A/N: As promised, a proper chapter, and one written and published before New Year! I impress myself with my speed ;)


The street was dark, and silent. Wooden signs swung in the breeze, and small puddles, the only evidence of the earlier storm, glinted in the light that poured from the windows of a crowded pub. A sudden crack pierced the stillness, and the air was quickly filled with an awful shrieking, as the little village of Hogsmeade sought to warn its captors of the arrival of the three new intruders. The door of the pub was flung open, and several black hooded figures rushed out, brandishing wands and yelling over the already deafening cacophony. Suddenly, at the wave of a wand, the shrieking ceased, and a beefy looking man roared in a grating voice, trying to summon a cloak.

Under said garment, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley began to panic. They had expected some opposition in the village, but nothing like the welcome they had received. Backing away from the searching figures, they managed to get back into a small alley near the Hog's Head pub, when Ron stood on Hermione's foot, panicked, and promptly knocked over a dustbin. The clattering of the bin on the ground made the hooded Death Eaters close in on their position, and though the trio tried to disapparate, the air appeared to have become solid around them. Harry looked around for another route out of the alley, but there were no doors, and other than the way they had come in, they were surrounded by solid brick.

A sudden chill crept into the air, and Harry's breath began to appear in clouds. Hermione grabbed his arm, and, heart sinking, he looked back towards the alley entrance. Two cloaked and sinister dementors were gliding along towards them, turning the puddles to ice, and freezing Harry's mind. As if in a dream, he saw Hermione's wand give off a sliver of silvery mist before she collapsed against the wall, and Ron's silver terrier expire as swiftly as it had appeared. Before the darkness took him, Harry saw a bright blue light, and a great silver beast erupt into the gloom. Then he succumbed to the screaming, and the unfeeling dark.


Draco Malfoy arrived in Hogsmeade, soaking wet and freezing cold. He was tired, he needed food, and most of all he needed to think of a plan. But when the blue light vanished and his vision cleared, any thoughts of finding a bed in the Hogs Head or sitting down in the Three Broomsticks with a large plate of liver and bacon were dashed from his weary mind. Two dementors were floating down the alley in his direction, and so without thinking, he thrust his wand out in front of him, and thought of England. Well, Wiltshire, specifically the manor in the days when his father was still powerful, and his mother was happy. A great silvery wolf burst from his wand, and the dementors quickly turned tail and left the alley, trying to escape the happy thoughts that pursued them. Draco followed his patronus out into the main street of Hogsmeade, only to be confronted with a round dozen Death Eaters, each one holding a wand, and each one pointing it at him.

"Stop right there, Potter, we've got you n-" A large man spoke with a slightly gleeful tone, which vanished with his next sentence. "Hang on, you ain't Potter."

"O'course he's not Potter, since when has Potter been blonde?" Another, equally large man yelled at his companion, who turned away from their prisoner to yell back.

"I know that! I ain't stupid or nothin'." He turned back to Draco. "Who the bloody hell are you, then?"

Draco stuck his chin up in the air, and spoke with what he hoped sounded like an arrogant tone.

"Draco Malfoy, and you would do better not to go around accusing your own allies of being the enemy!"

There was a momentary pause of complete silence, in which Draco allowed himself a small smirk. However, when the silence broke, it was to roars of laughter from all of the congregated Death Eaters, and the expression quickly turned into a frown.

"Draco Malfoy, ha ha, that's a good'un!" The large Death Eater threw his head back and gave another great bellowing laugh.

"No, really, I am! Look-" Draco swept back his cloak and pulled up his left sleeve, revealing the mark that resided there, and showed them the finger on which the Malfoy signet ring sat. The looks of mirth on the Death Eaters' faces slowly turned to those of confusion.

"But hang on, if you really are Draco Malfoy, and you really do 'ave the Mark, then 'oo set of the Caterwauling Charm?"

"Well he can't have done, Crabbe, only those without the mark can set it off-"

"I KNOW THAT!" The large man, Crabbe, cut the woman off, and she gracefully stepped back from the front of the group with a bow of her head. Crabbe looked back at Draco and addressed his companions.

"Right, so if this here is Draco, an' he's got the Mark, then he can't have set the charm off, and so there must be someone else 'ere!" Looking pleased with his logic, Crabbe turned to the alley and yelled, "POTTER! Better start running, 'cause we're coming to getcha!"

As Crabbe started running towards the alley, the cogs in Draco's brain started turning. If he hadn't set the charm off, then someone else must have done it… after all, those dementors couldn't have been in that alley by accident… and that meant that someone else must have arrived before he did. He glanced at a discarded copy of the Daily Prophet at his feet. May 12th. He had arrived later than he had wanted to… Suddenly, as he thought this, something in his mind clicked. Potter.

"Stop!"

Crabbe skidded to a halt outside a boarded up shop front, and glared at Draco. He could feel the eyes of all of the other Death Eaters on him as he hesitantly spoke.

"I… I did set off the charm. Not by apparating," he said when the other large man looked about to correct him, "by… When I arrived, I, er, dropped my… wand, yes, and that must have set it off."

The Death Eaters exchanged glances, and a tall woman stepped out from the crowd and spoke to him.

"Yes, that would indeed have set it off, but why did you not show yourself at once?"

"I, er, tripped over my robes, and… landed in a puddle."

The woman looked him up and down, and, upon seeing the mud and dirt he was caked in, seemed to take this as a worthy excuse, as she nodded once and stepped back into the fray. Crabbe stalked back slowly, looking murderous. He spoke quickly with his large double, and huffed as he glared at Draco.

"Fine. But what was you doing 'ere anyway?"

This time, Draco spoke the truth. Or at least, as much of it as he was willing to reveal.

"I came to inquire about a room at the Hog's Head. I did not realise that my arrival would cause such a disturbance."

"But why'd you need a room in the first place?" Draco remained silent. "Oho. Oho!" Crabbe turned back to the rest of the Death Eaters, practically grinning from ear to ear.

"He's been kicked out! His father finally 'ad enough of him not doin' nothing for the Dark Lord, and bein' a disappointment an' all, and kicked 'im out!" Laughing gleefully, he looked at Draco and pointed at him with a shaking finger.

"You ain't got nothin'! Ha! Well, you can go 'ave your room at the Hog's Head, and you can think of what your master's gonna do to you when he finds out! Ha ha… You know, this was almost worth all the hassle of comin' out 'ere… Draco Malfoy, kicked out of his own 'ouse…"

With that, he and the other Death Eaters traipsed back to the Three Broomsticks, conveniently (for Draco, that is) forgetting to reset the Caterwauling Charm. Draco waited until the last one had vanished through the pub doors, before running back down the alley. He lit his wand, and kept it carefully trained on the ground in front of him, as he gingerly crept along. Suddenly, he heard a groan slightly up ahead of him, and quickened his pace, only to trip over an invisible leg and land face first in a large, muddy puddle.