Alright, so I know I said I wouldn't update for a few days, but earlier this morning I was possessed by the Fanfiction Demon and typed up this chapter.
I flew back to the manor and then traveled by Floo powder to Knockturn Alley. The used bookstore, for the first time in my experience, had one customer, but she left soon after I arrived. Vincent Wulfgar turned to me with a smile.
"Hello again. I've read the books you donated; they're great. That witch who just left bought one of them. How can I help you today?"
"I'm looking for some legal information, as it so happens. Do you have any idea if the Unbreakable Vow has ever been used as a substitute for prison?"
"Certainly. In the medieval ages it was quite common, and Japan used it up until the end of last century. The main reasons for abolishing its usage were, one, that it didn't satisfy the moral sense of justice held by the public, and two, there were often loopholes in the Vow due to some idiot deciding on the exact wording."
"I see. So there's no record of it being used in modern times?"
He looked keenly at me. "Does this have anything to do with your Dementor research, pray tell?"
"Yeah, it does. There's a man in Azkaban who'd been given the Dementor's Kiss, and I've managed to get his soul back for him, but he's still stuck in prison. I'm looking for a way to get him out."
"Fascinating. Well, there is one record. After the first war against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a woman in Japan was allowed to make a Vow rather than go to prison in order to continue with her work of raising dangerous magical animals; no one else wanted to take over for her, you see. As I'm sure you know, though, that's illegal in this country, and we're not particularly flexible about it."
"Right. Right. What about, if someone had already made the Vow before the Ministry found out about it?"
"The people who were involved with performing the spell necessary for the vow would probably be either fined or imprisoned, but as far as I know the actual prisoner might well be released, if there wasn't too much of a moral outcry."
"Aha. Thank you. One more thing, Vincent – is there any chance you'd write out the exact wording of a Vow for me?"
He looked at me with a mixture of suspicion and amusement. "Purely theoretical, I'm sure?"
"Of course. Your name wouldn't have to be on it, anyways, so even if it weren't, there would be no consequences for you."
"Alright then. Could be interesting. Of course, you're aware that at least three people are necessary for an Unbreakable Vow; the one making the vow, the one they're vowing it to, and the one who recites the vow and performs the spell?"
"Entirely."
"Actually, for the cases in the medieval ages, they used to have the subject make the vow to two people, in case one died."
"I understand."
Vincent Wulfgar gazed at me for a few more minutes, then went and found some parchment and a quill. He wrote down a few paragraphs, then spent quite a long while crossing out and rewriting parts of his work. Eventually, he handed the paper to me. I read it. It was an impressively loophole-free document. In essence, it decreed that the person making the vow would not be able to harm or kill anyone, or engage in a number of other illegal activities, without breaking their word (and thus dying).
"Thanks. This is absolutely perfect."
"No problem. Do tell me how it comes out, will you?"
"What, the theory?"
He smirked. "Yeah. That's right, of course."
I left the shop with the parchment in the pocket of my robes and entered Borgin and Burke's. As I stepped up to the fireplace within, I suddenly realized that in my hurry to depart the manor, I had neglected to bring enough Floo powder for the return journey. I swore heatedly.
"On a list of curses, that one's right up there with Avada Kedavra."
I turned around to see a tall young woman standing a few yards behind me.
"Oh. Sorry, I thought I was alone." The woman looked vaguely familiar, and I wondered if I'd seen her somewhere before. "Have we met, by any chance?"
"I don't think so. What's your name?"
"Draco Malfoy," I answered, noting as I did so that she had a slight American accent. "Yours?"
"Astoria Greengrass," she replied.
"That explains it. Your younger sister was in my year at Hogwarts." Daphne had practically waxed poetic about her beloved sister, who was only two years older and was going to school in America.
"Oh yes, dear Daphne. So tell me, Draco Malfoy, what are you doing in my store? Besides cursing the paint off the walls, that is."
"Your store? You own this place?" I was slightly startled. True, the Darker items that had been the signature of this store while it was in the possession of Mr. Borgin had vanished, and it was noticeably cleaner, but I hadn't thought the old man would leave his store to someone as young as Astoria; someone who'd gone to school in America, no less.
"Yeah, I do. Mr. Burke was my great uncle, and Borgin didn't have any relatives when he died a month ago. You haven't answered my question, though; what are you here for?"
"I was going to use the fireplace to travel back home, but it seems I've forgotten the Floo powder. Is there any chance you have some I could purchase?"
"Just a minute." Astoria disappeared among the dusty shelves, and returned shortly with a pot of Floo powder. I pulled a silver sickle out of my pocket and started to hand it to her, but she pushed it away.
"Never mind. You can have this one free on account of teaching me a beautiful new swear word."
I grinned and thanked her before returning to the manor. She seemed quite nice, I reflected; perhaps I would go back to Borgin and Burke's some time and peruse the items, and maybe have a chat with her while I was at it.
I pulled out the piece of parchment with the wording of the Unbreakable Vow on it and placed it on a table, sighing. Remembering what Vincent Wulfgar had said about needing four people, I realized what I had to do – but the thought of doing it was not a happy one. For the rest of the day and on into the night, I paced the room, listening to Hasselmans, trying to convince myself to just work up some courage and do it.
I didn't succeed, and that night I went to bed feeling extremely depressed with myself. I'd been through a war, I'd faced about a thousand Dementors in Siberia, and I'd returned a man's soul; why was it so hard to ask one person for a favor?
The next morning, I decided that I would just have to grit my teeth and do it. I apparated to the Ministry of Magic and made my way to the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures department. Following the signs, I eventually came to a bright, poster-covered door, which apparently led to the House Elf Rights section. I cautiously pushed open the door.
A young, bespectacled wizard dressed in vibrant robes smothered in pins and patches looked up from his desk. "Hello! Welcome to the offices of the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare! Are you here to help us Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status?"
"Er… no. I'm looking for Hermione Granger."
"Oh." The wizard's face fell a little. "She isn't here right now, she's working at home. But I can give her a call if you want!" he added, brightening. "She's taught me how to use a fellytone, you know."
"A what?"
"It's a muggle communication device. Look, here –" and he pointed to an odd-looking object resting on the corner of his desk.
"Okay, fine, use the fellytone if you want. Can you tell her that Draco Malfoy is here and would like to talk to her?"
"Okay!" He lifted the device off the desk and pressed a sequence of buttons, then held the thing to his ear and seemed to listen to it.
"Hello? Hermione! There's a guy here who wants to talk to you. Yeah, I don't think it's about House Elves. Do you want me to put him on the line? Right-o." He held out the device in my general direction.
"What do I do with it?"
"Just hold it like I was doing. You talk into this end and her voice comes out this end. It's really cool!"
I cautiously took the device from him and spoke into one end of it. "Hello?"
"Malfoy? Is that you?" Granger's voice sounded rather tinny, but I could make out what she was saying without much trouble.
"Yes. I need to talk to you. Privately."
"You can't just tell me over the phone?"
"It's called a phone, is it? No, I can't. Is there somewhere I can meet you?"
"Just a minute – Ron, there's an owl at the window, would you let him in? – yes, yes, I suppose you can come to my house. Ask Archie, he can give you directions."
"Very well. I'll see you later." I replaced the phone on its stand and turned to the brightly colored wizard. "You're Archie, I presume?"
"Spot on!"
"Granger said you could give me directions to her house. I need to talk to her there."
"Right." He scrawled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to me. I glanced at it, confirming I could read the messy handwriting, before thanking him and departing the office.
I apparated back to the manor and changed into a sweater and jeans. I paced around the drawing room for several minutes and then finally disapparated, appearing in a forest close to the address Archie had given to me. Surreptitiously, I made my way out of the wood and wandered down the distressingly non-magical streets before spying the house number I was looking for.
I walked up to the door and knocked. Someone yelled inside, and then the door was yanked open to reveal a distinctly unwelcome individual – Ronald Weasley.
"Oh, it's you," he said, distaste evident on his features. "I suppose you'll have to come in."
I nodded and swept disdainfully over the threshold (quite an accomplishment in muggle clothes), inspecting the house around me. It was handsomely furnished with reddish wood, and I grudgingly admitted to myself that either Granger or Weasley had decent taste in interior decoration.
The other denizen of the house emerged from a door off the hallway I currently stood in, pushing her bushy hair back from her face.
"Malfoy. How is your project coming?"
"Fine. It's fine." I hesitated, trying to nerve myself up for what I knew I'd have to say next. "Granger…" I swallowed. "I need a favor."
Chapter IX done! I should have the next one up tomorrow or the day after... Reviews are beautiful things, people.
