the wand itself but the thickness of the barrier. It was certainly after him. But how intently?

"Avis," he snapped, and a flock of bright green songbirds shot out of the tip of his wand and circled over the creature's back, their chatter shattering the silence of the library. "Oppogno!" sent the placid little flock screaming angrily and lining up to dive-bomb the creature, which would hopefully give Draco a chance to put more distance between them. He flicked his wand at the hanging lamps to light them again, maybe the light would drive it off.

As the shield moved, the monster tried to lunge at Draco, as if it could break through a weaker edge. It growled and pressed lower to the ground, as if prepared to pounce. The appearance of the birds distracted the creature for a moment, but it snapped right back to Draco. With the shield gone, it could move in. It started forward, a slow, methodical step, when the first bird hit it.

It turned, slashing at nothing, missing the small thing as it dove at him. It jumped, clinging to a shelf and knocking several books in its wake, trying to get away from those birds. The lights, however, made the creature let out an angry hiss, somewhere between a snake and a cat. It scurried along the shelf, until it could leap onto the wall and crawl into the shadows near the ceiling. Clinging there like a spider.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject