A/N: This is a long chapter, but the action is finally starting! And the elusive Harry Potter makes an appearance. Note that the rating has been changed to an M, mostly for Ron's mouth.
CHAPTER THREE
For a moment, all they did was stare at one another: Hermione stunned wordless at Malfoy's appearance, Malfoy staring at the space above her head, and Ron glaring over Hermione's shoulder.
He looked very different than the boy Hermione had remembered: the sharpness of his fine, aristocratic features was exacerbated by age and perhaps circumstances, making him look almost gaunt. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his skin was sallow and drawn. His white blonde hair, however, was perfectly styled like usual, and he wore a set of expensive potioneer robes made from fabric that looked like the shimmering ripples of water. Hermione was reminded of how he had looked during their sixth year, eyeing his stiff posture and twitchy expression.
"Malfoy," Hermione finally said in a tone of cold civility. He inclined his head towards her in greeting. Neither smiled.
"Granger. Weasley. Wasn't expecting to see you here," Malfoy answered, eyes flitting to where Ron loomed over the back of Hermione's chair. His protective grasp tightened on her shoulder.
"Like I'd ever let you be alone with her," Ron snarled. Deciding she'd better intervene before a fight broke out, Hermione spoke.
"Why don't you sit and tell us what you've come to say." She held out a hand, indicating the chair across from her desk. Malfoy moved towards it, eyeing the insignia on Ron's uniform warily. Hermione suspected he was thinking something very different than she had when she'd been admiring him earlier.
"I've come to ask a favor," he said bluntly. Hermione arched an eyebrow.
"Here we go," Ron muttered. She ignored him.
"What sort of favor?" Before he could answer, Ron interrupted.
"You've got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that?" Ron spat. "Coming here, asking Hermione for a favor, after the way you treated her–after the way your family treated her!"
"Ron," Hermione warned.
"Yes," Draco said quietly, his tone surprising them both. He sounded almost contrite, though it was hard to tell from the strained way he seemed to be forcing the words from his mouth. "I know. I haven't got any business asking you for a favor, but I am anyways because I'm desperate."
Surprised by his vulnerability, neither Hermione nor Ron said anything.
"It's a friend of mine, Astoria Greengrass. Do you remember Daphne Greengrass in our year at Hogwarts? Astoria's her sister. She's a healer, a midwitch really, and she comes by my shop frequently. She's gone missing."
"What exactly do you need my help with? Missing persons are dealt with by the Auror Department," Hermione said.
"I tried to report her missing, but the Aurors don't believe me. I suppose they don't hold much esteem for me." Ron gave a humorless chuckle from behind Hermione.
"Why don't they believe you?" she asked.
"Besides the fact that they don't trust me?" Hermione nodded, and Draco turned vaguely pink. "Well–we had a row before she disappeared. They think she's angry with me and that's why I haven't seen her." Draco was as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen him, staring blankly at the wall behind her, grating out the words as if he were confessing to something heinous. The truth dawned on Hermione and she nodded, understanding: Astoria was his girlfriend.
"Perhaps that is what happened," she suggested, not unkindly. His eyes flitted back to her face, filled with the same cold disdain she'd seen many times before.
"Something bad has happened, I know it," he said, his voice intense. Hermione had to admit he looked quite bedraggled. And that Draco was swallowing his dignity and asking for her help meant that he really must be torn up over her disappearance, regardless of whether anything sinister happened.
"What is it that you want me to do?" she said. Draco didn't answer right away. The silence was tense between them.
"I've heard rumors," he said finally, voice quiet. Ron immediately leaned forward, bracing his hand against the top of Hermione's desk. She jumped at his sudden appearance. He'd been so quiet through their initial exchange, she'd almost forgotten he was there. Draco's gaze shifted to Ron's face.
"What kind of rumors?" he asked.
"Rumors that a new dark wizard is gaining power. The others–" Draco broke off, obviously not able to bring himself to say the words Death Eaters. "You-Know-Who's followers. They've been looking for a new leader. I've heard whispers of it in my shop, people not pleased with what's happened in the ministry, the new regulations about magical creatures and protections for muggleborns." He gave Hermione a pointed glance. She felt cold, as if her blood had turned to ice when Draco said the words dark wizard. Beside her, Ron had gone very still and all the color had drained from his face. They were frozen, hung in rapt attention to Malfoy's words.
"What exactly are you saying, Malfoy?" Ron demanded.
"Look, I don't know for sure. I'm not exactly a favorite among You-Know-Who's followers anymore. But I've heard that there is a new dark wizard at large and the old followers are rising up in support."
"But all the Death Eaters at large have been caught," Hermione argued. Draco winced when she said Death Eaters.
"Yes, everyone who was an official member. But not everyone who supported You-Know-Who was a–" he broke off again, pausing to take a breath before continuing. "A lot more witches and wizards are blood purists than you believe. Even ones who maybe didn't agree with You-Know-Who's methods but who didn't have a problem with his ideologies," Draco finished, looking uncomfortable.
"The signs are all there," he continued. "Benedict Nott disappeared two weeks ago. He's the only one in his family who refused to join You-Know-Who last time. Why has he just now gone missing? After five years of peace? And that isn't just a one off, I've seen a lot of graffiti near my shop, terrible things. Dark magic items have been cropping up more in Diagon Alley, and I've heard at least three reports of cursed muggle items in the past few months. And just today, a baby was snatched out of its cot. Don't you see? There's a pattern. It's the same as what happened when You-Know-Who came back last time."
Hermione felt lightheaded. It could be a coincidence, certainly, or have nothing to do with Voldemort or his legacy. Malfoy was right: not everyone in the magical world was happy with the ministry. There undoubtedly were–and likely would always be–wizards who still believed in blood purity. It could simply be a series of unconnected dark acts, witches and wizards showing their disapproval of the ministry's actions.
But Hermione knew better. If Draco Malfoy was hearing whispers, if he suspected these to be connected acts, then she wasn't naive enough to write it off. She remembered how it had been when Voldemort was regaining power, and the seemingly separate acts of dark magic told the story of a greater collective effort. The idea of new age Death Eaters organizing sent a shiver down her spine.
Ron seemed to agree, based on the way he was clinging to her shoulder. It might have hurt if she hadn't felt so numb. She raised a hand to lay atop his, and he automatically relinquished his grasp, turning his palm over to hold her hand tightly in his. Draco's eyes flitted to their interlocked fingers, but he said nothing. Hermione looked up at Ron.
"We've got to get Harry," she said. Ron nodded solemnly.
"Yeah, alright."
"So run and grab him, won't you?"
"You're joking, right? I told you, I'm not leaving you alone!" he said, looking even more alarmed than he had before Malfoy had come in. Hermione huffed, but didn't argue.
"Oh, alright, I'll send him a memo." She scribbled a note asking Harry to come to her office immediately, then with a flick of her wand, sent it zooming out of her office.
"What is it that you rowed about?" she asked, once the door shut behind her note. "Perhaps that might give us an idea of the state she was in."
Malfoy rubbed a hand across his face. When he pulled it away, he looked like a completely different man than the boy she'd hated so deeply in school. He looked older, not just like someone who had seen darkness, but one who had recoiled from it and been forced to build up his life around it. The arrogant curl of his lips was absent, replaced with a hard sort of resignation in the set of his mouth.
"It was about my parents," was all he said.
"So you're still defending them, are you?" Ron asked nastily. Hermione ignored him, but Draco glared daggers over her shoulder.
"No, actually. I don't talk to my parents much these days. Astoria was… well, she was put out about it actually. That I hadn't told them about–about–" he broke off.
"About your relationship?" Hermione suggested in a gentle tone. He nodded, and Hermione watched the hard bob of Malfoy's throat as he swallowed.
"Yes. She's got a bit of a strained relationship with her family as well, they're old blood purists, but she still sees them. She can't understand why I refuse to speak to mine. Of course, it was different for her," Malfoy muttered darkly. Though he didn't say exactly what the difference was, they could guess. Hermione had been deeply involved with the prosecution of Death Eaters after the war, giving testimonies and helping identify them. Ron was even more entrenched in the process considering he was responsible for a substantial amount of tracking and arresting those who were still at large. She knew for a fact that the Greengrasses, while nasty, weren't connected with Voldemort. In spite of this, she had no doubt their ideologies aligned with the Death Eaters'. The three of them were quiet, considering what Malfoy had revealed.
"Let's see what Harry has to say," Hermione finally said. Malfoy nodded, averting his gaze. Hermione felt Ron's hand move down her arm, and she raised her own hand to interlock their fingers. They held tight to one another and waited.
Harry Potter was bent over the desk in the Head Auror's office, poring over a map of the wizarding community in Dorset with Georgina Fincher. Her long blonde hair kept obscuring the neighborhood Harry was particularly interested in, and it was difficult to contain his annoyance. He quite liked Georgina: she was a good Auror, she had a sharp mind, and she didn't micromanage Harry, which was possibly his favorite quality of hers. She was also a right laugh, and he had spent many nights at the pub with her, though he and Ron always seemed to end up on the wrong side of pissed while she was no worse for wear. In Harry's opinion, her unrivaled ability to hold her firewhiskey was her greatest flaw. Having been Tonks's protegee prior to the war, she had a special soft spot for Teddy and was always pleased when he visited the office, which made Harry like her right off. A muggleborn, she'd spent the year prior to the battle in hiding in America with her family, so she made a habit of deferring to Harry and the other Auror's expertise on that tumultuous time, which Harry also found quite admirable. All in all, she was an excellent boss if only she didn't have so much bloody hair. What on earth was a top Auror doing with so much hair anyways? Surely it got in the way. Harry imagined Mad-Eye Moody would have had quite a lot to say about the various dangers of long hair in the field, and he very much wished he'd been present to hear his gripes when Georgina had started in the Auror Department.
"Er, Georgina, d'you think you could control your hair a bit?" Harry said. She didn't glance up, but flicked her mane over her left shoulder so Harry's field of vision was clear.
"I might ask you to do the same, Potter," she shot back. Harry snorted.
"Does this look suspect to you?" he asked, pointing to a corner where three streets merged into one. According to their intel, the building had been abandoned for the good part of the year. "Why would such a central location in the middle of town be left empty for so long?"
"Can't be a hide out though, it's too visible," Georgina said, scanning the area around the shop.
"Unless they're hiding in plain sight," Harry suggested. Georgina shook her head.
"It could be just as likely our source is out of date. We'll send a team to investigate, collect our own information. Who's available?" Harry thought, scratching the back of his head. He noticed Georgina's eyes flicked up to his hair and the corner of her mouth quirked in a smirk. He must've mussed it even more.
"Reckon Susan Bones might be the best fit. She's got a strong team with nothing pressing on at the moment. Or we could send a pair out. Sienna Brown could use the field experience, and we could send her with Rowan Prescott or perhaps Florence O'Brien. Prescott has spent more time in the field, but O'Brien has more natural skill." Georgina considered.
"Prescott is on Weasley's team, right?" At Harry's nod, she continued. "Send Prescott with Sienna Brown, and assign O'Brien to Weasley. If she works well with them, I might make the transfer permanent. Go ahead and give the assignments, I want Brown and Prescott out by tonight at the latest."
"Right away, Madam Fincher," Harry said, grinning. Georgina scowled darkly at him, detesting the honorific.
"You call me madam again and I'll hex you straight to a different department," she hissed. Harry laughed.
"Your mother-in-law's sent me a note," Georgina said. "She invited me to Ginny's shower next week." Harry nodded.
"Yeah, it's a bit early on, but Molly's fussing is driving Ginny round the bend, so she's given in. If you come, promise you'll tell Ginny that you can't even tell she's pregnant. And don't bring a gift, we haven't got anywhere to put more stuff and I'm not keen to spend the next three months living in a rat maze."
"I don't know why not, you need to work on your stealth and tracking anyways. Your last recertification score was abysmal, and I know Longbottom fudged your time. You're going soft in your old age, Potter."
"Oi," Harry protested. "I'd just got back from a five day raid, I was tired!" She waved a dismissive hand at him.
"Go on and get out of my office before I sack you. I don't care if you are the Ministry's golden boy. And for merlin's sake, get some of that paperwork done, I'm sick of looking at the lot." He rolled his eyes, but knew her criticism was good natured.
After giving orders to the Aurors involved, Harry sat at his desk to while away at the stack of paperwork that stood so tall it obscured him from view. It was times like this that he bitterly regretted that Hermione had not accepted an Auror post and that he had to do his own work instead of copying off her.
As he was thinking this, a stiff bit of parchment poked him hard on the side of the head, knocking his glasses askew. He instinctively raised his hand to grab at it, and his fingers closed around the seal where the Magical Law Enforcement crest was engraved in green wax.
Harry, it read. Come to my office as soon as you get this, I need to speak with you at once. Hermione.
Pleased at any excuse to put off paperwork, but slightly apprehensive at the ominous note, Harry stood from his desk abruptly.
When he got to Hermione's office, a short, frail looking woman launched herself between him and the door. Harry jumped back in surprise at her sudden appearance.
"Have you got an appointment? Miss Granger is very busy!" she cried before Harry had a chance to say a word.
"Er, no, but–"
"Then you can't go in! She's in a meeting." She stretched out her arms to block Harry from entering, as if he, a fit twenty-two year old Auror who took down the darkest wizard of all time, couldn't cast aside this witch who looked about a hundred and didn't weigh more than seven stone. In spite of this, the fierce expression on her face did frighten Harry a bit.
"Hermione sent me a memo asking me to come at once," he explained, unsure what to do if this woman wouldn't let him through. He certainly wouldn't push her aside, yet Hermione's note had seemed urgent. While he was faltering under the woman's glare, the door opened behind her, revealing Ron.
"Oi, d'you mind?" he asked, casting a glare at the old woman who had turned to look at who opened the door. Based on the black looks they cast each other, Harry guessed she and Ron weren't friends.
"Don't you know who this is?" Ron continued, gesturing at Harry. "He's only the bloody savior of the wizarding world."
"What is it, Ron?" Harry heard Hermione call.
"Nothing," he yelled over his shoulder. "Just the dragon lady out here about to duel Harry."
"Ron!" she cried, sounding horrified. "Stop acting so childish and bring Harry in here!" Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who grinned. If Ron and Hermione were bickering, there at least wasn't immediate danger.
"You heard her," Ron said to the woman, who was glowering more furiously than before. "Budge over." She stood aside, though it obviously gave her no pleasure. Although Harry had faced many monsters unflinchingly throughout his life, he gave this woman a wide berth. He might be brave, but he wasn't stupid.
"Brace yourself, mate," Ron muttered, which was the only warning he got for the sight that greeted him.
Lounging stiffly across from Hermione, silver robes pooled around his feet, with an expression that looked as if he'd just smelled something foul, was Draco Malfoy. Instinctively, Harry extended an arm in Hermione's direction, as if to protect her from this sudden threat. His mind didn't register that she had obviously already been in Malfoy's presence before Harry appeared, and that of course this must have been the reason she'd summoned him in the first place. All he could think of was Hermione's trembling voice as she recounted her torture in front of the Wizengamot, while an uncharacteristically disheveled Draco Malfoy sat across from her and avoided looking anyone in the eye. He thought of Malfoy averting his gaze as Bellatrix held a knife to Hermione's throat. He thought of all the terrible, cruel things that Malfoy had looked away from, and hatred burned hot in his belly.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he spat, advancing. Ron grabbed him by the arm, jerking him to a stop. He glowered at Malfoy.
Harry had only seen Malfoy once since the trial, where he had evaded justice because of Harry's own testimony. Years later, and he still felt sick when he thought of it, though he knew it was the right thing to do. It was a dark time in his life: Ron not speaking to him, Ginny still livid at being left behind, and Hermione as fragile as he'd ever seen her. He had nowhere to go and nothing to do, yet his job was not finished, and he had poured himself into sorting out the disaster left in the wake of Voldemort's downfall. It had felt like the world was falling apart just as spectacularly as it had when Voldemort had been in power, and Harry was just waiting for the day he was crushed under the rubble.
Things had sorted themselves out though. Ginny had eventually started speaking to him warmly again. He and Ron suffered so much during their accelerated Auror training that it was impossible to stay angry with each other. Hermione retrieved her parents and went back to Hogwarts. Harry had been one of the instrumental figures in redesigning the Auror program and bringing so many of Voldemort's supporters to justice.
Now five years later, he and Ginny were married with a baby on the way. Ron and Hermione were as happy as he could remember them. And his career was flourishing. Two years ago, he was ducking in and out of shops in Diagon Alley, tailing a potential dark wizard, when he saw Draco Malfoy through the window of his shop. It was an unassuming, noncommittal building, unnamed save for the sign that advertised "Finest potion-making supplies for beginners up to masters!" Harry would have recognized the pointed nose below sleek white blonde hair anywhere.
Just as it had then, Harry's old hatred reignited, blazing hot and dangerous at the sight of Draco Malfoy.
"Harry," Hermione said, standing and tugging on the sleeve of his robe. He glanced her way, finally tearing his gaze from Malfoy. "Malfoy's just told us something I think you'll want to hear."
"I don't want to hear anything he has to say," Harry said.
"Harry, please, just listen," Hermione said. Harry glanced over at her, then met Ron's gaze above her head. He nodded. Harry sighed.
"Fine," he said to Hermione. "He's got five minutes."
True to his word, Harry listened without interrupting as Malfoy repeated what he'd told Ron and Hermione. He explained about Astoria's disappearance, the disapproval of the ministry, and rumors about resurgence of dark magic. When he got to his suspicions about a dark wizard rising to power, Harry had heard enough.
"Voldemort's dead. There's no bringing him back this time," Harry said flatly, casting Malfoy a look filled with condescension. Malfoy glowered.
"It's not him! I know he's dead, I'm glad of it. But I'm telling you: there's something going on. Something dark." Malfoy paused, then continued in a whisper. "Even if You-Know-Who is gone, his followers aren't, and they're the ones who are rising up."
Harry stared at him through narrowed eyes. Malfoy returned his gaze defiantly.
"Let's see it then," Harry finally said, not bothering to hide his impatience.
"See what?" Draco asked.
"Your arm. Come on, we haven't got all day. You've asked for our help, and we need to know what we're dealing with. Either show us your dark mark so we know if he's come back, or get out," Harry said, his voice rising with his barely repressed rage.
"Harry—" began Hermione, but Malfoy was already pulling up his sleeve.
The dark mark was a faded relic of its former glory. The skin around it was puckered as if it too had shriveled up along with Voldemort's power. Once a vivid red, it had faded to the dull brown of a scar, yet it was still bold against Draco Malfoy's pale skin. It was the white of an arm that never saw daylight.
"So it isn't Voldemort," Harry confirmed, looking up from the mark. Malfoy shook his sleeve back down.
"I told you it wasn't," he said, nearly sneering. "You lot think the world's divided into Death Eaters and people like you. You think just because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gone that there aren't other dark wizards out there? Or people who support them? People who maybe don't fancy this new world you've created, who still believe in the old ways. There's quite a lot of witches and wizards who would be happy to see things go back to how they were before You-Know-Who was defeated. And they don't need the Dark Lord for that either, any old powerful wizard will do."
"Of course we know that," Hermione said.
"Do you?" Malfoy asked. "Then why aren't you doing anything! I'm telling you, just because Voldemort's gone, his supporters aren't!"
Silence reverberated in the wake of Malfoys outburst. Harry couldn't remember ever hearing Malfoy speak Voldemort's name; even in death, the name still struck fear into the hearts of many wizards. This, above all, was what made him lose some of his doubt and regard Malfoy more closely, searching his expression. He looked desperate, but not dishonest.
"Alright, fine. Say a dark wizard is rising."
"I'm telling you–" Malfoy interrupted crossly. Harry raised a frustrated hand and raked it through his hair.
"Just shut up for a second, will you?! Now say a dark wizard is rising. How do you know Astoria's gone missing? Or that it's the work of dark magic? There are a lot of explanations for why she might not be around and my mind doesn't immediately jump to that, even in the instance of foul play. And as you can imagine, I'm prone to suspicion as an Auror."
Malfoy looked as angry as Harry had ever seen him. He glowered, his expression filled with hate, as he answered.
"You may be the darling of the wizarding world, Potter, but you don't know everything. Astoria would never just disappear like this. Even if she wasn't speaking to me, she would still see her family, her patients–" he broke off, looking more worried than he had all afternoon. Hermione shot Harry a chastising look, which he ignored.
"What about the other healers? Haven't they seen her?" Harry asked. Malfoy looked as if he might hit him.
"No one's seen her, that's what I'm trying to tell you!" he shouted. Hermione held out a placating hand, obviously sensing the building tension between them. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron shift closer to Hermione.
"Malfoy please," she said, then turned to Harry. "She's a midwitch, not a healer."
At his blank look, Hermione continued.
"She attends home births. Harry, it's not like the muggle world, magical babies are rarely born at St Mungo's. Most women have them at home with a midwitch. I thought you'd know that with Ginny—"
"Yeah, course I do. I wasn't thinking," he said. The truth was, Harry had no idea that witches didn't give birth in hospital. Having grown up in completely different backgrounds, he and Ginny frequently had no idea when they weren't on the same page about something done differently by muggles and wizards. Now that he thought about it, they hadn't discussed the birth hardly at all. She was still in her second trimester, so it seemed ages away to Harry, and Ginny didn't seem particularly concerned about it, so neither was he. What limited knowledge Harry had about pregnancy and childbirth in the muggle world was apparently obsolete in the magical world, which he really should have guessed. The familiar feeling of anxiety blossomed in his chest; his baby wasn't even born yet and already he was a rubbish dad. Hermione shot him a concerned look, which Harry ignored. Nothing would make him feel worse at the moment than Hermione's shock at how ill-prepared he was for fatherhood.
"She doesn't go to St Mungos unless one of her patients has a complication. She hasn't got any patients there right now," Draco said. "Funny thing is, she handed off two of her patients to another midwitch. They're due in the next month. She would never do that, she's passionate about her work and she gets very connected with her patients. She wouldn't ever not see a woman through till the end unless she was forced to.
"She isn't like her family. Astoria's very outspoken against blood supremacy. She believes in the rights of muggles and muggleborns and everything you lot have been doing here at the ministry. Her family has had a falling out with her about it, and I'm afraid-well, she and I both are traitors to the cause. I don't expect You-Know-Who's followers would be very sympathetic to either of us, and targeting Astoria is a way to punish us both."
Hermione and Harry shared a look. He was still skeptical of Malfoy's greater assertions about dark magic, but he was coming round to the idea that perhaps Astoria Greengrass hadn't disappeared of her own volition. He glanced up at Ron, who looked concerned, and Harry came to a decision.
"Alright," he said. "We'll look into it." Malfoy's mouth curled in an arrogant grimace.
"I don't want some halfwit just out of Hogwarts looking into it—"
"Ron and I will do it ourselves," Harry interrupted crossly. Who was Malfoy to sit there and order him around? Malfoy, who wanted Harry of all people to do him a favor. With great effort, Harry managed to control his temper, though he wanted nothing more than to shout at Malfoy that he could do it himself if he didn't trust the Auror Department. But it wasn't Astoria Greengrass's fault Malfoy was such a great git, and all this talk of babies and births and midwitches made him think of Ginny. His temper deflated.
"But you've got to do us a favor as well," he continued.
"Anything," Malfoy said at once. Taken aback by his acquiescence, Harry ignored the urge to come up with a ludicrous request. He found himself more convinced by Malfoy's desperation for Harry's help than anything else he'd said thus far, and he knew this was the right move.
"You've got to help us out with the investigation. Talk to your contacts, try to get some information. Find out anything you can about any dark wizards, even if it's just rumors. Listen to what you hear in your shop and in Knockturn Alley if you can. And write to your old school friends, see what they know." Malfoy looked strained, and he rubbed a hand down his face.
"Of course I'll do it. But I don't have the connections I used to, not like before."
"Before you stabbed all of them in the back, you mean," Ron said. Malfoy nodded solemnly.
"Still," Hermione said. "We haven't got the same resources Malfoy does. It makes much more sense if we work together to find a solution. Even if he doesn't hear anything more, at least we'll have tried." Harry nodded.
"Exactly. Right then." He turned to Malfoy. "We'll get to work on it. It will take us a bit to get started, but I'll send you an owl when I get the chance. If you hear anything else, send me and Hermione a note immediately. She'll know how to get a hold of Ron and me in case we're out." Malfoy nodded.
With instructions and a plan in place, Malfoy left without another word. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched him go in silence. None of them bothered with the pretense of saying goodbye.
After Malfoy left, Harry turned to his two best friends.
"What do you reckon?" he asked.
"I dunno, mate," Ron said. "Bit spooky, innit? All these things happening together."
"So Malfoy says," Harry replied. "All we know has happened is Benedict Nott has gone missing and someone's kidnapped an infant."
"And Astoria Greengrass?" Hermione asked. Harry shrugged indifferently. He hadn't ruled out foul play altogether, but he certainly wasn't convinced of a dark force at work.
"All that proves is Malfoy's got into a fight with his girlfriend. It's hardly proof of dark magic."
"Since when are you so skeptical?" Hermione asked waspishly. "Usually you're the one Ron and I have to reign in with your theories!" Harry stared at her a moment before answering.
"Look, I know it's scary to hear from a former Death Eater that they're coming back. But don't you think the Auror Department would have that intelligence? Well before Malfoy, surely, since he's fallen out of favor with that crowd. I don't see any of Voldemort's allies looking on him too kindly after he slipped out of Azkaban." Ron frowned, opening his mouth, and Hermione knew he was going to point out just exactly how he had 'slipped out of Azkaban,' and that it had been because of Harry. Hermione laid a hand on his arm, shooting him a look. He closed his mouth.
"I reckon Voldemort's supporters are always gonna be looking for a new dark wizard. Before Voldemort, it was Grindelwald, before him some other bloke–"
"Fyodor Minsk," Hermione interjected.
"Exactly," Harry said, nodding. "There will always be someone, so we've just got to keep our wits about us. Now if the Death Eaters really are organizing, that's different, but I don't see how they could; most of them are still locked up in Azkaban, or else they're like the Malfoys and are too scared to cause a fuss."
"You've told him you'll look into it," Hermione reminded him.
"I will," Harry said. "But only to prove that Malfoy's being paranoid. We'll see what Georgina thinks about it all, but I doubt that Malfoy knows anything more than she does."
"Yeah," Ron said, looking less worried. "You've got a point. If Georgina isn't worried, then I'm not either. And I don't much care about Malfoy's girlfriend chucking him." Hermione frowned.
"I think it's suspicious that Astoria Greengrass has disappeared. Perhaps it's got nothing to do with dark magic, but I don't believe Malfoy would have come to us for help if he wasn't convinced something has happened to her." Harry and Ron didn't have a response to that. Harry had seen that level of desperation in Malfoy once before: when he was chosen to murder Dumbledore. It wasn't a good sign that it had resurfaced.
"S'pose you're right," Ron said to Hermione, and Harry nodded his agreement.
Though still skeptical about the rumors of dark magic, one thing was certain: something had happened to Astoria Greengrass, and Harry was going to find out what.
