DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. It all belongs to JK Rowling.

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Whirling past fireplaces, feeling dizzy and faintly nauseous, Harry reflected on how – apart from flying on broomsticks, that is – Muggles had certainly gotten one over on the wizarding world when it came to transport. He remembered vaguely that Sirius had once used a flying motorcycle to get around, and resolved immediately to organize something like that for himself once he was of age. If he had anything to do with it, travel by Floo or Portkey would not be his first choices in the future.

Feeling himself slowing down, he and Ron put out their hands to steady themselves, got hopelessly entangled and fell out of the fireplace on the other end in an ungainly heap.

"Awww, cute," drawled an amused voice. "Can't be parted for a minute, can you? Do your girlfriends know about this unhealthy little situation?"

Embarrassed, they disentangled themselves and got to their feet, wands at the ready.

"So help me, Malfoy, if it wasn't for Harry I'd have thumped you good and proper by now," said Ron, sneezing violently. "Just wait till we get back to Hogwarts. I'll … I'll…"

Brushing soot off himself, Harry glared at his red-haired friend, who had a black smear across one cheek, a ripped cloak, and was looking decidedly worse for the wear. "Give it a rest, Ron," he said in a loud whisper. "We know."

Harry looked around him, taking stock of the situation. They were in a small cottage that was not in much better repair than the one they had just left, except that there were still a few pieces of furniture left unbroken. He went over to the window and peered through a filthy windowpane.

"What's going on, Malfoy? I can only see a jungle out there … good lord, look at those weeds. This place must be infested with gnomes. Your mum would have a breakdown, Ron."

Malfoy and Ron joined him at the window. "Over there," hissed Malfoy, pointing to the right. "Riddle House."

Dimly, Harry could see the flanks of a large house rising out of the murk.

"Come on," said Malfoy, gliding over to the door. "He's waiting – I managed to get a message to him, so he should be over there now."

"Who's waiting?" demanded Harry. "I'm not leaving here until I know who we're going to be facing."

"My contact – I told you I had one," said Malfoy impatiently. "I've been paying him a lot of gold – he wants out of Voldemort's circle, but to do that he needs to get far away and he needs money. He's OK – hasn't let me down yet. Come on!"

They slunk out of the cottage and towards the main house, taking care to avoid the brambles and nettles that had overtaken the huge garden. There were no lights on in the house, and Harry could barely make out the shape of Malfoy moving in front of him. He shivered – there was something incredibly creepy about this place, and an aura of evil hung over it. It seemed to blank out the light, so he felt like he was moving in an underwater gloom similar to the one he had experienced in the lake at Hogwarts. He shook his head to clear it.

They slid around the side of the house, and Malfoy crouched in front of what looked like an old coal chute. Looking around him quickly, he opened the tiny doors and without hesitation, climbed through them.

"I don't like this, Harry," whispered Ron from behind him. "Not one bit."

"Yeah, me either," Harry hissed back. "Wands at the ready …"

Taking a deep breath, he followed Malfoy, Ron right behind him. They found themselves in a pitch-black room, with no visibility whatsoever. Harry heard something move ahead of him, and he raised his wand as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"Lumos," said a vaguely familiar voice, and light filled the room. Harry gasped and stepped backwards into Ron, who couldn't help himself as he gasped the name of the person in front of them.

"Wormtail!"

Shocked, Harry pointed his wand at the chubby little man, who immediately cowered when he saw two wands pointed at him.

"Don't … don't hurt me!" he quavered.

"This … thing, is your contact, Malfoy?" spat Ron, glaring at the Slytherin. "D'you know what he is? Only Voldemort's right hand man, you idiot! You've sold us out!"

Baffled, Malfoy stared from them to Pettigrew. "What? What are you talking about? Pettigrew – what's going on?"

"He's a traitor," Harry managed, his hand shaking as his fury grew. "He betrayed my parents to Voldemort, which is why they died that night he tried to kill me. When Voldemort vanished, Wormtail went into hiding and was only exposed once Sirius Black was out of Azkaban. Then he helped Voldemort regain his powers! You … you deserve to die for what you've done!"

Advancing towards Pettigrew, his wand held high and the blaze of righteous fury burning inside him, Harry was truly prepared to kill for the first time in his life.

"Wait … wait, kind Harry!" whined Pettigrew. "I want out … my life here isn't worth the ground you're standing on …"

"Too good treatment for the likes of you," said Ron furiously. "What happened, 'Scabbers'? Why aren't you at the top of the filth pile any more?"

"It's Bellatrix," whispered Pettigrew, eyes darting around. "She's the favoured one – and she frightens me. I think she wants to get rid of me … I need to get far away, far away."

"I don't like this, Harry," muttered Ron. "He's sold us out before – I reckon he'll do it again."

Suddenly, he turned on Malfoy. "Did you do this deliberately? Get us here so Voldemort can try and kill Harry?"

Malfoy, however, was shaking his head wildly. "No – I swear, Weasley! I didn't even want Potter to come with me – I was going to do this on my own. I knew nothing about your connection to this – this person."

Ron regarded Malfoy suspiciously for a moment, and then to Harry's amazement, nodded. "OK," he said slowly. "But now what?"

"We carry on with the plan," said Malfoy, shrugging. "What else can we do? Pettigrew, I've given you a lot of gold over the last few months and now I expect payback. Where is my father?"

At this, a look of great cunning spread over Pettigrew's rat-like face. "Well, things have changed since we last spoke," he whispered. "The risks are even greater – I might need some more money to smooth things over …"

In a flash, Harry found himself in front of Pettigrew, holding him by the throat. "You'll do what you agreed, with no more gold changing hands," he said in a lethal whisper. "Enough is enough – keep your side of the bargain for once, or pay the price!"

Instantly Pettigrew was a groveling, cowering little man. "Yes … yes, Harry," he whimpered. "You're right. This way, this way!"

He backed towards the door and they followed slowly. Turning, Pettigrew opened the door and peered out. "All quiet," he said softly. "Come!"

Slipping out into the corridor, Harry was overcome once more with the sense of an evil presence, and his scar began prickling ominously. Unconsciously, he rubbed it. They wound their way through dank passageways, unlit by anything except Pettigrew's wand, and the light seemed to be absorbed more than it was reflected. Finally, they came to a trapdoor.

"Down there," whispered Pettigrew, shaking in fear. "He's down there …"

Grasping the rusty ring on top of the rotting trapdoor, Malfoy pulled at it eagerly and jumped backwards in surprise when it began to open of its own accord.

"This is getting worse," muttered Ron, staring desperately into the gloom behind him. "I really don't like this, Harry! I'll bet there's all sorts of spiders down there…"

The trapdoor thudded back on its hinges, revealing a gaping black hole, with darkness so dense it was almost alive. Harry shuddered as he looked down into it.

"I'll go first," said Malfoy, about to leap down the hole.

"Malfoy … be careful," Harry warned, his voice cracking a little with nerves. "I don't have a good feeling about this at all."

Malfoy stared at him for a second, then nodded and dropped through the hole. For a few seconds there was silence.

"Put your wand down there," Harry snapped at Pettigrew. "He needs to see what he's doing."

Shaking, Pettigrew leaned over and lowered his wand into the darkness. For a second, all Harry could see was Malfoy's blond head. Then the room around him came into soft focus and he drew in his breath in horror.

There, lying on a ragged blanked, was the body of Lucius Malfoy. Wasted, drawn and pale to the point of translucence, he was utterly still. Draco Malfoy stared at his father in shock as he backed up against a wall.

"What's going on?" said Ron, leaning over the hole at Harry's shoulder.

Focused on the dreadful scene below them, Harry and Ron took their attention off Pettigrew for a second. Standing, he inched behind them and then with a rush that took them both off guard, pushed them as hard as he could and they tumbled headfirst into the dungeon room below.

Landing painfully on his shoulder, Harry's breath was knocked out of him by Ron landing directly on top of him. Above him, he heard Pettigrew slam and bolt the trapdoor.

"Well, thank you!" they heard him whisper ecstatically. "It looks like I won't have to run away after all – this gift to the Dark Lord will ensure my ascendancy in the ranks once more!"

For a few seconds, there was complete silence in the utter blackness of the dungeon.

"Oh, fabulous," said Ron bitterly, climbing to his feet. "Lumos!"

Instantly, the end of his wand ignited and they stared at each other. "This time I hope the Ministry does pick this up – reckon we could use a bit of help, don't you?" said Ron.

Malfoy stared uncomprehendingly at him, and then focused on the ground. "Father!" he said, scrambling towards the prone figure of Lucius Malfoy. "Wake up!"

Grabbing his father's painfully thin shoulder, he shook it hard. Lucius Malfoy's arm flopped over limply, and there was a tiny tinkling sound as a ring slipped off his skeletal finger and fell to his floor. Draco picked it up, and stared at it in horror, his hands trembling.

"No … no," he whispered. "You can't be dead … you can't …"

His face whiter than ever, he dropped to the floor as if his shaking legs would no longer hold him up, and buried his face in his hands.

"Dead?" said Harry in shocked disbelief, starting towards him. "How d'you know he's dead? He might just be out cold…"

Malfoy looked up at him, eyes glittering with tears, and thrust out his hand. "Because of this!" he whispered, showing them the ring. "It belongs to the head of the Malfoy family. Once he puts it on, it fuses to his skin for as long as he is alive. Once he's dead, the ring comes off. It's the only way it can be removed."

For a long second, he stared at the heavy silver ring that was emblazoned with an etching of an intricate dragon.

"I suppose that's me now," he said, so quietly that Harry and Ron had to move forward to hear him. "I'm the head of the Malfoy family."

Shuddering, he slipped the ring onto the third finger of his right hand. The ring began to glow blue, and rays of an icy light shot out of it into the darkened room. Flinching back, Harry and Ron shielded their eyes from its brightness. It only lasted a few seconds, and the room was plunged back into murk again.

"It's done," said Malfoy softly, and Harry could see silent tears streaming down his face. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I shouldn't be wearing this ring – it should still be on you. I'm sorry I let you down."

Harry felt incredibly awkward. "Malfoy, I .." he stammered, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

Suddenly, Malfoy got to his feet. "Let's get out of here," he said abruptly, rubbing viciously at his face with the sleeve of his cloak. "I don't want to be here a minute longer."

But no sooner had his words been spoken, then the trapdoor above them opened and light shone through. Blinking, they looked upwards.

"Well, well," said a woman's voice. "Wormtail was right. He's brought the baby Potter as a gift for the Dark Lord. He will be pleased."

Chills ran up and down Harry's spine as he recognized the voice of Bellatrix Lestrange. Hate began to fill his heart, and he glared upwards at her silhouette.

"This should be fun," she whispered evilly. "You won't escape this time, Potter – not right in the lion's den. There's nowhere to go but death for you … at last!"