It was a chastened and inundated gang of four that watched their instructors shuffle off the roof a little while later. Though they had instructions from Giles to 'hurry off to bed,' they lingered to discuss the evening amongst themselves.
"This is gonna be somethin'," Ron said after the professors had gone. "That felt so real."
"Yeah. We'll have to be ready." Harry noticed Hermione staring at Draco. "Hermione? Is everything okay?"
She didn't respond to him, speaking to Draco instead.
"I thought you were a prefect," she said to him.
"Of course I'm a prefect, Granger. Why wouldn't I be?"
Tears of hurt formed in her eyes. "They said I couldn't be if we did this."
"That's just terrible, isn't it? I guess you don't have what it takes, do you?"
"Come off it, Malfoy. Leave her alone."
"Hey, Weasley, it's not my fault if she can't handle a bit of extra work."
"You bloody -!" Ron leapt at Draco, driving him to the ground. Harry wasted no time; when Ron raised his fist to smack Draco, Harry grabbed it and dragged him off the blonde boy.
"Ron! Stop!"
"Don't be such a prat, Weasley," Draco said, brushing stone dust from his black robe and sitting up. "I was only havin' a bit of sport with your girl."
"I'll bust you upside the head if you don't shut up, Malfoy," Ron retorted, struggling against Harry's restraining grip.
"Don't bother, Ron," Hermione said dejectedly. "Not worth it." She looked away, but Harry and Ron knew she was struggling to fight back tears. "If you don't mind, I'm going back to the dorm. I'll see you in the morning."
She started for the door. Ron glared at Draco, his face reddening.
"Aw, goddammit," Draco muttered. He hadn't meant to make her start blubbering. "Granger, wait." He took a step towards her and Ron moved to block his path, dragging Harry along, but Hermione stopped and turned. "Listen, I was just gettin' on you. I didn't mean anything by it."
"Are you apologizing to me, Draco?"
"Guess I bloody well am. Can't have you lot trying to kill me four nights a week, can I?"
"We'll find out," Ron mumbled.
"But you are a prefect, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am. It's different than with you, alright?" Draco's stomach turned at the thought of explaining himself to make her feel better, but he didn't have much choice. They were still allies, and they needed to know the subtext of the entire charade if they would be of any use to him at all.
"How's that?" She came back and rejoined the group. Ron wrapped a comforting arm around her waist, and she laid her head on his shoulder.
"My father demanded it, first off, as did Voldemort. Remember, Snape made the selections; Pansy Parkinson isn't a prefect because of her looks. She's a prefect because the Death Eaters can use her."
"If you weren't a prefect, they would know something's up."
"That's right, Potter. Besides, being a Slytherin prefect is simple. I don't have to do anything. We're smart enough to force the younger prefects to do the work."
Hermione turned that over in her head. "I see. That actually makes sense strategically, as well. You have an excuse to be out at all hours."
"I also have the power to facilitate certain nocturnal activities, if necessary. That's why I sent you the note, you stupid git," he said to Ron, who fumed silently as Draco kept speaking, "because big things are stirring under the surface."
"Like what?"
"A number of things." Draco looked the roof over one more time, making sure they were alone. "They don't know about the auror training yet, but they do know something's up because Granger isn't a prefect. Though I have to say, Granger, your teary act is convincing enough to be real."
"It is real, you wanker," Ron said. "Can you lay off her, already?"
"I'm sorry. It would be a shame if Potter had to restrain you again," Malfoy said with a tight grin. "As I was saying, that makes them suspicious." He looked at Harry. "The rumor's flying around that you turned down Quidditch captain for the Weasley girl. People think you're insane, but they believe it. I expect Voldemort will, too."
"Good. Remind me to thank Willow again for that bit."
"Rosenberg came up with that? Hah. Didn't know she had that in her. Well, look, here's the rest: my father wants to be Voldemort's right hand. He and Pettigrew are fightin' over it something fierce, and I think they're both gunning to be the bloke that takes down Harry Potter for him. He's got me marked to help him do it, which means we'll have to be more clever than before about covering things up."
"We can handle that. If we know what they're gonna do, it should be alright," Harry said.
"IF we know, than yeah, we can handle it. We have another problem, though."
"What's that?" Ron asked.
"Voldemort's got an agent in Gryffindor. I'm almost certain of it. I saw some reports on my father's desk this summer that had to come from inside your house. He got them from Voldemort himself, so it's probably a personal agent, like that imp last spring."
"Great." Harry caught Ron and Hermione's eyes. "We'll have to watch everything we say." They nodded their agreement. "Any other good news?"
"No. That's enough for now, don't you think?"
"You called for me, master?"
Pettigrew bowed his head as he entered, careful not to lift his gaze from the ground. Beneath the hem of his hood, he saw the polished boots of Lucius Malfoy.
"I did, Wormtail. Lucius and I were discussing the matter of the Zombie Master. Tell me what you thought of his plan."
Pettigrew cautiously looked up; Voldemort's red eyes bored into him from across the desk, while Malfoy's ice blue eyes seemed to sneer at him with contempt. He had a Hobson's choice in front of him. He could answer honestly and risk his master's wrath, or he could grovel and earn his certain contempt.
"I think it could work, my lord," Pettigrew equivocated. He never knew exactly what Voldemort wanted to hear, which made choosing his words very difficult.
"But you have some doubts, do you?"
"I … I think it would be a long time to wait."
Voldemort's thin lips formed a cruel smile. "I know you, Wormtail. You won't know what I am thinking until I know what you are thinking, so you had best speak your mind. You think my revenge is a trivial undertaking that distracts us from the larger goal."
"No! My lord, I know that you desire your revenge. I-I-I…"
"You're an imbecile, Pettigrew," Malfoy said coldly. "How do you propose we muster the zombies faster? Some sort of growth potion?"
"Of course not, Lucius," Pettigrew snapped. He could feel Malfoy trying to drive a wedge between him and the master. "I … worry, however."
"About?" Voldemort was vaguely amused, as he had been all summer, by watching the power struggle between his lieutenants.
"Ch-challenging the Slayer directly, without attacking her allies."
"You fear my plan will consist only of piecemeal attacks, and will be defeated, is that it?"
"Y-yes, my lord. I understand your desire for revenge; it will without a doubt help our cause. B-but we need to use more force."
Voldemort silently chuckled. His subordinates had no idea that he had already decided to authorize another attack. It pleased him, though, when they could show the proper grasp of strategy at the same time that they sniped at one another.
"I see. Well then, tell me, Wormtail, what you make of this information," he flicked the red orbs at Malfoy, "tell him what you told me, Lucius."
With a sneer of contempt at Pettigrew, Malfoy repeated what he had told Voldemort minutes earlier.
"Granger and Potter aren't Gryffindor prefects?" Pettigrew's amazement brushed aside his posture of humility for a moment.
"Nor is Potter the Quidditch Captain, the fact I find most interesting," Voldemort said.
"How can that be, my lord? Dumbledore and his pack of fools love them, and think them capable of anything."
"Learn that during your tenure as the inimitable Scabbers, did you?"
Pettigrew ignored Malfoy's barb. "Do we have any idea why they were overlooked?"
"Some notions," Voldemort announced. He knew full well that Potter had supposedly turned down Quidditch captaincy for the Weasley girl, though he did not believe it. He had an agent investigating the truth as they spoke. His gaze focused on Malfoy. "You believe your son is ready, and can be trusted?"
"I do. He has learned the penalty for defying us."
"If he has not," Voldemort added dismissively, "he will not have much time to contemplate it. We have others in the castle to see to that. I want you to go to Hogwarts and explain this assignment in person."
When Voldemort had finished diagramming his plan, Malfoy and Pettigrew were both smiling. "Now, before we adjourn, I want to hear everything the two of you know about this new Deputy Head of Slytherin, this Tara Maclay that Snape reported on."
"I spoke with Snape directly about her," Malfoy said. "He thinks her ineffectual and untalented. She came from America, where she did minor magics to help the Slayer."
"Hmmm … indeed. Minor magics, you say? Yet didn't they send for her to help counter Precious?"
"I b-believe so, my lord."
"Than she is not as untalented as Snape seems to think. I recall her now – the blonde witch. She immobilized the giants with a growth spell." The crimson orbs crackled with energy as they swept his top lieutenants. "She is no doubt Dumbledore's heavy-handed answer to our influence in Slytherin house. I know Albus, though. She will be concealing a subtler ploy. We must be wary of her."
"Sh-should we do something, master?"
"No, Wormtail. Leave her for now. If she becomes a problem," a grin appeared on his skeletal face, "we'll simply have to kill her."
