Chapter 6: Moody Mayhem
For the second morning in a row Hermione found herself yanked unceremoniously from sleep several hours earlier than she would've liked, this time by Mrs. Weasley's yell from the bottom of the staircase.
"Arthur! Urgent message from the Ministry!" A pause. "Arthur!"
Crash!
"Arthur!"
"Coming, Molly!"
Bang!
"Well, hurry up! It's urgent!"
"You've said!"
A series of deafening thuds announced Mr. Weasley's descent into the kitchen, and Ginny raised her head with a long-suffering sigh.
"You'd think," she muttered darkly, "that after yesterday, a person could get some sleep around here."
"C'mon," Hermione replied at once, shoving aside her blankets. Now that she was awake, she was far more interested in whatever the Ministry of Magic considered an urgent message the morning after the Dark Mark's first appearance in thirteen years. Understanding at once, Ginny nodded and led the way downstairs.
Hermione was used to magic by now, but what she saw upon entering the kitchen still made her jump. Judging by the way Harry kept shaking his head groggily at the breakfast table, he was having similar trouble believing his eyes. Amos Diggory's head was in the fireplace. Sparks were flying around his mouth and flames licked his ears, but he appeared wholly unconcerned with the immolation of his head. Mr. Weasley sat beside the fireplace, nodding and feverishly taking notes as Mr. Diggory talked.
"...Muggle neighbors heard bangs and shouting, so they went and called those...what d'you call them? Please-men? Arthur, you've got to get over there. It's a real stroke of luck I heard about it. I had to come into the office early to send a couple of owls, and I found the Improper Use of Magic lot all setting off. If Rita Skeeter gets hold of this one, Arthur…"
"What does Mad-Eye say happened?" asked Mr. Weasley. In the fire, Mr. Diggory rolled his eyes.
"Says he heard an intruder in his yard. Says he was creeping toward the house, but was ambushed by his dustbins."
"And what did the dustbins do?" asked Mr. Weasley, with a faint groan.
"Made one hell of a noise and fired rubbish everywhere, as far as I can tell. Apparently one of them was still rocketing around when the please-men showed up." Mr. Weasley sighed.
"And what about the intruder?"
"Oh, Arthur, you know Mad-Eye. Someone creeping into his yard in the dead of night? More likely there's a very shell-shocked cat wandering around somewhere, covered in potato peelings. But if the Improper Use of Magic lot get their hands on Mad-Eye, he's had it-think of his record. We've got to get him off on a minor charge, something in your department. What are exploding dustbins worth?"
"Might be a caution," said Mr. Weasley thoughtfully. "Mad-Eye didn't use his wand? He didn't attack anyone?"
"I'll bet he leapt out of bed and started jinxing everything he could reach through the window," sighed Mr. Diggory. "But they'll have a job proving it, there aren't any casualties." He looked around to Mrs. Weasley, who was buttering toast at the counter. "Sorry about this, Molly. Bothering you so early and all...but, well, with Mad-Eye starting his new job so soon…"
"Not at all, Amos," said Mrs. Weasley briskly. "Sure you won't have a bit of toast before you go?"
"Oh, go on then," said Mr. Diggory, and then, to Hermione's astonishment, Mrs. Weasley snatched a piece of toast from the top of the stack, placed it into the fire tongs, and transferred it into Mr. Diggory's mouth. His head vanished with a faint pop.
"I'll have to go into the office for this, Molly," said Mr. Weasley ruefully.
"Well, yes, of course," sighed Mrs. Weasley. "We'll have to go and get your school things tomorrow, dears," she added as Fred and George ambled into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from their eyes. "There's just no way I'll manage on my own…" Hermione's heart leapt into her throat and she cast a frantic glance at Ginny, who frowned slightly but addressed her mother almost at once.
"We can go by ourselves, Mum," she said smoothly.
"Nonsense, Ginny, you're not old enough."
"We're old enough," Fred chimed in at once, with an enormous grin Hermione was sure wouldn't help their case. Sure enough, Mrs. Weasley wasn't amused.
"And it's high time you acted you age, isn't it?"
"What's going on?" asked Bill, sweeping into the kitchen and frowning as Fred and George opened their mouths, looking mutinous.
"Mum doesn't think we're old enough to go into Diagon Alley ourselves," said Ginny at once.
"Yes, well, she's quite right about that." Percy's voice preceded him into the kitchen. "Where's Father?"
"He's gone into the office, Dear."
"I'll be off as well, then," said Percy importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck." Fred and George offered several colorful suggestions as to what Mr. Crouch might need, which Percy soundly ignored as he bustled out of the kitchen.
"Did I hear someone say Mad-Eye Moody?" Bill asked his mother, after a pause. "What's he got up to?"
"Says someone broke into his house last night," explained Mrs. Weasley.
"Er-sorry," Harry chimed in. "Who's Mad-Eye Moody?" Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth to explain, but George interrupted.
"Isn't he that old nutter-"
"Your father thinks very highly of Mad-Eye Moody," Mrs. Weasley admonished.
"Yeah, well," muttered George. "Dad collects plugs, so…"
"I'll take them to London, Mum," Bill offered hastily, as if keen to head off an impending argument.
"Oh, yes!" cried Ginny, grinning as though Christmas had come early. "Go on, Mum-"
"Be quiet, Ginny," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "Bill, if you really don't mind…"
"Not at all. Rita Skeeter isn't wreaking havoc at my office."
Scarcely twenty minutes later Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins found themselves clambering out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron, where Bill announced he had business in Muggle London and would be back to collect them that evening. Hermione wasn't in any hurry to travel by Floo Powder again, she decided, brushing soot off her sleeve as they emerged into the familiar sun-drenched cobblestones of Diagon Alley.
"Behave yourselves, now," said Fred, in a very good imitation of Mrs. Weasley's most severe manner.
"Yes, or we'll be very disappointed," added George, and the twins vanished in what looked suspiciously like the direction of Knockturn Alley.
"C'mon," said Ginny, seizing Hermione's hand and dragging her away.
"Where're you going?" demanded Ron. He started to follow, but Ginny waved him off.
"You're not invited!" she cried, ignoring his and Harry's half-joking yelps of protest. The second they'd rounded the corner, she turned to face Hermione.
"Can I come to meet Draco, then? I should've asked before." Hermione nearly laughed.
"Don't be ridiculous, of course you can." She paused. "Who is Mad-Eye Moody?" Ginny shrugged.
"Haven't a clue. Sounds like a right loony, though, if he's got enchanted dustbins…"
"Why would anyone enchant a dustbin?" said a familiar voice, and Hermione felt a grin come unbidden to her face even before she turned around. Draco and Theo stood before them, both noticeably pale and tired but otherwise unharmed.
"Ask Mad-Eye Moody," said Ginny with a smirk. Theo frowned.
"Alastor Moody?" Ginny shrugged.
"Probably, I don't reckon Mad-Eye's his real name."
"Yes, but who is he?" Hermione repeated, now slightly impatient.
"Used to work for the Ministry, I think?" said Theo slowly. "I thought he was dead, though."
"You're thinking of someone else," Draco told him. "Crouch, or something." Ginny glanced at Hermione, then burst out laughing.
"Barty Crouch isn't dead." Draco frowned.
"How d'you know that?"
"Because he works for the Ministry!"
"And that makes him immortal, does it?"
"Draco, trust me-"
"Never said I didn't-"
"-then he's not dead!" Pause.
"Well, someone's dead," Draco concluded, as though Ginny had denied the existence of gravity. Theo glanced up at the sky.
"Celestina Warbeck is dead."
"What's that got to do with anything?" Draco asked.
"And no, she definitely isn't!" Ginny added, with an exasperated groan. Theo thought for a moment, then caught Hermione's eye with a smirk as if to say, watch this.
"Gwenog Jones is dead," he said casually. This name meant nothing to Hermione, but the uproar from Draco and Ginny was instantaneous; Draco drew back as if Theo had slapped him, and Ginny stamped her foot in frustration.
"No, she ISN'T!" they cried together.
"Who is Gwenog Jones?" Hermione asked in an undertone as Draco and Ginny drew ahead, muttering darkly to one another. Theo laughed.
"Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Only all-female team in the British league," he added, seeing her blank look. Quidditch. She ought to have known.
"She isn't dead, then?"
"Definitely not." Theo paused. "She and Mum are good friends. Don't tell..." he gestured toward Draco and Ginny, who were already halfway through a highly detailed and, by the sound of it, somewhat contentious rehashing of yesterday's match. Hermione had half-forgotten that she'd attended a Quidditch match not twenty-four hours ago, and she laughed involuntarily. She was hard-pressed, at the moment, to summon the sense of foreboding that had kept her company all the way home and slipped into her dreams to wake her every few hours throughout the night. Here in the sun, among the brightly colored umbrellas and cheerful window displays, basking in the music of Ginny's laugh, the delicious conspiracy in Theo's eyes, and Draco's effortless beauty, it was impossible to feel anything other than fantastically lighthearted.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Their fourth-year booklists were notably light, with the result that they spent a great deal of time helping Ginny find the books for her new subjects this year. Hagrid, Hermione noted with no small pang of bitterness, had abandoned The Monster Book of Monsters in favor of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander.
"They've probably refused to stock them," Ginny remarked. "And thank god."
"Well, they can't, can they?" Draco snickered. "Not with Harold gone."
"Shh," hissed Theo at once, gesturing toward the front of the shop. "That's Harold." Hermione groaned as she glanced at the next book on Ginny's list.
"Honestly, Ginny, not Divination-"
"Yes, haven't you learned your lesson?" gasped Theo, snatching up a copy of Unfogging the Future by Cassandra Vablatsky and eyeing the cover with distaste. "Hideous woman."
"You had your chance to give it up, you know," Hermione reminded him.
"And take something difficult?" Theo retorted, as though she'd suggested he eat dung for breakfast. She rolled her eyes.
"You can't complain about it then, can you?"
"I can complain about anything I like, Hermione," said Theo seriously. "It's one of life's only true pleasures and I won't let you take it away from me."
"Oh, for heaven's sake…"
Draco and Ginny, meanwhile, seemed to be arguing about broomsticks.
"...not just about speed," said Ginny haughtily.
"I didn't say it was," snapped Draco. "I just said speed was more important than-"
"Yes, and I'm saying that's exactly what I'd expect from the second-best Seeker at Hogwarts," Ginny interrupted with a smirk. Draco gasped as though Ginny had threatened to kill his family, but he was grinning.
"I hope you make the team this year," he said gravely. "I'll make sure you regret that."
"I'm not afraid of you," Ginny informed him, throwing her arm around Theo's shoulders as they swept from the shop. "Afraid for you, given your taste in brooms…"
"Oh, get bent." Draco took Hermione's hand and gave it a quick, light kiss. Theo smirked.
"C'mon," he said to Ginny. "The two of you've got to be separated. If I hear any more Quidditch talk this afternoon I'll kill myself." Ginny rolled her eyes and Draco made a very rude hand gesture at Theo, which he returned over his shoulder as he and Ginny swept up the street and out of sight. Draco pulled Hermione into a tight hug at once, which she instinctively returned.
"Hi," he said softly, relaxing somewhat without releasing her. She felt, rather than heard, a soft laugh escape her.
"Hi." She slipped out of his grip just enough to see his face. He looked thoughtful, almost melancholy, but the moment their eyes met a smile pricked at the corner of his lips and lit a match inside her heart. She returned it and led him, slowly and remaining as close as she possibly could, to the neighboring steps of Gringotts. They chose a spot somewhat apart from the flurry of activity surrounding the doors and sat. Draco considered her for a moment, then lay back and placed his head in her lap. She smiled involuntarily, rather touched.
"All right?" He nodded, sending his hair falling carelessly across his face and into his eyes. She brushed it back and he caught her hand as she made to withdraw it, holding it against his cheek like a small child with his blanket. Hermione feared she'd die from the burst of affection filling her chest; evidently it showed on her face, for he gave her a quizzical look.
"What?"
"Do you mean to be so sweet?" To her delight, his cheeks went as pink as she'd ever seen them.
"Shut up." She laughed.
"Of course, forgive me. You're vile." His eyes filled at once with mischief, and before she could blink he sat up and stroked her cheek, pulling her close as his hand slipped back into her hair.
"Thank you," he breathed. "I was offended you hadn't acknowledged it."
The only thing softer than Draco's hands was his voice, and the combination ignited something curious, something deliciously frightening inside her, as though she were empty and burning all at the same time. She scarcely felt his lips on hers, but the kiss removed her from the confines of time and the surface of the earth. He considered her for a moment as they broke apart, and his expression shifted from misty-eyed admiration to something thoughtful, almost grim.
"What are you thinking?" she asked. He sighed and bit his lip.
"Theo says…" he paused. "Er. That thing at the match. D'you…" he trailed off. He didn't need to ask his question for Hermione to know he fervently hoped the answer was no.
"I read all about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts last term." She chose not to mention she'd been looking for information about dementors and stumbled upon it accidentally. Draco nodded, now staring fixedly at a large barn owl perched haughtily on the roof of the Magical Menagerie across the way.
"I didn't," he said finally. "Not till last night, anyway." It wasn't often any longer that Hermione couldn't read Draco's expression, and she felt a chill go down her spine.
"What did Theo say?" she asked finally. Her voice trembled, but she was powerless to stop it. Draco looked at her for a few seconds as if she'd asked him to name the last five Prime Ministers of Peru, then shook his head slightly.
"Oh, just that he saw…" he sighed. "Never mind. I'm sure it's nothing." Whatever it was, Draco was obviously sure it wasn't nothing. "What...er, well. What d'you think it means?" Hermione bit her lip and joined him in watching the owl. It turned its head sharply to stare back, and she'd never felt more certain she was being wished a grisly and untimely demise.
"I don't know," she said slowly. Mr. Weasley hadn't been very keen on the subject, and Harry had maintained a policy of silent introspection all night that she and Ron hadn't liked to disturb. After a moment's thought, she voiced the question that had been on her mind since the Mark appeared in the sky. "Whoever conjured the Mark...I wonder whether they were doing it to show support of the Death Eaters, or to scare them away." Draco flinched almost imperceptibly at the phrase Death Eaters, but nonetheless frowned in thought as the owl tired of its perch and soared off among the rooftops.
"Well, I don't reckon anyone else ever knew how to conjure it," he said finally. Having evidently lost track of the owl, he'd begun staring intently at the weathervane on the roof of the shop. "If they were doing it to scare them away…" he paused for what felt like an eternity, then shook his head. "Never mind. That isn't right."
"What is it?" Hermione asked. She heard the keen edge entering her voice and internally winced. This really wasn't the moment to sound so enthusiastic; on the other hand, it wasn't often Draco willingly discussed Voldemort or anything even tangentially related. Draco gave her a sheepish look.
"If someone was doing it to scare them away...I wondered if maybe if was one of-well, you know. One of the ones who got sent away to Azkaban the first time, and was hacked off at everyone who didn't." He grimaced. "But obviously we'd have heard if anyone had broken out of Azkaban." Hermione jumped slightly.
"Of course we would," she said at once. "My god, Draco, don't be silly."
"Obviously," Draco repeated. "I said never mind." He fell silent for another few moments, and she recognized the expression he wore when he was working up the nerve to tell her something. "Er...someone told me…" he bit his lip and glanced down at the pavement. "When. Well, you know. When we were...around a year old?" He didn't look at her, but paused in a way that clearly demanded some sort of acknowledgement that she knew what he meant.
"Er-yes?" she whispered. Suddenly, she wasn't sure she wanted to hear whatever came next.
"Right. Someone told me that...that their friend...well, that she was afraid. Of. Well, you know." He looked up at the sky, and she realized with a jolt that his hands were shaking rather badly. She reached out and took one, and for the first time in her memory, he didn't acknowledge the gesture. "She was so afraid her family would be killed that she Obliviated them." He spoke so quietly that it took her a moment to make out his words, and when she finally understood them they knocked the wind out of her. She threw his hand from her and drew back sharply, unable to suppress her gasp of horror.
"My god, Draco, that's-who told you that?!" His lip trembled slightly, and he gave a very forced shrug. Hermione shook her head in a moderately successful attempt to restore breath to her body.
"That's horrible," she said flatly.
"I know. I've just been thinking...I'm sorry." He looked horribly small and vulnerable then, and her heart fought to escape her body, as if it could rush in to protect his.
The moment she touched him he melted against her.
"Some things aren't going to change," she said softly. "Isn't that right?" For the first time since he'd brought up the Mark, he properly met her eyes.
"Is it?" She brushed his hair aside and kissed his forehead.
"I promise."
The sun had fallen low in the sky by the time Ginny and Theo returned.
"As we suspected," Theo remarked. "They've moved around ten feet in the past six hours."
"Yes, only to get away from you," Draco retorted, and Ginny stuck out her tongue.
"We've got to go," she sighed. "Bill's waiting in the Leaky Cauldron." Hermione nodded and got to her feet, and Draco followed a moment later and gave her a quick kiss.
"I suppose we'll see you on the train in a few days," she said, and his hasty smile didn't quite hide the melancholy behind his eyes.
"Are you coming with me, then?" Theo asked Draco. The latter shook his head slightly, with a quick glance at Ginny.
"No, I'd better go home," he said vaguely. "There's just something I've got to do first." Theo shrugged.
"Right then. I suppose I can go with you to the Leaky Cauldron, if you're sure your brothers aren't going to skin me alive."
"I never said I was sure of that," Ginny informed him, leading the way up the street toward the pub. Theo's retort made Ginny shriek with indignant laughter, but Hermione wasn't listening. She turned to give Draco one last, quick smile, and felt her heart swell upon seeing he'd stayed on the steps to watch her go. Even apart, she could always depend upon the warmth of his eyes.
