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

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.

The distraction allowed him to watch the movements of the creature more closely, even as he tried to think of other spells he could use on it. He'd need to try some combination of spells to counter Dark magic, spells to control animals, spells that affected wizards. The light bothered it, but it didn't stop it. And scurrying up the wall and onto the ceiling wasn't something he'd expected at all, what a bizarre combination of traits.

He pointed his wand and cast a sharp, "Immobilus." Maybe if he treated it as an object, he might be able to freeze it in its tracks.

All at once the creature halted, mid-climb. It didn't go rigid or fight, and the magic didn't slide right off its scales. It just stopped. Well, it stopped climbing. But unable to move, it couldn't adjust its grip, couldn't shift its weight to get a new grip on the wall. And it fell, gracelessly, hitting the floor hard enough splinter the floor boards.

It let out a nasty hiss struggling to move against the spell, ugly, gray teeth gnashing as the only movement it could manage.

Draco's eyes widened as the creature fell from the ceiling, but it had hit the floor before Draco's Arresto Momentum was even halfway recited. He winced at the crash, but advanced slowly, wand extended.

"Well now." He crouched, still a good five feet away, examining the body closely, keeping a careful watch for signs of it becoming a little too mobile again. He wished he could cast Finite Incantatem, see if it changed shape, but that would undo the charm holding it in place. "What exactly are you?" he asked idly as he Transfigured a scrap of paper into a small vial and levitated a smear of venom from the thing's claws. This might help him find out.

The creature had no patience for this, it's slitted gaze following Draco with murderous intent. The sounds it made were unlike any known creature, growling and hissing between its nasty teeth. It had a mission to carry out, a task to finish. Kill the teacher, tear him apart. The teacher was right there, close enough to bite, but it couldn't move.

The magic wasn't lasting as long as it should, starting to wear off moments after the sample was collected. It's fingers started to twitch. Only slightly at first, little more than a quiver. But slowly, it could flex its fingers, trying to overcome the magic and reach for Draco.

After he'd secured the venom, Draco took his wand again, intending to paralyze the creature again and transport it somewhere safe, when he heard the scrape of another footstep and he stood again sharply. "Who's there?" he said loudly, taking a step or two back from the creature. "Is that a student out of bed? Get out of the library, now! Back to your dormitory!"

Matt had been watching in the shadows since before the monster even arrived, wanting to be rid of the professor at last. It would work to the school's reputation, losing a Dark Art's teacher in some nasty way. It was meant to be, honestly. But he couldn't get the monster to move after it had been stunned. No command seemed able to shake the magic free. And if he tried to dispell it, he risked undoing several delicate aspects of the curse.

As Draco moved in on the creature once more, Matt knew he had to act, lest his precious pet be exposed. He tucked the amulet that let him command the thing into his shirt so it wouldn't be seen, only then taking a slow, audible step toward the teacher. Putting on his best terrified face, even mustering up a few unshed tears, he stepped hesitantly into the light. "I'm...I'm sorry, Professor Malfoy. I--I--I didn't--I was--" He looked toward the creature, looking too terrified to move.

GET UP! he silently commanded.

The creature tried, one hand giving a violent twitch, and Matt jumped back, his back hitting a shelf.

Draco didn't hesitate, even as he searched his memory for the name of the student, and his year, and his House. He grabbed the student's shirt and dragged him away from the shelf, and away from the growling, twitching creature, almost flipped over now, and didn't stop moving until the library doors slammed behind them. Quickly he spelled them sealed shut and left a floating warning in glowing green letters, DO NOT ENTER, and signed it, before finally turning to him.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he demanded, and continued without pausing, "Ten points from Hufflepuff, it's after hours, you could have been killed, Daehler, get back to your dorm."

The entire way out, and even as Draco spoke, Matt tried to explain himself. Stammering through apologies and fumbling his words, he never seemed to be quite coherent. He tried to answer the question. "Studying!" He blurted out. "For the O--" but he just nodded, seeming to shrink into himself when the the points were taken away, properly shamed. When he was dismissed, he just nodded and bolted down the hall. Later there would be a fair bit of silent boasting about what a fool Draco was for buying any of it.

The creature was gone from the library before anyone could check on it, having escaped through some hidden passage not accessible to the average student. The next day, Jackson was back in his classes, looking more sullen and distracted than usual, but no different than that. He made no waves, and didn't even speak up. He just stayed huddled with his friends, who seemed to be continuing their mild tolerance of Matt.

A few days later, the students were all in a tizzy over the latest news. Someone in a nearby town had been murdered. Well, some said murder, the way rumors went. But the official story was that a rogue creature, the specific nature of which was still unknown, had attacked an unfortunate wizard, his torso all torn up by claws. The direct impact this had on the school was that the wizard was the father of one of the school's less than fortunate students. Jackson didn't seem to care. Even when pulled out of class to talk about it because he happened to know the family.

Draco would be involved in some of these conversations, someone mentioning that the wizard had been paralyzed before being torn apart.

After his encounter, Draco had gone to McGonagall to confirm the presence of some type of creature in the school, something that wasn't affected by certain types of spells, and the Heads of Houses were brought into a meeting to discuss what they ought to do about it. It couldn't be detected, not by any means they'd attempted, and only his unusually-vehement insistence and the cracked floor boards and claw marks in the library convinced the other professors he hadn't simply dreamed it all. But in the end, they made no announcement, only pledging to stay vigilant, and he'd been forced to settle for that.

The murder, or simply the death, in Hogsmeade changed all of that. While the Heads of House came up with ways to keep the grounds secure and the students safe, Draco investigated on his own. The paralysis of the victim had been the confirmation Draco had needed, he was certain it was the same creature he'd encountered, which was worrisome given that Hogwarts was meant to be impenetrable. The Vanishing Cabinet was gone, burnt to ash by Fiendfyre years ago, and the secret passages had been stopped up and collapsed during the Second Wizarding War as well, but it was getting back and forth somehow.

The creature hadn't had a human level of intelligence but it had certainly had a target in mind when it had come after Draco, and why would it have gone after that particular wizard? He began with the boy's friends, then the people who had known him less well, and eventually he came to Jackson, slumped in a desk in his classroom, almost identical to their conversation about Voldemort right down to the indifferent glare, but there wasn't quite the same fire behind it today.

Draco leaned on his desk and waited a few moments, considering him. "Can't sleep?"

Secret passages were unnecessary and walls pointless to a creature who could climb vertical surfaces as easily as walking on flat ground. With all the creatures on the grounds and in the forest, who would notice one more strange beast moving through the shadows of the night?

Jackson's gaze faltered at the question, glancing away, before refocusing on Draco. What the hell kind of question was THAT? Of course he wasn't sleeping. He was a fifth year. That meant extra tests to study for. Extra stress. Then there were quiddich practices on top of it. If he wanted a chance at being captain soon, he had to push harder, he had to be better.

"What do you think?" he snapped. He sat up a little straighter, still looking irritated. "Look, I don't know anything. I haven't talked to Isaac in years. What else do you want?"

In truth, Draco didn't expect to make much progress with Jackson in the matter of the investigation, but it had been some time since they'd last talked. Not since the incident in the bathroom, in fact. Draco had been swept up in his teaching duties, and then by the investigation for the creature that had attacked him, and Jackson had unfortunately fallen by the wayside somewhat. This had been an excuse to see him again, individually, privately.

Always an uphill battle, of course. "Any more appearances of black ooze in places it shouldn't be?" he asked, trying the head-on approach this time, and watching for the reaction.

Jackson's attention snapped right to Draco's face, an offended sneer settling onto his features. He'd been hoping that incident had been forgotten completely, or at least Draco would have let it go. Jackson had shown no further signs of dark magic beyond that, aside from periodically feeling exhausted when he woke up. And there were those few times he seemed to just lose time. But that only been twice. Then there was the blood he'd found, just a few spots of it, on his bed the morning that wizard was found dead. None of this had anything to do with what happened over the summer. It could be anything.

"No," he snapped. An absolute lie. "It was one time. Why do you care about that, anyway? It's over." Almost frantically defensive. It wasn't as common anymore, so it wasn't a problem. And it wasn't hindering anything, it was just weird and annoying.

"Is it." Could Jackson feel the depths of his skepticism in the baleful stare Draco directed at him? This was worse than a failing grade on an exam, not that Jackson had ever come close to something like that, not that he ever would, the way he pushed himself. In everything. Draco was certainly familiar with that feeling, and he spared a moment to wonder what the motivation was for Jackson, compared to what it had been for him.

"Why do you waste my time by lying to me when I already know it's a lie? It's happened more than once, and it's the side effect of a curse, of course I care about that. And I am going to continue asking about it. Save us both the time and be honest with me."

To someone who didn't know him, the look Jackson gave was just even angrier. But to anyone who knew him well enough, or knew his state of mine, it was stark terror, the moment Malfoy said the word "curse." It was there just for a moment, before he was able to squash it back down and resume his usual brand of surly sulking.

He needed to tell Malfoy something. Anything. "It was..something that happened back over the summer. An accident. That black stuff is the only thing that's happened. And it's getting better. I was..." he seemed to draw into himself, more resigned and defeated. "...coughing it up, all night, before school started." He sunk deeper into his chair, as if admitting that were something horrible and shameful.

Draco didn't know Jackson very well, but he was watching closely for any reaction, and he might not have spotted the depths of that fear, but he certainly caught the glimpse. And his explanation of 'an accident' and that being the only side effect...plausible, but Draco's instincts were telling him there was more here than he could see on the surface.

He tipped his head back and stared at the dragon skeleton that still hung from the ceiling of the Dark Arts classroom, it had been there when he'd been eleven and it had made it through everything from Lockhart's pixies to the Second Wizarding War, it would probably be there forever at this point, no matter how many times it was damaged. But it didn't have any answers for him, and with a sigh he turned his attention back to Jackson.

"You know I haven't told anyone about what happened that day," he said. "I don't plan to. Do you know why? Because," he continued before Jackson could even draw breath to answer him, "you were terrified out of your wits, and I know it wasn't because of me. I'm not that frightening. You weren't in your right mind, and I should have sent you straight to Madam Pomfrey. I should do that now, but somehow I think the idea of missing classes and falling behind, even a little bit..." He trailed off, at last, to watch for this reaction.

The more Malfoy talked, the deeper Jackson seemed to sink in his chair. He wasn't even slouching, just drawing in on himself, his gaze focused somewhere to the side of his teacher's elbow, glaring as if he could bore a hole through the wall behind him. Why did Malfoy even care? Wasn't he supposed to be the entitled king of Slytherin or something? Wasn't his family saturated with dark magic? Or was all of that just propaganda? Then again, the scraps of rumors still lingering didn't exactly paint a complete or accurate picture.

Before he could answer, however, the door opened and Matt shoved his head inside. "Professor, sorry for not--oh." He was a moderately handsome Hufflepuff boy with dark curly hair and startling pale eyes. Those eyes fell on the back of Jackson's head and his eyebrows furrowed, a slightly puzzled from tugging at his face. "Sorry. I'll just...wait out here."

Draco was watching Jackson closely, marking the way he was growing smaller, and angrier, he was certainly making progress somewhere, even if he wasn't certain where yet. Then the door opened and Draco's head snapped around, eyes narrowing in irritation.

"Thank you, Mr. Daehler, I'll be finished here shortly," he said immediately, unavoidably a little cold. Most students knocked before entering, if only because it had gotten around that Professor Malfoy preferred that, but he hadn't wanted to lock the door, he hadn't wanted Jackson to feel too trapped or cornered.

But by the time Matt sheepishly closed the door behind himself, something had shifted in Jackson. He wasn't angry any longer. He wasn't even irritated. Every last emotion seemed to have been wiped completely off his face. He still seemed to be staring at that spot on the on the wall, but in a less focused sort of way.

Completely unresponsive to Malfoy, as if the teacher weren't even in the room, Jackson got to his feet, calm as ever. But there was something slightly unnatural and stiff about his movements, not at all the casual grace of well honed athlete. Leaving his bag and books behind, he simply turned and moved toward the door.

Keep your silver, give me that gold

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

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)