Chapter 38

When Sirius Black had emerged in battle at Diagon Alley, hell had broken loose. Aurors had attempted to fling spells at him. Death Eaters had turned their wands toward him. If it had been chaos before his appearance, then witnesses weren't sure what words could be used to describe the scene after. James Potter, as head of the Aurors, had managed to force his men to return their fire to the Death Eaters. After nearly twenty years fighting along side them, Sirius had been able to anticipate the spell patterns sent from his former comrades. He had escaped the battle only to walk head first into public scrutiny.

He hadn't cared. Sirius welcomed the accusations and hate. The opinions of the general public meant nothing to him. He concerned himself only with his family and friends. It had taken intense arguing and debate to convince the Minister and the courts to not immediately throw Sirius into jail. Sirius had scoffed at the idea. He would have found a way out.

Dumbledore was a very influential man. He, along with James Potter and Alastor Moody, had fought diligently for Sirius's case. It had taken weeks of intense deliberation before the courts had agreed to accept the plea of innocence due to the memory wipe and subsequent brainwashing.

Perhaps in some other time or life Sirius would have liked to return to the Aurors. But he had been his own man for too long. He'd been second in command of the Dark Lord's armies, answering only to Lord Voldemort himself, for two decades. He had done the Dark Lord's orders as he had seen fit. He had formulated the plans. Although James was his friend and Sirius respected him, he just couldn't enter into a program where there were too many above him in the chain of command. In the Order, Sirius stood in equal standing with James. Only Dumbledore had authority over him, and Sirius barely listened to the old man anyway. He just wasn't capable of following orders as he might have once been.

Most of the wizarding population was calling for his head on a platter. Those with the authority to bring about such an end had been forced to grudgingly accept Dumbledore's terms. The head figures in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, namely James and Mad-Eye, had shown how the vast amounts of knowledge Sirius could bring to their side were highly valuable. Of course, that did nothing to ease the minds of the families that had been ripped apart by the General.

"So, he thinks that he can turn against me," Voldemort said lowly, his eyes skimming the headlines of a recent Daily Prophet. Ever since his appearance in battle some weeks ago, Sirius Black had taken over the headlines, topping even the Dark Lord. Well, Voldemort supposed, it was a delightful scandal, at least from the eyes of those insufferable reporters. The Skeeter woman had probably gone into cardiac arrest when she heard the news.

Whatever the other wizards of Britain thought was inconsequential. To Lord Voldemort, Sirius Black was a traitor, never mind that he had not joined the Dark Lord's army under his own free will. And Lord Voldemort had no patience for traitors.

"Lucius."

"My lord," the man came forward, bowing deeply.

Voldemort threw down the paper at Lucius's feet. "I want him dead," he said evenly. "Sooner rather than later."

He could see Lucius tense, but the blond man said, "As you wish, my lord."

"Do not fail me."

Lucius Malfoy retreated from the Dark Lord's private chambers, bowing as was appropriate. As soon as the door shut behind him, he began to chew worriedly on his bottom lip. It was a highly unbecoming mannerism, one that he would have normally never indulged in. But this was a most disturbing mission. He was to kill Sirius Black. Twenty years ago, Lucius would have done so without so much as a flinch, but it was different now. Sirius had been on Lucius's side of the war for twenty years. Sirius was family. They had become friends. Obviously, Lucius had not shared all of his personal secrets with Sirius, otherwise Sirius would have known the exact occurrences that had led him to hold the title of General. But they had trusted each other. They had been comrades.

Narcissa would not like this news, Lucius knew that in an instant. She had not even liked the methods used to bring Sirius into the Dark Lord's army, despite her pleasure at her family reuniting (Andromeda's offense had been too great to bring her back, and thus she was never mentioned). And with Harry in hiding with Sirius, Draco too would be displeased.

Lucius loathed his new assignment, but he knew the consequences of failure. If he was not killed himself, then it would be his wife and son. Lucius well remembered the fate that had befallen Adrienne simply because she could not present the Dark Lord a possible location as to her missing children. Lucius would not allow such a thing to happen to Narcissa and Draco. He loved his family, and it was for their sake alone that he had not abandoned the Dark Lord years ago. Abandonment was death.

This would take careful planning. Sirius was a very formidable foe. And he knew Lucius's fighting style. Lucius could hold his own against Sirius, that much he knew. But Sirius now remembered his life before his brainwashing and retraining by Bellatrix. He had fought differently back then. Lucius did not remember it, but Sirius would easily be able to call upon his old skills. He would have to be on very careful guard. James Potter had taken to shadowing Sirius ever since he had returned to battle. Lucius would have to contend with the blood traitor as well.

When Lucius appeared in the expensively decorated parlor of his old family home, Narcissa was seated on one of the couches, a cup of tea before her and a fine needlepoint project scattered about. She looked up at him and instantly knew that something was terribly wrong. She frowned, and Lucius knew that she was fighting the impulse to tug at the ends of her hair. It was a nervous habit that a lady of her esteemed upbringing should not have, after all.

Lucius did not beat around the bush with his wife. "He wants Sirius dead," he said.

Narcissa stood sharply, her knees hitting the table and shaking the fine china. The tea did not spill. "No," she demanded.

"Narcissa," Lucius began, trying to convey to her his sincere apology.

"No," she snapped. "We can't let this happen. He is our cousin."

"I know that," Lucius said, running a hand over the top of his head. "Believe me, I hold little more enthusiasm for the situation than you. But what can we do?"

Narcissa began to pace up and down the parlor, her brow drawn down and a frown of deep thought constricting her lips. Lucius shook his head. "That was a rhetorical question, love. There is nothing that can be done. We—we have to do this."

Narcissa ignored him, her pacing becoming more intense.

"You know as well as I that there is nothing that we can say or do to sway the Dark Lord's decision. He sees Sirius as a traitor and his stance on traitors has always been made clear." Lucius sighed, his heart feeling very heavy. "I never imagined it would come to this. When we first captured him, I never thought that I would accept him as my cousin, nor did I think he would accept me. He became my friend, but as much as I love him—and the kids—I have to kill him."

Narcissa had stopped in mid-step, and when she lifted her head, her eyes were swimming with tears. Lucius moved quickly across the room to draw her into a tight embrace. She clung to him. Neither could speak any more, for there was nothing to say. They didn't like anything about this situation, but they knew that Sirius would have to be killed. They couldn't stand by and allow him to escape. The Dark Lord would not be so forgiving. Draco's life hung in the balance, and neither Malfoy was as reckless as Sirius had been, even as a Death Eater.

"How will you get to him," Narcissa asked some moments later. "He is heavily guarded."

Lucius chose his words carefully. "It might be more prudent to find him away from battle," he started. But Narcissa immediately caught his meaning.

"I refuse," she said shrilly. "I will not draw him into a trap. I can't, I simply can't!"

"It could be the only way," Lucius said. "He might not suspect ill intentions."

"I can hardly believe that," Narcissa snapped hatefully. "Those blood traitors will have begun to fill his head with poisons again. They will have turned him against us by now." Lucius tactfully did not mention that with his rightful memories, Sirius would have begun to hate them again all on his own. "In battle is the only way, Lucius. I will have no part of this." She slipped from his arms and walked out of the room too quickly to feign her acceptance of her cousin's fate.

Narcissa did not join her husband and son for dinner that night. After sending up a plate of food with a house elf, Lucius turned to Draco. Just as Sirius had always been with Harry and Atria, Lucius did not sugar coat things with his son, especially now considering Draco's age. "The Dark Lord is displeased with the turn of events involving Sirius," he said. Draco only nodded, his jaw tight. "I have been placed in charge of dealing with Sirius as is fit with traitors."

Draco's lips were pressed into a thin line. Again he nodded. "Things are becoming more and more dangerous. The loss of Sirius will greatly affect your mother. She was quite close to him. They have always been as siblings." He noticed that Draco's eyes narrowed just slightly, but he did not ask his son to voice his thoughts. "She would not be able to handle anything happening to you in such close proximity."

"And what would you have me do," Draco asked. "Ignore when the Dark Lord sends me to battle?"

"No," Lucius said immediately. That would have been suicide. "Do your duty. Go into battle, but immediately find a safe place to hide. Shoot spells where you can, but you must not come into harm's way."

Draco's frown became indignant. "Is that not cowardice?"

"Your mother could not stand to lose her only child," Lucius said again, leaving Draco to call it as he felt necessary.

Things did not go as planned. Lucius had failed to kill Sirius during an ambush in the heart of Muggle London. The Dark Lord was furious. Draco held onto his mother, who was hardly able to stand on her own power for all her sobbing, as he watched the Dark Lord send curse after curse upon his father. Lucius had long since stopped moving. Even his aunt Bellatrix, who was no true fan of his father and usually delighted in such displays, was standing tight lipped at her master's right side.

"Please, leave him alone," Narcissa begged. Draco pushed his mother further behind him, terrified that her cries would remind the Dark Lord of her presence, and that she would be next. Bellatrix frowned sharply at him, silently demanding that he silence her younger sister.

When the Dark Lord finally stilled his wand, Draco felt ill. Blood was seeping from several large gashes on Lucius's face. Dark bruises had already formed, and there were angry burns. Draco couldn't tell if he was breathing. The Dark Lord looked up, and Draco felt all the blood leave his face when the long wand pointed at them. "Narcissa," he said, and he shot his spell.

Draco did not move, expecting his body to shield his mother, but the Dark Lord's aim was true, and he managed to hit Narcissa's exposed arm. She screamed as the fabric of her sleeve gave way to the cursed fire and her arm was burned. The Dark Lord pulled back his spell, opting now for the Cruciatus Curse. Narcissa withered on the floor. Draco knew that he was screaming, but all he could hear was his mother's cries. When the Dark Lord finally released her, Draco gathered his mother into his arms. She was shaking badly. "Stand, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said, his rage still very evident in his voice.

Draco pulled his mother to her feet, keeping a tight hold of her. "Draw your wand, Narcissa," the Dark Lord said, "and turn the Cruciatus Curse on your son."

Narcissa's knees gave out, and Draco almost dropped her. She stammered a few times before finally finding her voice. "My-my lord, please, p-please no," she begged.

"Do as I command!"

"My son, please not my son!" She tried to throw herself on the ground at the Dark Lord's feet, but Draco kept her up.

"Mother, just do it," Draco hissed through his teeth. Narcissa began to thrash.

"Perform the curse, or I will kill him," the Dark Lord said, his voice low, but it carried over Narcissa's cries. Narcissa was sobbing too violently to attempt to draw her wand.

The Dark Lord's face began to contort with anger again, but before he lifted his wand, Bellatrix moved forward. "My lord," she said, her voice steady. She did not speak further until he turned to look at her. "The boy's blood is of the highest quality, both Black and Malfoy. They are families nearly as old and great as your noble Slytherin blood. Is this asset not too great to lose?"

"Have you become so sentimental, Bella," the Dark Lord asked. "Would you not have Lucius truly pay for his failures?"

Bellatrix did not flinch. "Let me punish Draco, my lord. When I am done, no Malfoy will dare disobey you again."

And the Dark Lord smiled, a twisted form of affection in his eyes as he gazed upon his most devoted and loyal servant. "Make them suffer, Bella," he said, taking a step back to give her a clear shot.

"Release your mother," Bellatrix said as she pointed her wand at Draco. He obeyed immediately and steeled himself for the pain that was to come. Nothing about this would be easy. Bellatrix would beat him hard for his father's failure to capture Sirius Black. She would beat him hard so that the Dark Lord would not beat him harder.

It was several hours later that the entire episode was over. The Dark Lord departed from the manor immediately after calling Bellatrix off her nephew. Narcissa had collapsed in a dead faint at some point during the torture, Draco didn't know exactly when. It had been some time before he had been able to pull himself off the ground. A glance told him that his mother was still in as good a health as could be expected. It had taken great effort to drag himself over the floor to his father. Draco had nearly cried with relief to see him still breathing. He crawled over to the fireplace and pulled himself up to reach the jar of Floo powder. He sent in an urgent call to the family healer. The elderly man burst through the fireplace in time to see Draco falling to the floor.

Draco directed him first to his father and mother. The healer conjured stretchers and levitated the Malfoys upstairs, following the portraits' directions to their bedroom. Narcissa came down into the parlor some minutes later. Her injuries were the least serious of the three. She cried as she helped Draco upstairs. The healer did all that he could for Lucius, stating that the effects of his recent punishment would take some time to heal, even with constant magical treatment.

Draco was given a few potions for the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. One stilled his hands and helped to ease the tension in his muscles. Another calmed the sharp pains to dull aches. Sometime after the healer had left, leaving instructions with Draco as to the continued caring of his father, Draco sat in a chair and watched his mother, who was sitting by Lucius on the bed, holding his hand and muttering calming words as tears poured from her eyes. Draco's eyes narrowed and he stood. His mother did not notice him slipping from the room.

The rational part of Draco's brain was screaming at him, calling him a fool and demanded him to either return to his mother's watch over his father or to retire to his own rooms. But Draco was acting solely on his emotions and instincts. And his instincts were demanding that something be done about the treatment of his parents.

Draco slipped into his father's office on the second floor of the manor. He locked the door behind him and muttered several spells to hide his presence in the room, but he was not truly expecting anyone to happen by. There were no portraits in the room to see him. Draco hardly dared to breathe as he walked to the other side of the room, where a large bookcase took up the entire wall. Many of the shelves were filled with books, but some had artifacts and other valuable decorations. Draco's eyes locked onto a small golden cup, upon which the crest of Helga Hufflepuff was emblazoned.

The Dark Lord had brought this cup to the manor many years ago. Draco had still been a child. He remembered listening outside the door with Harry as the Dark Lord told his father of the great importance of the cup. It was a dear treasure to him and must always be kept safe. Several charms and spells had been placed on and around the cup to prevent theft. Draco couldn't remember all of them. He raised his wand and took care of anything obvious that came to mind.

He regarded the cup again. There were more spells protecting it, he knew, but he couldn't be sure what they were until he saw what happened. He steeled himself and reached out a hand to touch it. The metal burned the flesh of his fingers. Draco hissed and cursed. He didn't know the counter-curse, so he ripped away at the bottom of his cloak. Using the fabric to protect his hand, he took hold of the cup and was pleased when it did not burn. Triumph flashed in his eyes when he lifted the cup from the shelf. Nothing else altered him to broken wards, so he wrapped the cup tightly in the fabric and slipped it into his pocket. He carefully replicated the cup and stole up to his rooms.

Draco's hands shook as he pulled out a piece of parchment and scribbled a note. He waved his wand, a spell he had learned from his uncle Sirius to keep family business secret from prying eyes, and placed the letter into an envelope. He did not address it, but said to his owl, "Bring it to Harry. He's at Hogwarts. I need an immediate reply. Peck his eyes out if you must." The owl took the letter in his beak and flew out the window.

Draco spent half the night pacing up and down his rooms. The rational part of his brain knew that it would take time for his owl to fly to Hogwarts and back with a reply, but he didn't want to consider that. When the owl finally came back, Draco scrambled over the table and couch of his private sitting room to get to the window. He ripped open the letter and, placing the tip of his wand to the parchment, muttered the password he and Harry had agreed upon at their last meeting.

From where his wand rested, ink began to spill over the page in Harry's handwriting.

Draco,

I'm going to get into endless trouble with Father for sneaking out.

Meet me at the place from before at mid-day.

Harry

Draco threw the letter into the fire. He changed from his bloodied and ripped clothes and went to check on his mother. She had fallen asleep and was draped awkwardly over his father's chest. Draco carefully shook her awake and led her to the other side of the bed. He instructed her to get under the covers and get some sleep. She was out in seconds. Draco sent a worried gaze over his father, still unconscious, before leaving the room. He left instructions with the house elves to be ready with food and drink for his parents. Using the parlor fireplace, he accessed the Floo Network and went to Diagon Alley.

Harry had snuck out of Hogwarts before daybreak. An owl had arrived from Draco in the early hours of the morning. Draco's words had been urgent, and Harry had been easily convinced to leave the castle without his father's permission. His reply to Draco had suggested meeting around noon. There would be more people out and about and thus their presence would be less noticeable. The Muggle bar was something that no respectable pureblood would ever enter, and so Harry felt confident they would not be discovered. Harry had worn his most casual suit out. Hermione had once told him that his usual suits were highly out of style in the Muggle world, which would have drawn attention. He hoped Draco would have come to the same conclusions.

Because he had left so early, Harry had several hours to kill before meeting up with his cousin. He wandered the Muggle streets, attempting with little success to keep a sneer from his face at all the filthy Muggles. Hermione would have been very displeased with him.

About a half hour until noon, Harry turned in his tracks and headed back down the street to the bar. The bar was full of business during the lunch hour. Harry took a seat at a booth and ordered a pint of mead when the waitress came up. He had taken a handful of Muggle money from Hermione's purse before leaving. He couldn't make any sense of the bills, but if all else failed, he could always Confund the woman.

He sipped slowly on the drink while waiting for Draco. His eyes were locked onto the doorway. People walked in and out. Groups of men on break from work. Pairs of women looking to loosen up before returning to whatever meaningless occupation. A woman with several shopping bags. An elderly man with his young grandson. A young man who was a friend of an employee.

One man who walked in was wearing mostly black. A jacket was over his turtleneck sweater, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets. There was an odd Muggle hat pulled low over his face, hiding all of his features except for his very light hair. Harry sat up a little straighter. It was Draco, but Harry had never known Draco to own such Muggle looking clothing.

Draco slipped into the booth opposite Harry. Neither said anything until the waitress, who had appeared to take Draco's order, disappeared. "You seemed urgent enough," Harry said. He frowned. Draco hadn't yet removed his hat, and his gaze was down to prevent Harry from seeing his face. "What's wrong?"

The waitress reappeared with a pint. She spared one odd glance at Draco before walking away. Harry made a mental note to make sure to Confund her before leaving, the Muggle money issue now irrelevant. "Draco, look at me," he said lowly. But when his cousin met his eyes, Harry was unprepared for the sight.

One of Draco's eyes was a dark purple, swollen so badly that it was completely closed. His lips had two large, dark scabs from where they had broken and bled. His hair was in disarray under the hat, and his face was drawn, the skin looking simultaneously too tight and too loose. Although he could not see them, Harry was sure his cousin was covered in bruises and other injuries. Draco winced as he reached for his glass. "What happened," Harry asked, his voice unable to rise above a whisper.

"The—the Dark Lord was displeased with our failure to recapture Sirius Black," Draco said. Harry sensed that Draco would have liked to shoot him a humorless smile.

"What did he do?"

"The usual," Draco said, his words suggesting something casual, but his tone alluding to something very dark indeed. "He's more furious with Father than with rest of us. He hit Mother a few times with the Cruciatus Curse, and then gave her the choice to either watch me die or to perform the curse on me." Draco's lips twisted, and the one eye that Harry could see darkened to a shade that was nearly black. "So that went on for a while, and then he left. He'd already dealt with Father."

Harry winced. "Is Lucius—?"

Draco shook his head. "As mad as he is, the Dark Lord can't afford to lose someone as high ranking as Father, not with Sirius gone. But, of course, that doesn't mean he won't beat Father within a literal inch of his life," he added bitterly. Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes hard and focused.

Draco had never been rebellious. He was a fine example of what a Malfoy—and a Black—was supposed to be. Sure, when they had been children he had not been above whining to his parents to get his way, and he and Harry had been scolded far more than fifty times for flying in the hallways and playing juvenile tricks on their relatives, but Draco had never rebelled, certainly not in the ways Harry had. But Harry had never seen his cousin look so defiant before.

Draco reached into his pocket, withdrawing something from inside. Even as he held it out, Harry could not be sure what the object was, for it was wrapped tightly and carefully in a thick, dark cloth. Draco's hard, defiant stare was fixed on Harry. "I don't know what this is exactly, but I do know that the Dark Lord values it greatly." He shrugged the sleeve of his jacket over one of his hands and used it to peel away the cloth, exposing a small, bright golden cup underneath. And upon that cup, Harry could plainly see the crest of Helga Hufflepuff.

"Why does he value it," Harry asked, hardly able to imagine the Dark Lord as a collector of old trinkets.

Draco shrugged, wincing at the action. "He gave it to my father when we were young. Do you remember that? We almost got caught eavesdropping?" After a moment, Harry nodded. After that day, he'd never given the incident a second thought. Draco's face was hard and his jaw tight. "Whatever its real purpose, the Dark Lord greatly values this object. Maybe Sirius knows why that is. He was the general, after all."

Draco wrapped the cup up securely and handed it to Harry. "I'll make sure Father gets it." He frowned. "You could get in a lot of trouble if he finds out about this."

Draco smiled, but it was humorless. "I'm willing to take that chance. I can't sit by and watch him treat my parents like that and all because his plan backfired. Malfoys are not pushovers."

Harry offered him a shaky smile. "Draco, you've got to come back with me this time."

"No," Draco said immediately.

"You have to," Harry insisted. "Look at what happened. He could do it again and you might not survive."

"When you disappeared, he killed Adrienne. I won't let that happen to my parents," Draco said evenly.

"Then go back to the manor and bring them with you," Harry said. "Father will offer them protection."

Draco shook his head. "We can't do that. It would be too conspicuous if we disappear. In the very least, he might kill Aunt Bella as punishment."

Harry arched a brow. "He's never threatened Aunt Bella like that before, not seriously."

Draco snapped, "I'm not going to take chances like you did. You're as reckless as Sirius. I can't do that. There is far too much to lose. You saw his anger when Sirius was captured. When you and Atria disappeared, well, you had to have read about the damages in the Prophet." Harry nodded tightly. "If we were then to also betray him, I can't imagine what he'll do. There is too much at risk."

Harry drew in a deep breath, and the cup seemed very heavy in his pocket. After a long moment, he nodded. "Go home, but be careful. I'll ask Father if there can be anything done to offer your family some form of protection. He and your parents were always close."

"You think he'll still feel that way even after knowing what they did to him," Draco asked.

Harry nodded. "You should have seen his anger at the old blood traitor when Uncle Regulus died." They did not remain at the bar much longer. When the waitress came back with their check, Harry discretely Confunded her and left the Muggle money on he table. Harry put a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder before they parted ways.

When Harry slipped back into the Blacks' suite, he was immediately bombarded with screams from Sirius, Atria, and Hermione. "Where in the hell have you been, boy?"

"We've been so worried!"

"You aren't supposed to leave the castle, you foolish child. What if someone had seen you?"

"You could have at least left a note."

"Atria, go to your room," Harry said. His sister protested strongly until Sirius waved her off.

After her door had clicked shut, Sirius asked, "Where did you go?"

Harry reached into his pocket and withdrew the Dark Lord's treasure. He pulled back the thick fabric to reveal to Sirius and Hermione the crest. Hermione stared at it in confusion, but Harry noticed Sirius tense, his eyes almost greedy. "I don't know the purpose, but this belongs to the Dark Lord."

"It has the crest of Hufflepuff on it," Hermione said. "What would he want with that?" They both looked to Sirius for answers as he reached forward and took the cup from Harry. His frown was very deep.

"How did you get this?"

"Draco brought it to me," Harry answered. Sirius demanded an explanation, and Harry gave it. Hermione pressed her hands to her mouth, appalled at the treatment that had been given to the Malfoys. Sirius's frown had, if possible, deepened. "Father, we have to do something to help them."

"And what do you suggest," Sirius asked. "Draco said he would not leave. And I know Lucius well. His decision would be the same. Narcissa goes where her husband and son go."

"They are our family," Harry insisted. "We have to do something. Anything!"

"There is little that can be done, if they are not willing to walk away from the Dark Lord," Sirius said, wrapping the cup securely and placing it in the pockets of his robes.

"Find something," Harry demanded. "If I must, I'll talk to Dumbledore. I'll-I'll join the Order."

Hermione gasped, and Sirius stared down impassively. "Do you realize what you're saying," he asked, his voice low. "If you join, you offer yourself to the services of Dumbledore and this side of the war. You admit your importance as the Chosen One. You accept your duty to defeat the Dark Lord."

Harry's fists clenched, and his eyes darted over to Hermione. Her eyes were tearing up. Harry brought his gaze back to his father. "Too many of the people I love have been threatened by the Dark Lord. If I am the one that must stop it, then so be it. I'll join."

A moment later, Sirius nodded. "Stay here," he commanded, and he left the room quickly. Harry reached over to Hermione and drew her into a tight embrace. She was shaking. They sat on the couch and waited for Sirius to return from his discussion with Albus Dumbledore.