The night the headmaster fled Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy returned to the Slytherin common room to find the place in an uproar, everyone chattering about the signs of Dumbledore's departure.
He was not the last of the prefects to come back to the dungeons after chasing DA members through the school. That was Pansy, slinking in and quickly moving to the mirror over the fireplace mantel to reapply her lipstick.
Draco sidled up beside her. "Your shirt's come untucked in the back."
"What? Oh, thanks."
"It's not like you to be disheveled, Pansy."
"Yes, well - special circumstances."
He smirked and spoke close to her ear. "Managed to chase down Ronald, did you?"
She smirked back at him as she finished with her shirttail. "Had to go right into the boys' bathroom to find him. He's worried sick about Potter getting called in front of the Minister again. You know how tender-hearted he is. Needed some cheering up."
Pansy had no sooner looked at Draco than she was laughing at him, dropping a hand on his shoulder.
"What?" Draco demanded, facing the mirror himself now. Nothing looked amiss.
"It's in the back, where you can't see," she said. "Your hair is all mussed like you've been napping."
"Bloody tapestry," he muttered, raking his fingers across his scalp.
"Granger needed cheering up too?"
"Yes, actually," he said, raising his head to catch Graham Montague scowling at him.
As Draco dared to returned his look, Montague seemed to snap with rage, launching himself to his feet and stomping across the rug, his teeth bared as he called, "Oi, Malfoy!"
But just then, the dormitory door opened with a flourish, and Umbridge was suddenly in their midst, Professor Snape at her elbow. There was no need for her to force a cough to get their attention. "Professor Snape, if you please."
Behind her back, he rolled his eyes and unrolled a scroll. "By order of the Ministry of Magic Dolores Jane Umbridge (High Inquisitor) has replaced Albus Dumbledore as Head of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The above in accordance with Educational Decree and so on and so forth…"
Over her shoulder, she cast a peevish glance at him. But she beamed at the assembled Slytherins, as if expecting something. Draco led a round of applause, Montague fuming that he hadn't thought to start it himself.
Umbridge raised her hands to accept the applause and call for silence. "Thank you all. Hogwarts could not have taken this great step forward without the efforts of many of you. But there is still much to be done."
She swept the crowd with her eyes, beckoning Draco forward with one hand. "Mr. Malfoy here managed to intercept a most troubled fellow student this evening. I needn't say his name, but he was one of the previous headmaster's particular favourites and allowed to run roughshod over this institution. Well, no more. We are now poised to help him better himself."
The crowd murmured with the sounds of "Potter - she means Potter."
She nodded. "And to recognize Mr. Malfoy's service to the school, and to inspire you in your own service, he will be heading our newly established Inquisitorial Squad." With a tap of her wand against Draco's chest, a small silver letter I appeared fastened to his robes, over his heart.
Its appearance made him feel sick to his stomach, but he fought to keep smirking as his housemates looked on, some admiringly, some bored, and some, like Montague, furious with jealousy.
"Squad members will have greater accountability to myself, your headmistress. But they will also have greater powers, including the awarding and deducting of house points."
A disbelieving but not unhappy chatter erupted at this announcement. Over the voices of the others, Montague was shouting in protest. "He's the leader? Him? But Professor - "
She rounded on him with bulging eyes and red cheeks, interrupting, snarling, "You will address me as Headmistress."
Montague recoiled, silent.
She blinked, patting her hair. "I will have respect from my Inquisitorial Squad. See you do not forget, Mr. Montague." Her face softened as she bounced her wand against her palm. "Now come forward and receive your squad insignia."
Classes were useless the next day. No one could think or speak of anything but the fact that Dumbledore was gone. There was a great deal of open resentment toward the new headmistress, and she dispatched her Inquisitorial Squad to quell it.
This was why Draco was skulking in the Entrance Hall as students gathered for their lunch break, eavesdropping on conversations, waiting to deduct points. When Potter and Hermione happened by, he took a deep breath, and pounced.
It was awful. Acting out a spat in front of Montague the night before had been rather exciting. But leveling vulgar insults at Hermione in front of her friends as she was about to head into the Great Hall for a sandwich and a glass of milk, innocently holding her book bag in front of herself, as if for protection from him, her brown eyes blinking, figuring out what must be happening and looking sadly resigned it - all of that was dull and dreadful.
As he did it, Draco watched for Montague, wondering if he'd succeeded in telling Umbridge she'd found him under a table in the library after dark snogging Harry Potter's Muggle-born best friend. It was only a matter of time before Umbridge stopped interrupting and snapping and let Montague speak. And then - stars only know what would happen then.
As yet, there was no sign of him.
When classes were finally over, Draco left the castle, heading outside to where there were no students for him to hound. He brushed his thumb across the silver letter I on his robes. Umbridge had placed it there with her wand. He wondered if it let her spy on him, and if it was even possible for him to get the thing off without her permission.
Maybe it didn't matter. Montague would grass him up soon enough and he'd be off the squad - or worse. Whatever else happened, he would risk contacting Hermione now anyway. Even if it was all an act, it felt too terrible to leave things as they had at lunch time. He drew the galleon out of his pocket just as a pair of arms flung themselves around his waist from behind.
"It's only me."
There was Hermione, following him, reaching out for him with kindness and understanding. He didn't deserve it, but he closed his hands over hers and leaned into her backward embrace.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She snuggled into his back. "I know, but thank you for saying so."
"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he said, tapping his fingers against hers with each word.
She laughed and poked her chin into his side, inserting her head beneath his arm. "Not going to turn around and hug me?"
He lifted his arm to make way for her as she circled his body to face him, her eyes now level with his Inquisitorial Squad badge. She touched it with one finger, gingerly, as if it might curse her.
"Careful, I think she may be using it to spy on me," he said, his hands in the small of her back.
She leaned toward it, waving. "Hello, Professor Umbridge," she sang into it like a Muggle lapel microphone.
He laughed rather miserably. "I suppose you may as well tell her before Montague does. But mind you call her headmistress from now on. She's quite fussy about it."
"I will call her no such thing," Hermione said. "And about Montague - well…"
When she didn't finish, Draco held her away from himself, searching her face. "What about Montague? What did he do to you?"
"Nothing, nothing," she hurried. "It's just that he's had a run in with Ronald's other brothers this morning."
Draco groaned. "Of course he has. Ronald didn't jump in, did he? Loyal git - "
"No, there was no need for that. But it seems the twins kept Montague from deducting points from them by tossing him into a broken vanishing cabinet Filch had sitting in the corridor on the first floor. And he hasn't been seen since."
Draco gasped letting go of her. "What is a vanishing cabinet doing in Hogwarts? We're supposed to be safe here and that's an immense security risk. My parents won't allow vanishing cabinets anywhere near our house. It is literally an open door."
Hermione shrugged. "I supposed everyone assumed that since it's broken, it's harmless as a wardrobe."
"But it wouldn't have always been broken," Draco ranted as he paced in front of her. "How could Dumbledore let something like this slip by? Irresponsible, that is. Dangerous."
She huffed. "Maybe not by Dumbledore's reckoning. Remember how he kept a giant, ferocious three-headed dog on the third floor all through our first year?"
He waved it away. "Broken or not, this cabinet is serious. There's hardly anything in this world that wizards and witches can't mend. It might not stay harmless and broken for long."
"Maybe not," she said, catching him by both his hands. "But Dumbledore must know where the vanishing cabinet's mate is, and it must be somewhere safe - somewhere no one with any ill will toward the school could ever find it. That must be it."
He sighed. "Well, I guess we'll know where it leads for certain when Montague turns up again, if he ever does."
She slipped her arms around him again. "Why don't you tell Snape about it? He's Montague's head of house and he'll be able to help. Tell Snape someone left you an anonymous tip that he stumbled into the cabinet."
He snorted. "Hard to bend the truth with my Occlumency teacher." He held her tightly, raising her onto her toes, burying his face in her hair. "Why is nothing straightforward for us, Granger? Everything is some horrible web, all sticky and tangled and full of spiders and venom. Maybe we should be envying Montague for getting out of here."
"Right." She played along, swaying against him. "If you could make that vanishing cabinet take us anywhere, where would it be? I've always thought Australia sounded safe and comfortable. Far. Warm. English-speaking."
He hummed, his closed mouth pressed to her crown as they moved together on the spot, almost dancing. "It's so weird that you only know one language. Quel dommage."
She scoffed. "You're thinking of somewhere posh, aren't you. Like Paris or Prague."
He laughed gently against her hair. "No, I was thinking of sneaking back to your parents' place in town, during the day while they're both at the surgery. No one home but us and the cat. And I'd lie down on the sofa in the lounge and you'd turn on the telly and lie next to me and let me kiss you while we'd pretend to watch a quiz show."
She lifted her chin, inviting him to kiss her now, not cozy at home, but standing on a windy hillside beside a chaotic magic castle. It was their first kiss of the day, the heat of the ones behind the tapestry the night before replaced by something else, so sweet and strong - something they wouldn't speak the name of yet.
When they came apart, she was still smiling, happy to be caught up in his vision of the pair of them going home. "Not just kissing though. I'd finally teach you how to cook. It's not unlike potions. You'd be good at it. Some people even think it's fun."
He raised one eyebrow. "Do you think it's fun?"
"No, I hate it. That's why you have to learn to do it." She'd answered quickly - too quickly.
He raised both his eyebrows, his smile broadening.
She was sputtering. "All I mean is - that is to say - even in this fantasy where we've got a house to ourselves, one of us has to cook and so - "
"So you're teaching me, for future reference," he said. "Granger, did you just propose to me?"
She slapped his chest. "No, I did not."
He gathered her closer, chuckling at her. "It's alright if you did. I'll have to think about it though. You're so young - "
"I didn't say that! No, don't think about it. Stop thinking about it right now." She was laughing through her shouting.
He bent to kiss each of her eyelids. "I will think about it," he said, "but we don't need to talk about it again until much, much later."
She beat her head once against his chest, flinching as Umbridge's silver letter I pinched the skin of her forehead. "Enough," she said. "Let's take this beastly insignia off."
He grabbed her hand. "No, if it's jinxed I'd rather Aunt Bella have to deal with it than you."
Her rosy colour blanched. "You aunt? They haven't called for you again, have they? You have to tell me, Malfoy."
"Not yet." He said. "But they promised they would. And it's been long enough now, I almost wish they would. The longer they leave me here, the more I worry they're finished with me, and they're preparing to call for someone else."
She nodded. "Someone who hasn't been learning Occlumency. Someone Severus Snape might not rush back to the manor to protect with his life."
"Yes," he said. "I've got to keep them focused on me, away from Ronald."
Ever since the war, everyone had known their names, the ones who lived, and the ones who were understood to be dead: James Potter, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. Before the war, Lucius Malfoy had never bothered with them. They were years below him in school, Narcissa's age, coming to Lucius's notice first as tormentors of Severus Snape. Not that they ever dared meddle with Severus in Lucius's presence, the prefect five years older than them.
Now here Lucius was, draped in a plain cloak, dark brown and rough, standing in a March London fog, watching that scarred, shabby Remus Lupin through a plate glass window. Lupin sat in a Muggle cafe, pretending to read a book but glancing up from its pages far too frequently, nervous, like a wolf caught and pacing in a pen.
Severus insisted Lupin was a werewolf - it wasn't just his name. It meant his eyesight would be dim and colourless, but his senses of hearing and smell would be keen. Would he know what a Malfoy smells like? In the gritty London street, full of the Muggles' burning fuel and greasy foods, their roaring engines, Lucius hoped to pass unnoticed. Confrontation was not his aim. Truthfully, he would prefer there were no werewolves at all in Britain, but he meant Lupin no harm. Not today. What he wanted was information, the benefit of Lupin's connection to someone else.
Through the window, Lucius spied Lupin taking something from his pocket. It flashed in his hand, like a mirror catching sunlight, even on this foggy day. Whatever the flash had meant, it had Lupin rising to his feet, leaving Muggle coins on the table for his coffee. As he came to the door, he wrapped his head and neck in an enormous muffler Lucius would not have mistaken for the handiwork of anyone else but Molly Weasley.
Lucius stood at attention, pulling the hood of his cloak more tightly around his face. Lupin crossed the street with metres of him, passing through the black iron gates of a public park. The weather was not at all fine, keeping the greens empty. Lucius followed from a distance, frustrated that this was the third time he'd followed Lupin without learning anything useful about Peter Pettigrew's old school friends.
At the manor, Lucius had interrogated Pettigrew. His story was quite a drama. After Sirius Black's escape from Azkaban, Black had reconciled with Lupin. Pettigrew himself was beyond reconciliation - beyond everything but mortifying subservience to the Dark Lord. He reckoned Black would kill him on sight if ever they met again.
In the park, Lupin was taking a seat on a wet bench, still waiting, but in a different place. Lucius leaned into a sycamore tree and returned to his thoughts.
Pettigrew seemed a bit pissy at the unfairness of Black being free and forgiven, reinstated in the role James Potter had given him as Harry's godfather. At least, Pettigrew assumed he would be godfather again, after the way he and Lupin had been carrying on. Most interesting. Potter had a guardian - a fugitive of a guardian, but someone willing to stand in place of his dead father all the same. He may not be quite as unattached from family life as the Dark Lord suspected.
This was vital. Lucius remembered only too well how the headmaster, without permission from himself or Narcissa, had used Ronald as the treasure for Potter to rescue from the bottom of the Lake during the Triwizard Tournament. When they protested, after the task, Dumbledore had defended it by saying the tournament was harmless. Let him try to tell that to Amos Diggory.
No, Ronald must never be carried off and used to bait Harry Potter ever again. This point was not negotiable, even as Lucius fought to find some way to lure Potter out of the safety of Hogwarts and into the Department of Mysteries, where he could deliver the prophecy. This task was no sporting event. Ronald would be left untouched, and Sirius Black would serve as the lure instead.
Lupin had sunk into a slumped posture as he waited on the bench, but he was straightening up now, watching a large, shaggy black dog, off its leash and unaccompanied, trotting around the end of a hedge. Lucius's pulse thudded. This was the same dog they'd spotted at Kings Cross on the first day of the school term, the one he had sent Draco to taunt Potter about.
Thanks to Pettigrew, it was well-known among the Death Eaters that Sirius Black was an animagus, and that his form was a large, black dog - this dog, the one Lupin was greeting not by whistling or calling, but with a simple nod and, "Hello, chap."
Sirius Black would know what a Malfoy smelled like. He was Narcissa's cousin. Her parents had forbidden her to associate with him much, but it was impossible with the pair of them in the same year at school. She saw him most often when he was bullying Severus, and needed an icy Black family glare to chase him off. Deplorable boy.
Lucius cast a spell to silence his feet and his breath as he crept closer to them. Lupin alone was speaking, insipid talk about how Potter was faring at school. Yes, the Ministry and all its Aurors who weren't busy hunting for Bellatrix and Rodolphus and the rest were watching for Black in the Hogwarts fires. He'd have to receive all news of his godson this way, secondhand.
News of Potter's prospects for his OWL exams was not what Lucius was hoping to overhear. What he wanted to learn was the location of Black's hideout. If he could find it, he could bring Bellatrix and Rodolphus and raid it, drag Sirius Black off, hold him in the Ministry, get word of the abduction to Potter so he would step into a trap as he tried to come to the rescue.
Narcissa suspected Black was hiding at his childhood home, her Uncle Orion and Aunt Walberga's house, the one that miserable House Elf had come from during the holidays. All Narcissa remembered of the place was a marvelous enchanted family tree woven into a tapestry, and that it was in Islington somewhere. They still hadn't found it. It might now be unplottable, as good as disappeared.
Lupin's voice was getting heated as he continued to sit there like a nutter, talking to the black dog. "No, it's not going well at all. He's just not getting it. He's been told it's more important for him than anything right now, but he still isn't making much progress."
Lucius rolled his eyes.
"I honestly don't believe it's Snape's fault," Lupin went on, pausing as if he could understand the dog answering back.
"Yes, of course Snape isn't very nice about it. But that's the point, I'm afraid. Dumbledore has known that all along. There's always an element of hostility in Occlumency. Legilimency is violence, simple as that. If there's no hate or fear involved for a student of Occlumency, have they even learned it?"
Another pause.
"I know - yes. Some of his current students might argue with you about it, but yes, I will agree it's likely no one hates Snape more than you do. Harry will definitely have picked up on that too. But that's your business. You've got to sort it, mate. As for me, for his service to me while I was teaching, I consider myself still in Snape's debt."
The dog yelped at that point.
"Come now, even you must agree that whatever nastiness Snape shows toward Harry during those lessons, it's got to be nothing compared to the wicked poison coming at the poor boy's mind from - well, from the other source."
A hush fell, as if they'd brushed too near something cursed. Shivers rose over Lucius's arms as he leaned closer.
"I can't say," Lupin resumed. "I wish it was someone else teaching Harry too. But it was Narcissa Malfoy herself who taught Snape. There's no one better."
Lucius's blood was rising, his jaw clenched at the mention of his own family.
"How should I know? Fear or hatred between Snape and your cousin? Maybe fear her husband will notice the way Snape looks at her. We know only too well his weakness for married women. Now look what you've done, dragging me down to your level of pettiness. No, I won't speak ill of him. We need Snape, and Dumbledore trusts him completely."
The dog whined and Lupin, for the first time since the meeting started, reached out and scratched at the beast's ears. "No, I don't blame you. Though you really are ridiculous," he chuckled. "I could have come to yours for this chat. You just wanted an excuse to get out for a bit, didn't you?"
The dog dropped its chin on Lupin's knee.
Lupin patted its head. "Come on, I'll walk you as far as the road. You're less alarming to spot in the street when you're with a human - oh, very funny."
Drenched with rain and blue with cold, Lucius apparated into his bedchamber in Malfoy Manor.
Narcissa gasped and sprung to her feet. "Darling, where have you been? And what are you wearing?"
He offered a terse explanation of his afternoon spying in London as she helped him remove his cloak and boots.
"Occlumency," he said. "They're trying to teach Potter Occlumency."
She frowned. "Whatever for? He's hidden away in the castle. Is it because of that Umbridge woman?"
He shook his head. "No, it's more serious. Dumbledore ordered it, and he's well beyond school intrigues now. He's gone off on his own but still says learning Occlumency is the most important task for Potter at this point."
Lucius pulled her against his bare chest to warm himself, and to quiet their voices. "It's him. He may not know it yet, but the Dark Lord's mind is connecting to Potter's. It makes sense. That's how Arthur Weasley was discovered and rescued after the snake bite in the Ministry. Molly refused to tell me how they found him. She would have been protecting Potter. He must have seen it happen through the Dark Lord's eyes."
Narcissa stiffened in his arms. "You spoke to Molly after Arthur's accident?"
"Yes, in the street outside the hospital. She'd nearly lost her husband. She was beside herself with grief."
"Again?"
"Cissa, please," he said.
She hung her head, letting the matter go. "About Potter then…"
"Yes, when I realized I need to lure him to the Department of Mysteries, I assumed I'd have to have someone kidnapped in order to get him there. The Dark Lord would have believed the obvious choice is Ronald. I had been working on bringing Sirius instead. But if Potter has visions of the Dark Lord's mind, we don't need the risk and strain of actually abducting anyone. All we need is the idea, the dream of them needing rescue."
Narcissa threw her arms around Lucius's neck and kicked her feet off the floor, Molly Weasley forgotten for the moment. She kissed his neck and shoulders. "You've done it. You've all but done it, my darling."
He shushed her. "We musn't celebrate yet. Before we tell the Dark Lord, before he lures Potter, we must assure ourselves our own boys won't interfere. Ronald goes running off after Potter at every turn, and Draco goes running off after Ronald - "
There was a sound like a broom colliding with the outside of the bedroom door, followed by a barrage of screeching profanity.
"For stars' sake," Narcissa groaned stepping out of Lucius's embrace. "Just a moment, Bella."
She opened the door and Bellatrix tumbled into the room as Lucius was slipping into a dry shirt. She snorted at the sight of him. "What are the pair of you like? It's half three in the afternoon."
Narcissa tossed her hair, frowning. "If you don't like it, don't come up here. Now what do you want?"
Bellatrix tucked her chin, smiling wickedly. "Just to tell you that Severus…" She picked up a perfume bottle from her sister's dressing table and sniffed at it, humming as if she had no intention of finishing what she'd been saying.
"Severus what, Bella?" Narcissa pressed.
She smirked. "Oh, he's sent something here this afternoon. Something from the school."
Lucius's posture stiffened. "What did he send?
Bellatrix indulged in a low cackle. "Oh, something very pretty."
Narcissa's eyes widened, her mouth twisting with fear.
Bellatrix went on. "Sent by special request of the Dark Lord himself. You see, he wasn't sure he could trust either of you to deliver it. So he asked Severus. And now he has it, downstairs."
Lucius shoved past her, sprinting out the door.
Bellatrix laughed again as she righted herself. "Oh dear."
"What did he send?" Narcissa demanded.
Bellatrix Lestrange sauntered toward her, a mean older sister taunting her junior. "Did I say 'what' he sent? Oh pardon me, Cissie. I meant to say 'who.'"