Chapter Twelve
The large circular room that was Dumbledore's Office remained mostly unchanged since Draco had last been there. It was cluttered as usual, but Draco had always found it to be a pleasant clutter.
The décor spoke of a man who had experienced much in his many years; one who had accumulated a vast repository of memories that he chose to remind himself of, through the many possessions that he kept for display and tinkering.
Fawkes the Phoenix was conspicuously absent, likely on a personal errand somewhere for Dumbledore. The Sorting Hat sat on the shelf behind Dumbledore's claw-footed desk was looking rather faded and woebegone. To Draco's left, the portrait of Phineas Black was staring beadily at him.
"Looking more and more like your father every day, boy," commented the portrait of the former Headmaster.
"Thanks," muttered Draco, who was by now quite used to hearing the comment.
There were five people looking at him rather seriously. Dumbledore was noticeably less jovial but gave him a reassuring smile, nonetheless. Alastor Moody and Horatio Coon looked to be in the middle of a disagreement, while Arthur Weasley, meanwhile seemed thin and tired.
There was also a young woman, an Auror probably, Draco guessed, seeing as she lacked the pale, slightly jaundiced look of the Ministry's overworked paper pushers. She stood from the others not just because she was female, but also because she was sporting waist length hair that was the colour of ripe blueberries. Draco recalled Snape mentioning a name earlier, and he regretted not paying attention.
"Take a seat Draco, Severus," Dumbledore said, in a mild voice. The Headmaster dug into a desk drawer and produced a large uncapped jar. "Toffee?" he asked the assembled group.
Everyone declined politely, with the exception of the woman. She accepted a particularly fat specimen with a gracious smile and then proceeded to chew on it in silence.
"I realise you probably have a few questions of your own, Draco, but its best we get the preliminaries over with, agreed?" Dumbledore said. He had put on his spectacles.
Moody pulled out a quill and a battered, dog-eared notebook and began the questions. "Granger tells us that the two of you were likely the closest ones to the location of the Mark when it was shot off. This occurred roughly at the end your Defence lesson with Professor Lupin after lunch this afternoon, is this correct?"
Draco tried hard not to gawk at Moody's magical eye as it proceeded to slowly body-scan Draco, starting from his shoes. "Yes."
"Granger and Weasley have indicated, as shown on this map, your approximate location when you witnessed the Mark." Moody placed the map on Dumbledore's desk. "Is this accurate?"
Draco leaned forward in his seat to have a look, blinking slightly at the strong scent of mildew and mothballs that was coming of Moody's long coat. Granger hadn't only marked the location, the chronic over-achiever had traced a line from where they had commenced their foray into the forest, to where they had first seen the Mark.
"That's accurate," he confirmed.
Moody stepped back, seemingly satisfied. Coon took over. "Did you see or hear anything odd while you were in the forest?"
"Other than the fact that students were undertaking grounds-keeping duties, no," Draco replied, in a flippant tone he hadn't used when speaking to Moody.
"It'd be better if you dropped the attitude, Malfoy," Coon warned.
The bald, greasy little midget had changed little since Draco had last seen him. He had obviously been promoted within the Ministry, given that he was now accompanying the Minister on trips. Lucius had always said that Ministry brown-nosers were to be mildly tolerated because they often had their specific uses. It was a worry, however, that Arthur Weasley seemed to take this one so seriously.
"Settle down, Coon, you know this is how he usually is," announced the blue-haired woman.
Draco frowned at her. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
She laughed then, which was unnerving given the tension in the room. "The name's Tonks. Nymphadora Tonks if you must know, and really, I'd rather you didn't. Just call me Tonks. We're cousins, Draco. On your mum's side."
Goodness. She was Andromeda's daughter. Batty Aunt Andromeda who, to her sister Narcissa's everlasting horror, had run off and married a Muggle before their father had had a chance to arrange a respectable marriage for his oldest and most wayward child. Lucius only ever mentioned the woman's name once or twice and Draco recalled that it was always sandwiched between rude words and speculation about 'questionable siring'.
Draco watched, then, with renewed interest as Cousin Tonks stuck two fingers in her mouth, dislodged a piece of toffee from where it was presumably stuck in her teeth, before sucking the sweet back into her mouth again.
Well. Family was family.
"Charmed," said Draco.
"Likewise," Tonks replied. "If we could get back to the matter at hand?" Coon interrupted.
Snape cleared his throat. "Indeed. I believe you promised Mr. Malfoy some answers. You might start with an explanation of how the Mark came to Hogsmeade in the first place."
Coon obliged. "Rest assured, Draco, your father remains securely contained at Malfoy Manor. There was a break-in at a Ministry vault over the weekend. The theft occurred in two evidence bunkers. Among the items stolen were confiscated portkeys, various Dark Magic paraphernalia and a wand." Coon paused. "Your father's wand, to be precise. We believe it was used to cast Mosmorde, which you were unfortunate enough to witness this afternoon."
"What about my family standard?" Draco asked. "Why did that appear in place of the Mark? I can't say it's done wonders for my image…"
Snape rolled his eyes.
Dumbledore stepped in. "I believe Alastor would be the best person to explain that to you, given that the spell is his brainchild."
Coon made a dissenting noise. "Headmaster, with all due respect, that is classified information. The boy is hardly authorized-"
"He will be by the end of this meeting," Dumbledore stated, giving Coon a level look. In any case, I authorize it."
The mild tone was replaced with soft steel. "Arthur? Any objections?"
The Minister shook his head.
Moody looked impatient now. "Flitwick tells me you've a good hand at Charms, so I'm not going to dumb this down for you, boy."
"Appreciated," Draco replied dryly.
"As you know it's next to impossible to make a standard Tracking Charm stick to a person. Good, solid, inanimate objects, things like clothing and possessions, now that's do-able, but it's different with a body." Moody rubbed at his chin. "Doesn't work as well in the wet, you see."
Draco didn't see."The 'wet'?"
"Water, boy. Water. The human body is mostly made up of water. You can't track a turnip with any great accuracy and you can't track a person with the spells we've got at the moment."
"You've worked out some way to track wands, haven't you?" Draco asked, immediately intrigued.
His seventh year advanced charms project had been to write about the potential of magical sensor spells. The topic the class had been asked to focus on was the sensor spells that were used at the Magical Birth Registry, but Moody's concept was similar.
Moody grunted. "It's more a case of us being able to track certain spells on a tagged wand. The eggheads over at Research tell me that some spells have a stronger register than others. They stand out. The more magically complex a spell is, the stronger the signature is. The tag won't work on things like Lumos or Alohomora, but on Unforgivables for example, memory fixing spells, things like-"
"Mosmorde," Draco supplied.
"Yep," Moody nodded. "I volunteered your dad's wand as our prototype, since we figured it'd have an, ah, particularly strong history of potent spell casting. We needed a Marker to test the spell and the Malfoy Family standard seemed the easy choice given it was Lucius' wand we were using. Unfortunately for the person who stole it, the Marker spell was still in place when the wand was taken."
"And you can set whatever Marker you want?" Draco asked.
Moody nodded. "Anything we want." He rubbed his chin. "I was thinking of a great big, red X for Voldemort. With instructions to whomever is in the vicinity to fire at will." He chuckled. Only Tonks managed to grin.
"So someone's going to have to get close enough to Voldemort to tag his wand?" Draco surmised. A rather heavy ball was about to drop, he suspected.
Moody snorted. He shuffled forward to sit on the edge of Dumbledore's desk. "Boy, if any Auror worth their salt managed to get that close to him, we'd try for a hell of a lot more than tagging the bastard's wand. We don't actually need to know who a wand belongs to before we tag it. We just need to get close enough…"
Draco frowned. "I don't understand? You want to tag Voldemort's wand?"
"Given that Voldemort has proven to be continually elusive, we're thinking we might be able to find him through secondary sources," added Coon.
Snape seemed to catch on. The Slytherin Head of House stood so quickly, he made a breeze. "No. Absolutely not! "
"No to what?" Draco asked, starting to stand up too, Snape all but shoved him back into his seat.
"Come now, Professor. I can't be that much different from being the leader of…what was his little group called again? 'The Inquisitorial Squad'?" Coon looked pointedly at Draco. "You took Dolores Umbridge's orders easily enough."
Draco took his que from his obviously furious Head of House. "They were easy orders to take. Terrorising students isn't exactly new to me nor is it particularly difficult. Besides, it was quite clear her reign at Hogwarts was temporary."
"And you don't have any feelings of remorse for your behaviour that final term? I'm told you even accosted fellow students under Umbridge's orders."
Draco smiled sweetly. "Mr Coon, if I did, you're the last person I'd be telling."
Tonks snorted.
"We're not asking you to spy for us, Draco," Arthur Weasley felt he needed to clarified.
"What exactly are you asking me to do then?" Draco retorted.
Nobody seemed to think it odd that Snape was the one to explain. He did so without taking his eyes of Arthur Weasley. "It did seem strange to me that the Minister himself should take time from his busy schedule to be present at what the Auror Unit would classify as a routine questioning." Snape expression was malevolent. "They're not just here to question you about what happened in Hogsmeade, Draco. Based on what I can only assume is one-sided information and out-dated intelligence, they think you're the best person to 'tag' Housemates you suspect as most likely to join with Voldemort."
"Oh," said Draco, at a loss for words. And then quite suddenly, he was angry.
Arthur looked sympathetic. "Young man, I realize that your family's relationship with the Ministry of late has been strained, but we would like to give you an opportunity here."
"To what? Redeem myself?" Draco interrupted, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Save the name Malfoy from further disgrace, you mean?" his eyes narrowed and his voice took on a bitter, quiet note. He stared at Arthur. "Do you think someone might offer your son a similar outlet?"
Arthur was taken completely by surprise at mention of Percy, and for a moment, his expression of concerned authority slipped. He cleared his throat.
"You watch your tongue, boy," Moody growled.
"I really don't think he's being logical about this," Coon muttered to Dumbledore.
The comment raised Snape's eyebrows. "You found Lucius Malfoy contained within the Ministry, in full Death Eater regalia, with eight of the most wanted men in wizarding Britain and after a two month stint in Azkaban, you send him where? Home! Somehow, I doubt it is Draco's judgement you should be questioning."
"Why not ask Potter?" Draco suggested, "he hasn't saved or killed anyone in all of six months. The murder and mayhem scene has been a bit quiet lately. He might jump at the chance to play hero again."
"You dare compare yourself to Harry Potter?" Coon admonished.
"I wouldn't presume to, given the fact that he's got the emotional maturity of a terrapin," Draco snapped. "You'll pardon my saying so, but working for the side of Good and Light hasn't exactly made Harry Potter happy or well adjusted. You Ministry types have a habit of screwing heroes over." Draco might have imagined it, but he thought he noticed Dumbledore's eyes flicker to Snape for the smallest moment.
Coon's face purpled. "You're father wasn't so quick to dismiss a generous gesture from the Ministry!"
That's it, Draco thought, as his fists tightened. He was going to punch the smarmy little toad right in the mouth. Consequences be damned.
"Enough," Dumbledore quietly seethed. His voice was little more than a whisper but it had the intensity and the effect of a thunderbolt.
Arthur Weasley looked pale and unhappy, but his eyes were flinty with determination "I'm sorry Albus, but the others have approved this."
It didn't occur to Draco that Dumbledore might have already rejected the offer on his behalf. It just seemed more like the kind of thing he would have done for Potter.
"And how exactly would you like him to find out the necessary information before using the spell?" Snape sneered, ignoring the heavy look that passed between the Minister and the Headmaster. "Would you have him ask his classmates if they plan on running to Voldemort in the near future?"
"Be our eyes and ears in Slytherin," Coon responded. "That's all we ask. Report any unusual activity in these final days at school and more importantly, during the summer to follow."
Snape was not finished. "Slytherin House, both currently and among our alumni is not what it used to be. It's scattered, divided. Alliances and friendships are tentative, at best. What you want the boy to do is near impossible."
"What do I get in return?" Draco's question was so quietly stated that for a moment, Coon thought he had misheard.
"Your father will be moved to another location to serve out the rest of his sentence, leaving you free to reside at Malfoy Manor. Your original contract with the Ministry stands. Your father will still cede his title to you when you graduate from Hogwarts next week, and you will inherit what your grandfather left you."
Draco looked sceptical. "My father will die before setting foot in Azkaban again, and if I'm not mistaken, he signed an agreement with you to avoid that very fate." "It won't be Azkaban we'll be taking him to" Coon explained. "We're in the process of arranging a secure, comfortable location outside of Britain."
Oh, Lucius was going to love that.
"He'll be allowed access to the most basic magical amenities but I daresay his existence will be vastly improved. I'm sure you'd want the best for your father."
"Oh yes, of course," Draco agreed. "The very best."
There was a very long pause, during which the only sound in the room came from the whirring magical mechanics of Dumbledore's many contraptions.
"Outside of Britain, you say?" Draco finally asked.
Snape was staring at him as if he'd lost his mind.
