CHAPTER XVII

A figure in a long black coat, with a worn black army back slung over his shoulder appeared mysteriously in a back alleyway of Hogsmead. Some kids that were hanging out late sat on upturned trashcans near him. They regarded his broad stature apprehensively as he strolled in their direction. When he reached them he nodded and continued along the muddy street. Behind him, the kids looked questioningly at each other and shrugged. They continued to watch the strange mans progress with interest. When he reached the end of the alleyway, where it met the main street, another dark figure stepped out from where he had been hidden in a doorway. This one was cloaked and hooded in black. The kids shivered, this one looked too much like a death eater. He wore no mask however. He slipped off his hood, revealing black hair, and exchanged a few brief words with the other man. The one carrying the bag looked displeased, but in the end he pressed his lips in a firm line and jerked his head in the direction he was heading. The black-cloaked man nodded, and they both set off up the main street. The kids jumped of their trashcans and scrambled home to report the news of two strange figures who had passed through.

***

Madam Rosmerta stood in the back room of the Three Broomsticks, grinding up coffee beans and getting breakfast ingredients out.

" morning Rosmerta!" called Tommy as he passed by the open window. Tommy was the young boy that delivered fresh vegetables and other groceries every morning. Rosmerta turned off the tap and wiped her hands on a dishtowel. She went over to the back door to let him in.

" Good morning," she said cheerfully, "Just put them over their Tommy."

He nodded.

"Hear bout the kids last night?" he asked conversationally in his unrefined country-boy brogue.

Rosmerta frowned.

"No," she asked worriedly, "did something happen?"

Tommy shrugged.

"Not much, some kids out late last night saw these to strangers walk through town. They was both wearing all black. Sounds t'me a little creepy, specially what with all the trouble goin' on round these days."

Rosmerta felt a little shiver. She began to worry that there would be trouble soon. She smiled, not letting on the anxiety.

"How interesting," she said, "Well thanks Tommy for the groceries."

She pulled out a few sickles from her apron pocket and deposited them in Tommy's grubby extended fingers. He gave her a little grin, tipped his hat, and left through the door. When he'd left, Rosmerta crossed to the room, to one of the counter drawers. Pulling out a scrap of parchment and a quill, she scribbled a note.

Dumbledore,

I have just heard a rumor of two suspicious figures in all black that passed through here last night. Thought you ought to know.

~Rosmerta

Folding the note, she tucked it in her pocket to send when the owl came to deliver the newspaper.

***

The Hogsmead delivery owl swooped into the great hall, high above the chatting students, to land dangerously on the rim of Dumbledore's huge goblet. It dropped the letter in his lap, and then sat staring at him. Dumbledore smiled, and tossed it a few bacon rinds. It gave a muffled sort of hoot, before launching off the golden cup, sloshing pumpkin juice onto the white tablecloth. As it flapped away, Dumbledore picked up the letter, unfolding the unsealed paper. When he had read it he smiled. If one had been observant, they would have seen a sparkle of satisfaction in his aged gaze. Flipping over the note, he scribbled a quick message on the back using a muggle ball tip pen that he carried in the pocket of his robes.

***

Hermione looked up from her breakfast plate at Ron, who was (as usual) inhaling his food.

"Ron, do you know where Harry is? He hasn't come down yet."

Ron's ears, for the first time in his life, did not go red. He was immensely pleased at himself. He shrugged casually.

"I think he was still sleeping. He was awfully tired after last night, no worries mione it's the holidays."

Hermione nodded. Ron silently let out a breath. He though it would be better if Hermione didn't find out about this until Harry had a little more time to get further away. He looked up at the staff table, and was surprised to see that Snape was not sitting there. Then again, he thought, everyone might get kind of suspicious if he just showed up all of a sudden. He was probably having breakfast in Dumbledore's office. Ron looked at Dumbledore, who was receiving an owl. It was an unusually reddish brown, with white under the wings. He took the letter, fed the owl some bacon rinds, and slit it open smartly with his thumb. Removing the small slip of paper, he unfolded it, and read. His eyes then lifted and went straight to the Gryffindor table. He nodded to himself. Ron watched all this with curiosity.

"Ron," said Hermione voice. "Ron, eat up your eggs are getting cold."

She was looking at him suspiciously. Ron grinned and went back to inhaling his food. There was a flutter above his head. Ron looked up to see an owl, with familiar reddish brown plumage, and white under the wings. It dropped a piece of paper on Ron's lap and fluttered off. Ron picked it up and read:

Tell Miss Granger about Harry before she begins to worry; he is far enough on his way.

Ron choked slightly. How did Dumbledore know? Then he grinned, nothing gets passed Dumbledore you dolt, he told himself.

"What's that Ron?" asked Hermione with interest.

Ron looked at her uncomfortably.

"Come on show me," she insisted, "I want to know."

Ron sighed and handed her the scrap of paper.

When she looked up, she definitely looked worried.

"He left?" she asked in a slightly dangerous voice.

Ron sighed.

"I knew it," he said. "I knew you were going to blame me for this if I told you."

"Well how could I not blame you?" she asked shrilly.

Ron was genuinely surprised. He wouldn't have thought Hermione would actually hold him responsible.

"Oh I don't know," he said sarcastically, "maybe because it was him that decided it on his own? I mean, come on, its not like I forced him to! Hell I didn't even think of it!"

"You should have stopped him!" Hermione stubbornly, she looked very angry, although Ron didn't quite know if it was at him, Harry, or herself.

"I'm his bloody best mate Hermione! He trusted me to keep it quiet! Hell! If I knew as much about magic I'd be skipping school and going with him," Hermione glared at him. He could tell she didn't think his argument was very convincing. Ron gritted his teeth.

"How about this," he said. "I want to hear you say, truthfully, that he's not the only one who has even a remote chance of succeeding," Ron laughed. "You think those crappy excuses for aurors working under Fudge at the ministry would be able to do it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Ron cut her off.

"You do?" he said incredulously. "Well your wrong, I'll tell you what they'd do, and don't bother arguing, because you know I'm right. They'd mass up enough people to take down a country, storm Azkaban, and Ginny would be dead," Hermione flinched, "before they'd even gotten through the first wall," Ron finished hoarsely. He wasn't even bothering to keep his voice down.

Hermione looked slightly teary eyed.

"Now tell me," said Ron, "that you don't believe me."

Hermione didn't say anything. Her eyes welled up, and she looked down at her hands where they were folded in her lap. Ron leaned over a kissed her cheek. She leaned on his shoulder and sniffled.

"He's going to be just fine," said Ron vehemently.

"I can't believe," whispered Hermione, "that Dumbledore is just sitting back and watching as Harry walks right into the middle of Voldemort's circle."

Ron winced.

"It's something that would have to happen eventually. I think Dumbledore knows when to let go. I think he thinks Harry is ready to be let go," he said.

Hermione looked up at him. Ron hardly ever showed this intuitive side. It was happening more and more lately. Ron nodded in the direction of the door.

"Come on, lets go play chess or something," he said.

Hermione smiled.

***

As soon as Draco finished his breakfast he went to his dormitory and sat down on the bed. He figured he should right to his father, warning him that Potter was on his way. His stomach twisted oddly. He ignored it, and grabbed a sheet of parchment and a quill.

Word at the school says that Potter's headed your way,

Draco paused. He didn't know why, but he didn't really feel like writing this note. He picked it up and crumpled it. Father would be here in a few days to take him to get initiated, he could tell him about it then. Yea, that was it, no need to write a note when you could tell him in person.

***

"Lucius."

"Yes my Lord?"

"Perhaps it is time to fetch your son. He is seventeen is he not?"

"Yes, my Lord."

There was a low chuckle.

"Good, bring him here tomorrow, we will see if he is deatheater material."

"I assure you he will not disappoint you my Lord."

"I'll decide that for myself," hissed Voldemort.

***

Ginny woke to the screech of the metal door being opened. Footsteps echoed in the empty room. She pretended to be asleep.

"You know the orders," said a authoritice female voice, quietly but sharply.

"She's to be given a proper bed and bath, now stop dawdling and pick her up, and no unnecessary contact" she hissed.

"You should be careful Adria, people might think your going soft," said a man's voice. There was a muffled wump, and a groan.

"Don't speak to me like that, you'll find you won't survive the experience next time," said Adria. "Now pick her up before you get the same treatment at him," she said to the second man. Ginny felt herself being lifted. Her skin crawled at the close contact with a deatheater. She stirred slightly, as though she was waking.

"She's waking up," said the man holding her.

"Good, take her down the hall, and you," she kicked the man doubled over on the floor. "Go start a bath."

***

"Well if you insist on tagging along," said Harry in irritation, "then make yourself useful and tell me the best place to apparate to."

Severus gritted his teeth. The boy was too cocky.

"They've got death eaters up and down the coast for ten miles out. We'll have to apparate outside the forest and hike in, otherwise their apparition detectors will pick us up."

Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Sure you're up to the hike?"

Snape's nostrils flared.

"Don't patronize me boy I've been doing this sort of thing since you were in diapers."

Harry merely smirked, which irritated Severus even further. He waved his wand in the air angrily, and behind it, a picture appeared.

"That's where you want to apparate. And try to be quiet," he barked.

Harry shrugged infuriatingly and disappeared with a pop. Severus followed him quickly; wanting to make sure the boy didn't try to lose him.

***

Draco stood in the damp corner of wherever it was that his father had taken him. He was blindfolded, and could here voices ahead of him.

"Don't worry about the girl now," said a man. "Potter will come or he won't, we have other matters to attend to."

"Such as the initiation of my son," hissed Lucius Malfoy'svoice.

Draco had a sudden urge to be accepted. No one had ever accepted him. He suddenly wished very strongly to become a deatheater, to impress these other death eaters.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about Potter not coming," he said from his corner.

There was silence.

"Silence boy!" came his father's voice, "do not speak of things you don't understand."

Draco clenched his teeth.

"On the contrary father," he spat. " You would be happy to know that Potter is on his way."

He did not feel the need to speak very respectfully towards his father. Lucius didn't care about him, and to Draco he was just a man who happened to have lived with him for his entire life. Draco smiled in the direction he thought they were. Someone gripped his shoulders.

"What?" growled a voice.

"Oh yes," said Draco. "He's coming here, alone."

There were hisses of satisfaction. The three men Draco could not see promptly began to bicker about who would bring the Dark Lord the good news.

"Perhaps," he interrupted loudly, "I should be the one to bring it to him, seeing as how it was my news."

More silence.

"Don't be ridiculous boy," said his father. "No one see's the Dark Lord unless they are a deatheater."

The three men began to bicker childishly again. Draco's lips curved upward in a smile. He wasn't going to let these cowardly men get the better of him. He slowly raised his tied wrists, and slipped up the blindfold. Backing into the shadows, he depended on he smaller frame, and black clothing to camouflage him. He quietly walked across the room, against the wall, until he reached the obsidian-gilded door that he suspected led to the Dark Lord's throne room. Unobserved, he reached out a hand and grasped the door knob, feeling the thrill of cold fear drenching his body. Despite the sweat beginning to cover his brow, he pushed it resolutely forward. He would show them. He would not show fear. He would defy the man who lived in his house and claimed his mother as his wife. Draco had no great love for his father. In fact, he would love nothing better than to see him fail, and he wanted to be the one to make Lucius Malfoy do so.

***

Tom Riddle gazed, through transformed red eyes, at the small, weak boy that had so bravely entered his throne room uninvited. He would have to pay for this mistake. The boy did not stop, but strode purposefully closer, displaying a surprising amount daring. Voldemort could sense the fear in him, and smiled. Interested despite himself, he decided to wait, and see what the foolish child would do next. It was his own cruel sort of amusement. He eyed the boy. He was thin, blonde, with chiseled, cruelly handsome features and calculating eyes that came from being raised by deatheaters. He was obviously 17, and obviously considered himself a man. Voldemort did not doubt that this was Lucius' son. He hoped the similarity between the two did not go further than physical appearance. Lucius was faithful, but he was interested in his own welfare, and he was a coward. Voldemort was pleased when the boy continued forward, kneeling very low and kissing his robes. He failed to notice Draco hesitate barely.

***

Draco felt his abdomen clench alarmingly as he drew closer to Voldemort. He would gladly have pinched himself if he thought it would wake him for some kind of nightmare. Swallowing to reopen his throat, he continued forward. He knelt as low as possible, hesitating almost invisibly, before pressing his lips to the buttery soft fabric of the Dark Lords robe.

"I have some good news for you my Lord," he said in a barely audible voice.

Voldemort regarded him coldly.

"Tell then, it might just save you after placing yourself in my presence without permission."

Draco trembled. He suddenly felt as though this was a very bad idea.

"Potter is on his way as we speak," he said, relieved to hear his voice come out steady. He kept his head bent, staring at the fabric of the Dark Lords robes out of respect and hearing his heart thump hard.

"Stand up," commanded the terrible voice. "And look into my eyes."

Draco would have gladly done anything except what he had just been commanded at that moment. He raised himself very slowly and paused briefly. Squaring his jaw, he forced his head up, and stared boldly at the terrifying eyes in front of him.

"What good news," came the whisper, from the slit of a mouth.

There was a blinding flash of strangely dark green light. Just before it hit him, Draco thought dimly that he should have run when he had the chance.

"I am very pleased," came the terrible voice again.