Chapter 9

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The night was deceptively calm as Draco walked amongst the soft sands. The hardened earth under his feet was cracked, yet felt flaccid whenever he moved, grains of sand folding over itself so that his feet dipped with each step. The night was just as dark as before, with fewer stars decorating the sky. Before him rose the impressive rock, twisting and turning, morphing into a new shape, something he had never seen before.

Previously it had been an impressive mountain, its face smooth and grand. Now it stood jagged over him, a rock with sharp angles protruding in all directions. It was changing and Draco knew that such a change wasn't for the better.

The sudden sound of rushing water caused him to turn around, but all that was behind him was nothing. An emptiness wrapped in darkness, a hollowness that he recognised all too well.

Then he looked down.

The water came up through the cracks, quickly coating his ankles, his calves, his knees, and then his hips. Just as it reached Draco's waist, he felt the ground give way under him, as if he had been standing on solid ground all this time and he lost his footing, falling into the water, his head going under, deeper than he had ever been.

His breath hitched as the water surrounded him, an invisible force pulling him deeper and deeper into the water as his lungs burned with the need to breathe. He raised both arms in an effort to hold onto something, to stop himself from being dragged down, but all he felt was water around him, elusive waves that pushed against his body from all sides.

"This is not for the faint of heart, Draco."

There was still light above him, blurry through the water, and he tried to reach for it, struggling again and again while trying to get himself released. His father's voice was clear among the rippling water that surrounded him.

"You are too young."

Then the light became darkness and there was nothing around him but silence.

Hermione waited patiently as Harry lifted his head from the Pensieve. He frowned, his eyes tired, as he regarded the silvery memory carefully.

"What do you think?" Hermione asked softly. She stayed seated on the chair on the visitor's side of Harry's desk, her upper body twisting as she tried to decipher what her best friend thought from his expression alone. "It's new, isn't it?"

Harry looked up at her in surprise, almost as if he had forgotten that she had been there the whole time. "It's definitely a new memory," he said slowly, his tone careful. "There are parts of it that are still hazy…"

"I think those are the parts that he can't remember. What happened is pretty clear, it's the details that he's not too sure about."

Harry nodded as he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Hermione stared at him with concern.

"Are you all right?"

He put on his glasses and nodded again, before making his way to his side of the large desk. "I'm just tired." He practically fell onto his chair, making Hermione feel even more concerned than before. "There was another disaster last night."

Hermione felt her back stiffen. "Where?" she asked softly.

"South Asia."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"There would have been nothing for you to do." The way he said that, his voice flat, as if all the hope had been drained from him, made Hermione's existing fears worsen. Harry saw her expression and confirmed her suspicions. "It was mostly saving the bodies, not the people."

Hermione's fingers flinched, her hand tightening around the arms of the chair she sat in. "What happened?"

At this question, Harry let out a light laugh, one devoid of humour but full of sadness. "A giant wave," he said with a flourish.

Hermione eyed him in confusion. "A giant wave? How is that possible?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. But this is getting out of hand. We need to know what's behind it. If there is something behind it."

"I would think there wasn't, but…" She trailed off, her thoughts running quickly enough.

"But…?" Harry prompted her.

"The fact that Malfoy knows whenever these disasters hit must mean something."

"I'm almost positive it does. Which is why you need to go back and convince him to undergo the treatment again."

Hermione let out a surprised breath. "But, Harry, he's not ready. He's weak. The Healers said—"

"I don't care what the Healers said," Harry said, interrupting her easily. He gestured to the Pensieve that stood at the other end of his office. "This proves that what Ryer did actually worked. We need all of his memories. If he is somehow connected to what is happening in the world, we need to know how and why."

"We can't jeopardise his mind, Harry. You said it yourself; he could be the answer to all of this. If we don't approach this properly we could damage his mind and our one possible way to stop this thing."

"We can't wait," he said passionately.

"We have to," Hermione stated just as stubbornly.

Harry shook his head, his shoulders slumping from fatigue. "There were more children than I had ever seen before, Hermione. Full families whose only crime was living where they lived."

Hermione felt the corners of her eyes prickle with tears but blinked them away quickly. "I know," she said thickly. "Which is why we can't afford to make a mistake." She sat up straighter, a small sniffle escaping her. "Let me talk to him. Let me try to convince him. We shouldn't do the treatment again so soon, but we should be ready to do it anyway. In the mean time, you can show the memory to Professor Ryer and ask him what he plans to do next."

"There is one other thing."

Hermione watched as Harry leaned back and opened the topmost drawer of his table. He shifted a few things before he pulled what looked to be a simple gold ring. Hermione took it from his outstretched palm in confusion. "What is this?"

He smiled. "Got the idea from you, actually. I put a Protean Charm on it, just like you taught me. Convinced Kingsley that we needed a faster way to get help whenever these disasters came up, and nothing was faster than this."

Hermione slipped it on her fourth finger of her right hand, which seemed to be the perfect fit. "Everyone got rings from you?" She teased him. "That must have caused quite the scandal."

Harry let out a small laugh. "You, me, Kingsley and Padma have the rings. We are the primary researchers who know about Draco's case, so if anything happens and if you want to talk to any of us, charm it and we will be where you are as soon as we can."

He then opened another drawer and pulled out a Galleon. Hermione's smile widened, as she instantly understood what her best friend had done.

"This is distributed more widely. Kingsley is the only person with the power to tell us the time and place of a disaster as soon as it occurs. This way we will know when we're needed. I don't need to explain to you how it works, I guess," Harry said with a touch of humour as he handed it to her. Hermione pocketed the Galleon carefully, making a mental note not to mistake it with the money she already had.

Harry's expression turned sombre. "I sincerely hope that we never get to use it."

Hermione let out a small sigh. "Why do I think that that is a lost hope?"

"Maybe because it is?" Harry shrugged lightly, his entire demeanour screaming negativity and acceptance. "When do you plan to go see Malfoy?"

"Maybe tomorrow." She paused, biting her lower lip in agitation. "I know that this is hard, but you do understand that we can't rush into this, right? If Malfoy is the key to the solution, we must be careful."

Harry nodded, a small, casual shrug escaping him as he said, "I understand."

Hermione eyed him suspiciously. She had known him for years. She never knew him to accept what she said so quickly on an issue they disagreed on, especially when someone's life was at stake. "Do you?" she asked cautiously.

"Of course," Harry said carefully, his voice slow. "You're right about this, Hermione. I know that."

Forty-three, forty-four, forty-five…

The door opened and someone entered his room. The Healer moved around a bit, collecting discarded plates and dishes, tidying up in an efficient way before she turned to face him.

Forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one, fifty-two…

"Feeling better?" she asked softly as a cool hand was placed on his forehead. "You're not burning up anymore."

Fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight…

She checked his bindings, swiftly tightening the leather around his ankles and wrists when she noticed how slack they had become.

She looked at him in confusion. "What are you doing?"

Fifty-nine, sixty…

"Counting," Draco said curtly. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling, his lips softly moving to a count in his head. There were a series of square-shaped white tiles on the ceiling. After being bored for a few hours, he decided to entertain himself by counting how many squares can be added into a square. He had tried several times and lost the count half way though. If he was to be held prisoner, at least there was something to look forward to, a puzzle to be solved.

The Healer let out an exasperated sigh. He was probably one of the most stubborn patients they had to care for outside of the mental ward. It gave Draco a sense of pride to think that even after so many years he was still able to irritate wizards and witches alike.

"There's a visitor to see you."

Draco stopped mid-count to look at her. He immediately thought of the last time Granger had come to see him, the expression on her face as she leant over him and begged him for his memory. It had been two days since then.

He frowned. She said that she would ask his captors to loosen his straps.

Draco tried moving his arm and felt the leather chafe his wrist. "Did you have to tighten these?" he asked angrily as he gritted his teeth and squirmed against his bindings.

The Healer's lips pursed. "I think it's best. The last thing we need is for you to attack our distinguished guest."

Draco collapsed onto the pillow only to give the Healer the most condescending glare he could. "I don't think Hermione Granger would be unable to defend herself if I go at her wandless."

The Healer shook her head. "Ms Granger is not your visitor."

Draco's face scrunched up in confusion. "Then who—?"

"Malfoy."

Draco felt a chill travel up his spine, one that started with fear and end with anger. "Potter," he sneered, his eyes falling on his childhood nemesis. "Come to take me back to Azkaban?"

Potter eyed him warily before dismissing the Healer. Once she had left, sharing a polite smile with Potter that made Draco's eyes roll in disgust, he conjured up a chair and took his seat where Granger had sat a few days ago.

"We need to talk," Potter began, his tone pompous, as he sounded all-important.

Draco simply raised a mocking eyebrow at him as he waited.

Potter didn't look half as deterred as Draco had expected. "I'm sure you noticed that the treatment worked. But what we got wasn't enough."

"You want me to go through that again," Draco said softly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

Potter didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Draco blinked up at him before he leant back and let out a hearty laugh. "If you want to kill me so badly, a curse would be faster."

Potter scowled. "You're a git and a bully. You always have been. But I never wanted to kill you, Malfoy. If we could do this without hurting you, believe me, we would try." He leant closer. "As it is, people are dying and we are running out of time."

Draco chuckled. "Shove off, Potter. Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe what is happening has nothing to do with me? Maybe the world is angry and it's taking out its anger on us, the innocent folks."

"This is different. Paris, Hong Kong, America, Thailand and Egypt. These are only some of the disaster-ridden countries. The Netherlands, Brazil, Russia…" Potter trailed off, his brows scrunching together suspiciously. "What is it?"

Draco schooled his features, realising too late that his thoughts had been freely playing on his face not a moment ago. He looked away as Potter's tone became urgent.

"You know something, Malfoy. What is it?"

There was a memory he could barely remember, blurred faces in a blurred room, but the voices were clear.

"Wait for my signal."

Draco shook his head, his mind becoming foggy with a memory he wasn't sure that he ever had before.

"Malfoy!" Potter called him harshly, a firm grip circling his shoulder and shaking him roughly. "Tell me, or I swear to all things magic—"

"What's the other place? There was another place, wasn't there?"

Potter eyed him apprehensively as he let go, his fingers flexing as if he was ready for a fight. "How do you know there was another place?"

He couldn't remember the memory exactly, but the knowledge was already in his mind even though he couldn't recall how he came about it. "Was it Nairobi?"

Potter's eyes narrowed. "Did you cause all this?" he asked harshly, his anger evident and his very behaviour enough to confirm Draco's suspicions. "Did you cause all those unnecessary deaths?"

Draco scoffed. "Use your brains, Potter. I've been locked up in Azkaban for more days than I can count. A bit difficult to control the elements from behind charmed bars while being wandless, don't you think?"

Potter glared at him. "You know something."

"I know many things," Draco said with a tone dripping in snark. "It would take years to even try and impart the knowledge I know to you."

Potter didn't have an amused bone in his body. "I will send you back to Azkaban if I have to."

"You will send me anyway."

He paused, using a deep breath to control his anger. "What do you want?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I want to see my mother," Draco said without any hesitation. All he had thought about was how worried she probably was. As much as he loathed showing any weakness in front of Potter, of all people, Draco couldn't help but crave some sort of affection. She was the only family he had. He couldn't lose her like he had lost his father.

Potter pursed his lips in thought, a frown marring his features as he thought about Draco's request for a moment. "Fine," he breathed out harshly. "But only if your information proves important."

Draco recognised that this was probably the best that he could get. He turned away from Potter, closing his eyes in an effort to remember.

"The Dark Lord had followers everywhere. He had groups of wizards who were prepared to attack and take over the world when the time came." Draco opened his eyes and turned towards Potter. "When he had killed you."

Potter's eyes brightened as if he had finally figured out a particularly hard puzzle. "These were the places?"

"The exact places."

"Were there any more?" Potter leant forward, his excitement hardly contained. "Were there any other places where Voldemort had his army?"

Draco winced. "A few more. They had to wait for his signal."

"Where else, Malfoy? Where else were they?"

Draco sighed. "I wish I could remember, but the leather is cutting into my skin and making me forget."

Potter let out a low breath, his green eyes sparking in anger. "This is not the time for games."

"I'm not playing," Draco said with a sneer. "If you want information, I will give it to you. But I want something in return." To prove his point further, he struggled against the bindings around his wrist.

With an angry expression, Potter pulled out his wand and charmed the bindings off the bed. Draco sat up immediately, a happy sigh falling from his lips as he rubbed at the sore skin around his wrist.

"Now, Malfoy. I don't have all day."

Draco's eyebrows scrunched in thought. "Australia, South Africa and Canada." He wasn't sure, exactly, but he was close enough. As he held Potter's attention, Draco entertained the idea of grabbing the man's wand, before dismissing it almost as quickly. He was still weak. He didn't have enough strength to get out of bed without assistance, let alone fight off Potter.

"Those are the next places, then." Potter stood up, his lips moving quickly as he mumbled to himself. "There are still Death Eaters out there; active Death Eaters. This was Voldemort's plan in case he failed."

Draco flinched, the sound of the name still raising the hairs at the back of his neck.

"If he couldn't win the world, no one could," Potter muttered to himself.

Malfoy shook his head as he continued to rub his skin gently. He didn't give a flying hippogriff's arse what Potter was on about.

With a flick of his wand, the chair disappeared, before Potter quickly made his way out of Draco's room.

"Potter!" Draco called after him without a single thought.

As Potter paused to look at him, Draco faltered.

"My mother…"

"I'll let her know you're here. She'll be able to visit you soon."

Draco barely nodded before Potter was out of the room. A Healer came in just after, shrieked when she realised he was out of his bindings, and charmed stronger leather straps to put him back where he was supposed to be. Promising that he wouldn't try to escape fell on deaf ears. The Healer tightened his bindings as an extra precaution.

Draco sighed as he leant back and got comfortable against the bedding. For a moment there he was about to ask Potter why Granger hadn't come to visit him. He could just imagine Potter's expression if he had asked him such a question.

How silly.

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