Malfoy Files Chapter 14
A/N: Hey all I am on the downward side of this story. Things should start moving faster and hopefully wrapping up.
Disclaimer: I own none of what you recognize. Thanks to JKR for her world.
I stumbled from the restricted Floo into a small stone room. The memories I had been dreading came flooding back. I remembered that sixteen-year-old boy who had idolized his father. I had never seen my father cry or beg until my mother and I visited him there. That day I saw him do both. That was also the day I realized that my father was human. After the war my mother, father, and myself were detained there as well, awaiting our trial. The dementors were gone by then, but their presence had been absorbed into the rock itself.
"You okay?" Phillips asked, stumbling in behind me.
"I will be," I lied. "Let's get this over with."
We were met at the door by a huge man with a neck the size of a bull. "You'll have to check your wands," he said in a soft voice. He struck me as the kind of person who never needed to shout. We handed our wands to him and he placed them into a small stone box, locked it with his wand, and slid the box in to a hole in the wall. "I have to check you," he said, not asking for permission. He passed his wand over both of us and nodded. "Follow me."
We followed bullneck down a hallway into another stone room. The room was painted stark white and had several stone benches around a slab table. "He'll be here in a moment," bullneck said and left the room.
The lock clicked behind him. I was again reminded of the last time I was in one of these rooms and heard that sound. Phillips and I sat in silence; him looking over a folder of papers he brought and me lost in the horror of my memories.
I was brought out of the past by the sound of the lock clicking again. Rabastan Lestrange looked like a withered husk of what he once was. The last time I saw him he was a tall, regal-looking man staring defiantly at the Wizengamot as they sentenced him to the rest of his life in Azkaban. The man in front of me was broken and defeated. The guard sat him at the table; it was then I noticed the collar around his neck. Lestrange caught me looking at the device and smiled, showing a mouth full of broken, yellow and black teeth.
"If I try to cast magic it will cut my throat," he said, tapping the collar, his voice rusty and cracked from lack of use.
"Rabastan Lestrange," Phillips started. "I have been empowered to give you certain considerations if you cooperate with us and your information proves useful."
Lestrange looked at me the whole time Phillips was talking. "You're Lucius' boy aren't you?" he asked.
I nodded. "I am Draco Malfoy."
"I remember you," he said, scratching his wild beard. "You're the one who failed the Dark Lord." He laughed a hollow laugh without humor. "At least you were better than your sister."
It was then that I realized that Lestrange was quite insane. I never had a sister and now that my father was dead, never would.
Phillips spoke up. "We want to know everything you can tell us about Sanguimancy, and this." He handed a copy of the prophecy to Lestrange. "Near as we can tell it's a prophecy of some kind," Phillips said, leaning forward.
Lestrange read the parchment and smiled, his cracked and broken teeth again showing. "This is more than a prophecy. Oh yes, so much more. It is a map."
"To what?" I couldn't resist asking.
"It leads to death," he said, pausing. "The death of Magic."
"What the hell does that mean?" Phillips asked, losing his patience.
"We always thought it was a myth; those few of us who dared dabble in the Blood Magic, that is. It combines the magics of rituals, potions and divinations to create a weapon."
"A weapon for what?" Phillips asked.
"Think, Auror, what would fanatical monks, who had just discovered magic exists, try and do?" Lestrange spat out.
"They would try and destroy it," I answered for him.
"Exactly." Lestrange cackled.
"But why would anyone, in today's magical world, try and destroy magic?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
"You, being a Malfoy should have keen insight into the reasons one may wish magic destroyed. Ask your parents about Carinae," Lestrange said.
"Who the hell is that?" I demanded.
"Ask Lucius. I have said all that I will and all that you can make me say," Lestrange said, seeming suddenly calm.
"We will see about that," Phillips said, standing up. "A little Veritaserum should help."
I looked at Lestrange and he smiled his broken smile and mouthed the word "Silencio." His throat was immediately sliced open by the collar and his blood sprayed across the table hitting both of us. One look at Lestrange and it was obviously too late.
Phillips filled out the required paperwork in silence; we retrieved our wands and left through the Floo. We returned to my office where we were met by Gertie with horror and concern.
"I guess I should just be glad it's not yours," Gertie said to me while casting a couple of cleaning charms on both mine and Phillips' clothes.
"Hey, how can you be mad at me?" I protested. "I didn't do anything."
"This time," Gertie said, walking from my office to the front room.
Phillips sat in one of my client chairs and looked at me. "What was all that talk about Carinae?" he asked.
"I have no bloody clue," I answered. "But I know who might."
"And who's that?"
"Lestrange told me to ask my parents. My father is being entirely unhelpful in his death. I think I might try my mother."
-ooo-
Phillips left my office needing to file more paperwork and explain to his superiors exactly what happened. I didn't envy the Auror. He would probably get his ass chewed out pretty good for me even being anywhere near his investigation.
I arrived at the manor and told the house elf I wanted to speak with my mother. I walked into the lavish sitting room and waited for my mother's arrival.
My mother swept into the room. She was wearing golden and purple robes. She still commanding a lot of the grace and beauty she had once been known for. She walked to me and kissed me on my cheek.
"Draco, it is so good to see you," she said, sitting in a chair next to me. "We haven't seen much of each other since the unpleasantness." Leave it to my mother to describe the gristly murder and mutilation of her husband in that manner.
"Hello, Mother. I'm afraid this is not a social call. I am working on Father's death and a name came up in relation to you and Father," I paused making sure I had her full attention. "What does the name Carinae mean to you?"
My mother blinked and for just a moment I saw panic in her eyes. "I don't believe I have ever heard that name, why do you ask?"
"Mother." I sighed, trying not to lose my patience, "I have it on good authority that you do, indeed, know that name. This may help me find out why Father and, not coincidentally, a very good friend of mine was killed. If you know anything, and judging by your reaction a moment ago you do, you have to tell me."
My mother's face grew dark and her eyes became clouded. "This is your father's fault, all of this," she spat out with a wave of anger and contempt I didn't know she could harbor for my father. My mother sighed and her shoulders slumped. She looked decidedly older all of a sudden. "Your father and I were married as soon as I left Hogwarts. I was only eighteen when I became pregnant. This child was a beautiful baby girl. I loved that girl and doted on her." Mother's eyes grew even darker. "Your father, however, was not satisfied." My mother's face twisted in a sneer I had seen my father wear so many times. "The Malfoy line required an heir. You were born seven years later. We were happy, the three of us, until the day your father had you and your sister tested. She was deemed to be a squib."
I looked at my mother in shock; she was actually crying. The woman who had braved Azkaban and never had a hair out of place was crying.
"Your father was ashamed, and your sister was sent away. I used what influence I could with your father's contacts and had her adopted at age seven by a wealthy Muggle family. He acquired the services of a very skilled Obliviator to tamper with your's and your sister's memories. Neither of you would remember each other. I was devastated but had no choice. I devoted what love I had left to you." My mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief she summoned. "Draco, giving up that child is my greatest regret. That child, in keeping with Black tradition, was named Carinae."
We sat together in silence for a long time. Finally I cleared my throat and spoke. "Mother, who adopted the gir... my sister?" The words felt strange yet somehow right to say.
"I don't know. All I know is I made your father swear an Unbreakable Vow that she would never want for anything and would be adopted by those who could care for her. I wanted only the best for her."
"Well, that certainly didn't work out did it?" I said flatly. "Who did the obliviation? I need to get it reversed."
My mother shook her head. "You can't, it's too late. The person who did it for us can't reverse it now and it's too dangerous for someone else to try."
"Why can't the person who took the memories just put them back?"
"It was Gilderoy Lockhart," my mother said, sounding defeated.
"Well, that just fucking figures." I suddenly felt a dam break in my chest, and all the anger and frustration that had been building for weeks flooded out of me.
I stood from the chair, picked it up, and shattered it up against the stone hearth of the fireplace. I ranted and fumed incoherently. After a good ten minutes of covering all topics ranging from my failing marriage to my sociopathic father to the current state of this case, I dropped onto a sofa and sighed.
"Do you feel better?" my mother, who had been sitting quietly watching my temper tantrum, asked.
"Not really, but I don't feel any worse either," I said, leaning on the arm of the sofa with my head propped up on one hand. "You know, this Carinae person may have been responsible for Father's death."
"How did you come to that conclusion?"
"Whoever killed Father may be trying to do something to destroy magic. Can you think of anyone who would want to destroy magic more than a spurned squib?" I asked.
"But she can't have gained back her memories. It's not possible, is it?" My mother's face showed hope.
"I don't know, but it sure seems like a possibility." I stood up and smoothed out my clothes.
"What are you going to do now?" my mother asked.
"What I always do." I smirked. "I am gonna poke around in something I have no business being in until I piss someone off enough for them to make a move."
"Draco, please be careful. If this person is the one who killed your father, squib or not, she has proved herself to be quite impressive and most dangerous." I could almost swear my mother let a moment of pride show in her eyes.
"Don't worry, Mother. This case is such a cock-up I seriously don't think it could get any worse."
I couldn't believe I just let those words come out of my mouth. Yep, I just confirmed again that Gertie was right; I am a bloody fool.