Chapter 18:
Author's note: Hi guys! I'm finally back, after my long and terrible absence. I have to apologize quite deeply for that. Here's a short chapter to whet your appetite while I'm working on the next one, and I promise, it won't take me this long next time! Again, many apologies, and I hope you like this.
Disclaimer: Hail J.K. Rowling, the rightful creator of Harry Potter! You know what my mental image of Warner Bros. is? Peter Pettigrew. It was so nice of Jo to provide us with a perfect picture of cowardice and disgust. Thank you, Jo!
Ghosts on the Doorstep
While dusk was settling rapidly into night, Draco, Ron, and Hermione were settling into their temporary bodies. They stepped up to the front porch of Wormtail's house, all three feeling ill and uncomfortable. With a courageous sigh and a tighter grip on the wand in his left pocket, Draco declared, "I'll take charge from here."
Ron and Hermione gave each other a look that clearly said why not? We might as well. Draco seemed to notice this, and continued:
"Follow my orders while we're in the house. That way we will be able to stay on the same game plan, thus making it easier for us to deceive him."
It was quite strange to see and hear these words coming from Lucius Malfoy's thin lips. But they made sense, so Ron in Crabbe's body and Hermione in Goyle's nodded in agreement to what he said.
Draco took a look at the house for a moment. It was run-down, decrepit, dark, and dusty. The windows looked like they had never been cleaned, nor the lawn managed in any way.The trees were all dead, the tall grass and bushes overgrown, and the light coming from inside was dim and depressing. A bronze knocker sat in the middle of a large, solid door, but Draco decided against using it. Instead, he rapped his strong knuckles against the wood of the door.
Upon closer inspection, Hermione noticed that the knocker that Draco wasn't so fond of had a grim image etched onto it. There was a vicious snake wrapped tightly around a lion's body, suffocating the strong beast. At the same time the snake was sinking its long fangs into the lion's mane. The poor lion looked like it was roaring with all of its might and writhing in inexpressible agony. Hermione turned away from the door to block the disturbing thought which was inspired by the knocker. Her eyes fell on Ron's necklace.
All of the necklaces were pastels of the colors they usually were most of the time, meaning Hermione wasn't the only frightened one amongst the three. Draco's pendant, the lizard, was a light orange; Ron's pendant, a chess piece, the knight, was a pale reddish color; and Hermione's, the book, of course, was a tinted purple color.
The door was answered by a man who, though he looked quite strong for his age, was obviously elderly. He raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise at who was standing there, at Wormtail's front door. The trio had to restrain themselves from jumping for joy at the sight of him, though, because he fitted the description that Ginny had told them of an old man who waited on Pettigrew there.
"Wait just a moment please," he said, and left a small view through the partially open door. Lucius placed his foot in the doorway, a very clever idea, in Goyle's opinion: it would stop Pettigrew and whoever that old man was from closing the door on them in fright, disbelief, or suspicion, from closing the door on three false ghosts.
Clearly, there was some kind of conflict, because all three of them heard shouting, stomping, and a little while later, after waiting outside awkwardly trying to be mysterious and scary, the old man reappeared with Pettigrew by his side. Pettigrew pushed him aside and looked fearfully at Lucius, Crabbe, and Goyle standing on the front steps of his (rather pathetic) home. Crabbe and Goyle followed Lucius' lead, as he had told them to do, and stared back at Pettigrew with grave expressions on their dull faces.
"Harold," Peter addressed the old man.
"Yes, sir?"
Send an owl to the Dark Lord and ask him to come right away. And be nice about it," he added hastily. "I don't want to be the one responsible for angering him."
"Of course, sir," Harold replied, though he looked rather uncomfortable about doing such a thing. Pettigrew had said all of this to him very quietly, though, as though frightened of being killed by his former colleagues.
Suddenly Goyle noticed that they hadn't hid their necklaces. He tried to subtly nudge Crabbe with his elbow. Crabbe looked at him normally, that is, in confusion and bewilderment. Goyle put his necklace behind the front of his robe so that it couldn't be seen. Then rare realization dawned on Crabbe's face, and he understood what Goyle was trying to tell him, so he tucked in his necklace also. He hoped that Pettigrew wouldn't pay any mind to Lucius's necklace.
Pettigrew turned back from his discussion with Harold quite nervously.
"Come in, sirs! What happened? I could have sworn that the three of you were, uh, had, um, well, I guess you aren't, are you? Tell me, I must hear your story," he finally stammered, opening the door all of the way and ushering them inside with a fake smile. His silver hand matched perfectly with the doorknob he was holding much too tightly.
Lucius stepped, no, more like glided in, followed by Crabbe and Goyle, who tried to look dead/clumsy-ish…it wasn't easy. Pettigrew left the door to somehow welcome them. He took them to a room off of the front of the house, deep into its reaches. Crabbe purposely slammed the door shut with a dissonant BANG! which shook the house and caused Pettigrew to fly five feet into the air in shock. Goyle gave a coy smile to Crabbe; Harry would know they were inside now, apart from the bonus of scaring Pettigrew to the end of his nerves. But it also reminded him: Voldemort is coming. The old man, Harold, he's sending an owl for him right now! Oh, hurry Harry, hurry! Or else I fear we may not leave this house alive. She, of course, knew that Harry wouldn't actually hear her, but Crabbe shuddered and gulped, and gave her a frightened look. What is that for? she wondered.
Once Pettigrew had led them to the living room-looking chamber where they could sit down (but didn't), he immediately started to fidget.
"I'll make some tea for us, then," he said with another brown-nosing smile.
"WE DO NOT NEED TEA, Pettigrew," said Lucius, as though Pettigrew was a bumbling idiot, which Goyle reminded himself, he was. Crabbe and Goyle decided to glower at Pettigrew and crack their knuckles menacingly, so that Lucius could go on and speak.
"What has always been the motive of the Dark Lord, Pettigrew?" Lucius spat at him, standing rigidly in front of the small, balding man, and glaring at him so meanly that Goyle would have run away long ago if Lucius had been looking at him. It was strangely unreal, though, being there. The fear Goyle felt was dull; it didn't seem to matter as much as it should. But he kept his attention on the coward.
Pettigrew didn't look ready for a pop quiz, and he could tell that the question he'd just been asked was going to have a trick answer. He stuttered to make time for himself, stalling and fidgeting even more.
"Well, um, that would be-" Pettigrew began, but Lucius interrupted him impatiently.
"TO CONQUER DEATH!" He shouted at Pettigrew in the traditionally silky, venomous, Malfoy voice that made anyone within a twenty mile radius feel like filth. (A/n: Twenty mile radius- "Ouch.") He narrowed his steely grey eyes at Peter, almost in amusement, it seemed.
"And do you know what happened to us, Pettigrew?" He pronounced each syllable smoothly and firmly, as though he was about to divulge a fatal secret.
Peter shook his head vigorously, worried for what he knew Lucius might say. His beady little eyes darted back and forth across the room and he rubbed his hands together anxiously, as a rat might do. Lucius grinned eerily at him.
"We died."
~Evyfleur
