Chapter 24: Draco's Task

Draco slammed a thinning fist on his desk as he read the request outlined in the last paragraph of a heavily redacted memo. He turned and glared across the Ministry atrium, willing the slight figure in the Minister's office- he personally rejected calling her a proper Minister- to feel a small bit of his frustration. He could see her actually- her hair over the last few months had returned to a bushiness he'd only seen pre-Yule Ball, when her girly peers had finally taken pity on their know-it-all classmate who had much to learn about the wonders of wizarding self-care products. But he tried not to remember that year; the year the Dark Lord had been reborn, and his father unceremoniously thrown from the top of his social circle. Gingerly, he rubbed his forearm, remembering the burning tattoo he so willingly submitted his hopes and dreams to.

He sat back in his desk to cool off, glancing at the paperweight etched with his professional title 'Draco Lucius Malfoy: Department Head of Magical Zoning and Enchantments.' He sighed. In another life, he'd probably chastise a person of his standing for being so ungrateful and entitled, expecting offensively more than his position suggested he'd should know about sensitive Ministry affairs. There was nothing inappropriate regarding Hermione's treatment of him- he'd been given enough information to make the proper recommendations for invisibility and anti-detection spells. Still, the blackened gaps that ran over the entirety of the paper, preventing him from seeing the big picture of it all, was only too symbolic to not be taken personally.

All his life, Lucius had drummed the same basic truth into his son: Old magic was better magic. And perhaps, Draco thought, because of some odd lack of childhood curiosity or (more likely) his worshipful reverence to his father, he had never bothered to ask 'why?' It felt good to be special and informed; to know who was worth to befriend, support, and marry. Of course, the Malfoys had always been more intelligent than their zealot pureblood counterparts; established Half-bloods were perfectly fine. Instead of confining their choices to an ever-shrinking island of unstable lineages, they instead only had to exclude a certain type of magic- the mudblood.

Even in the echos of his thoughts, Draco jerked involuntarily at the word. He hated that every time the mention of a muggleborn passed in conversation, the utterance would bubble up in the back of his mind, reminding him of its nauseating primacy and permanence. How old had he been when he finally realized the weight of the prejudice he swung when muttering that horrible slur? Or when he realized the unspoken rules of ancestry were hardly useful in discerning ordinary wizard from great? The Pillars of his adolescence had turned out to be nothing but the paltry sentence here or there, against the backdrop of a heavily blotted out reality. But ignorant to all that was being excluded, he had chosen to build his house upon them.

Ignorance could be the sin of someone innocently foolish, but Draco was honest enough to admit his ignorance was borne out of something much more knowledgeably conniving. Even as a student, he had figured out that his situation offered him certain advantages, especially among his Slytherin peers. Status. Trust. The benefit of the doubt. Plus, his mother had tutored him well enough that he arrived with a working knowledge of magic that put him at the forefront of his classes.

But never first. That coveted position had always belonged to a distinctly annoying girl boasting dentists for parents. Draco had almost choked from laughing when he figured out what exactly the muggle profession of dentistry entailed given Hermione's obtuse front teeth. And that was considered a highly educated position in the non-magical world; He had sneered thinking about all those years of schooling to replicate a specialized shrinking and shifting charm most students mastered before their O.W.L.s.

And yet, despite the utter lack of experience or understanding, Hermione had almost instantly rocketed to the top of every class and stubbornly held on for six long years. If only eleven-year-old Draco had seen her talent as a clue that his simplistic views were only easy because they were sorely incomplete. Instead, she was an aberration- a threat- something unnatural that was trying to weasel its way into a society that wasn't hers to command. Well, Draco thought sardonically as he turned again toward the Minister's Office, he still didn't think she truly deserved to be in command, but not because of any notion about her heritage.

He knew the exact moment his censored world had started to crumble, revealing the tangible horror he helped unleash. It had been high in the Astronomy Tower on the night of his greatest victory. He, a mere pre-N.E.W.T. student, had been able to penetrate the fortress of his school undetected, using his creativity and skill to hoodwink one of the most famously powerful wizards of all time. And then he watched that man, Albus Dumbledore, disarmed by his basic spell, beg as the beam of green light jettisoned from Professor Snape's wand. He didn't remember running from the school, but soon he was past the grounds and anti-apparition protections, the smell of smoke from the gamekeeper's hut burning his nostrils. His companions had warped into the air, but he kept sprinting, afraid to let his mind refocus on what he'd just witnessed. Bounding into an offshoot of the Forbidden Forest, he was promptly grounded by a wicked blow to the head by some thorny, low branches. His vision swam and procured an image of half-moon spectacles and kind blue eyes… He vomited and when he could no longer do so, dry heaved until his throat and lungs were raw. Snape had found him and knelt with him, his black eyes studying him clerically.

"I…I couldn't do it," He gasped, "I didn't want to and… and he knew."

He suddenly tensed as his teacher drew his head towards him, hoping he hadn't said too much. Snape regarded him impassively, scanning his bruised face. Finally, he helped Draco stand, and backed away slightly.

"We're going to make it look like you tried." And his face almost looked kind as he drew his wand and slashed it purposefully. Draco realized milliseconds before new sensations of pain broke through his right arm and hand what Snape had meant. Reflexively he dropped his wand and felt a new wave of nausea as he glimpsed at the mangled mess of his limb. It was as if a serpent had crawled beneath his skin and distorted everything that lay deep in the tissue. His professor seemed impressed that he wasn't screaming.

"Don't vomit in front of the Dark Lord." He warned before gripping Draco and apparating.

"Oh my." Draco stared hard at spot in front of him as he willed his stomach to settle. Snape had taken him directly to Voldemort, who had found it quite comfortable in the Malfoy's summer home. "He actually cursed the boy? I didn't know the old fool had it in him."

Draco winced as he felt the deathly coldness of Voldemort's fingers gliding over his twisted hand, "Well now, let's see. How interesting- a nasty old curse I might say. I believe created by Grindlewald, perhaps with his help, so I suppose he does have style…Vitis Excilium!"

"OH!" Draco gasped and cradled his arm, but he could see that the deforming bundle was receding and his anatomy recovering, "Tha-thank you, my Lord."

"Ah so polite," Voldemort mused in his high-pitched tone, "It does one well to flatter their superiors. But something that is worth even more is completing the tasks so generously granted."

Draco held his breath as the dark wizard's voice frosted over in dismay. He felt Snape shift beside him, "My Lord, he is dead."

"Dead?" Voldemort questioned.

"By my hand." Snape replied smoothly, "and of course Mr. Malfoy was able to breach that fortress with every Death Eater requested. He then foolishly pursued the Headmaster and was stopped, after which I realized what his plan might be and completed the job. It was quite vexing I might add, for I knew he'd been granted some sort of task, but he failed to confide in anyone, even me."

Draco regretted every snark he'd thrown at his professor that past year in those moments. Voldemort gazed at him, his red eyes delightedly keen, "This is pleasing to hear. Your father might learn to follow your lead when it comes to spilling secrets."

And then he was gone, leaving Draco alive and baffled as he turned to face his counterpart. Snape looked calm as he gazed around the room they were in, his eyes alighting on the various ornate trinkets, the best finds from Borgin and Burke. "Now as long as your dear Aunt doesn't try to complain about your performance, as I suspect she will not if only to preserve her sister's greatest treasure." He sneered lightly, "You should, for the moment, consider yourself and your family redeemed."

Draco was grateful enough to ignore the mockery and simply nod his thanks. Snape appraised him, "It was utterly thoughtless what you volunteered to do this year and keeping it to yourself. This success was nothing more than luck- I hope this much is clear to you."

Draco was tired. He wanted to find his mother and owl and pretend that he was waiting for his father to arrive from work. Still, his professor clearly had more to say.

"Draco, it's very important that stay informed about the tasks granted to you- every detail." He continued, coldly," The worst thing you can possibly do is agree to something you do not understand, or you will find that you just might cross a line that does not allow you to come back ever again."

Draco looked at Snape, there was no space in his brain to even begin to comprehend that riddle.

"Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes professor. I understand."

Snape lashed out, grasping Draco's robes and dragging him near his hard, porcelain face, "No you don't you stupid boy! You couldn't. Ever."

Draco thought of those cryptic words when the bloated face of Harry Potter was thrust towards him months later. But far from crossing the edges of humanity, his cowardness had enraged Voldemort to such a degree that should his next mission fail, he'd personally see the dispatchment of his parents in a way more degrading than his muggle studies professor.

"If you do not deliver that boy to me, alive, I think it would be less painful if you lost your life in the fray than continued on with me." His ember slits gleamed ferociously as Draco watched his father writhe under his Cruciatus Curse, "Now go get your mother…"

Draco jolted in his office chair, and again when we saw the time. The edges of his vision were fuzzy and he suspected his eyes looked tired and red. Hermione would be expecting his answer on the clearance of the enchantments soon. He began scribbling notes within the margins; questions about the specific conditions that might warrant this charm over another. He doubted they'd be answered but it was his job to be thorough.

Although he was running late, Draco was surprised when he heard a knock on his office door and Hermione poked her head in. She looked flustered, as if she'd just ran through the entire Ministry.

"I've just about finished; I didn't realize this was of such high priority."

"What? Oh, yes that." Hermione glanced dismissively at the memo, "No I've come with another request of…your expertise."

Draco raised an eyebrow and set the red-scribbled papers to the side. He waited for his counterpart to continue. Hermione almost look as if she regretted her proposition, clearing her throat and shuffling her boots unsteadily. It was only the hope of knowing an ounce more information about whatever had upended the Ministry's leadership that kept his manners in check of his patience. Finally, Hermione settled, "Well, I think it would be best if I just showed you what we've found."

Draco expected her to procure another (hopefully less redacted) file of evidence from her person, but instead, she simply disappeared out of his office, and he was forced to quickly stack his papers in order before rushing out to follow. As the two waited for the elevators, they glanced uncomfortably at one another as they ran through topics of small talk that wouldn't become too awkward.

"How's Scorpius liked school?"

"Don't act like you don't know what its been like." Draco snapped, though he softened, "It's gotten better though, McGonagall is at least trying…"

Hermione nodded but seemed a little put out. She pressed the 'Down' Button a few times before bring her arms stiffly to her sides. Draco sighed, supposing it was his turn to return the civility, "Does, Rose have a favorite class… or does she like everything?'

Hermione smirked, "I didn't like everything Draco."

"You liked it enough to beat me in everything."

Hermione glanced at her pale colleague peculiarly, "I never tried to beat you at anything. I never tried to beat anyone really."

Draco cocked his head, "Then why did you study so hard? You probably read more books than the rest of your year combined."

The elevator door opened to an empty carriage and the two stepped inside. Hermione shrugged as she selected the second-lowest level. "I guess I just liked it all so much," she started, "I mean I went from not knowing how to sew the holes in my clothes to being able to fix basically anything just by a few spells. It was unreal and all I had to do was read about it and try. It was, well it actually was just magical."

A small grin crossed Hermione's face and Draco couldn't help but imagine her as she strode through Diagon Alley for the first time. He'd seen that look on his son's friend Jeya, when he offered to take her school shopping, basically having to peel her off the store windows bubbling with potions and charmed objects and fantastic creatures. "Yeah, I supposed I don't know just how exhilarating it feels to discover… that."

The doors opened to the eerie space that made Draco remember that this floor only held one destination: The Department of Mysteries. He lapsed into curious silence as Hermione strode toward the plain black door at the end of the hall. He had never been inside the Department before, and jumped as he entered the main chamber, for the doors around the wall now scrambled, completely losing his sense of direction. "How do we get out now?"

Hermione smirked, "We just ask."

She checked a few of the doors before beckoning him to follow through a small metal frame that looked as though it had deflected many curses throughout its existence. The room behind was very odd. Draco found himself standing on a small platform many feet above the floor, which was made of large, smooth rocks. In the center of the room, the neatness of the stone rose into a more organic platform, like the rocky scalp of a mesa, and from that, a thin stone archway further jutted out. The room was silent except for the whispering of a tattered sheet that fluttered in the arch, despite no possible source of wind. Hermione quickly descended into the room, staying close to the outer edges.

"I don't like this room very much," She offered, averting her gaze to the one attraction in the space. "But we've been storing captured artifacts in the laboratory here…"

Draco had suddenly realized the likely source of Hermione's discomfort. The rags hanging from the archway were definitely moving, but the whispers were more than rippling threads.

He heard a voice. One that he did not think he would recognize, because it had been from a very long time ago and he did not believe it was possible to hear again.

"It's best if we keep moving." Hermione eyed her colleague uneasily.

But Draco was becoming transfixed by the voice. It was talking animatedly, but not to him. Rather, it was like the way an old friend's voice might drift from the din of a crowded pub. And it was an old friend. Draco turned to Hermione, "I can hear Crabbe."

Hermione nodded, "It's normal. The first time we came here, I didn't hear anything. But now I hear a lot of people… Lavender Brown, Scrimgeour, Fred…" She drifted off, "And sometimes others too. I… didn't know him personally, but I believe it belongs to a Snatcher that pursued us"

Just as he saw Hermione tremble slightly, another voice layered the whispers, one quite less welcome. "Lets go." He stated, abruptly. Hermione peered at him, almost excitedly, "Who did you hear?"

"I… It sounded like my aunt, Bellatrix."

"Oh." She turned, leaving Draco with the feeling that he'd disappointed her.

They entered a door at the floor level of the chamber, which contrasting to the Archway room, was rather claustrophobic. The ceilings were still high, but stuff had been crammed right to it, and it all looked rather dusty. Taking a closer look at the items, Draco felt a sort of familiarity with the whole atmosphere. He came upon a trio of shrunken heads preserved in a slimy lime liquid and put the pieces together. "These used to be in Borgin and Burke's."

Hermione nodded, "The room back there, it's the Room of Death. When we confiscated some of the more…concerning items from that shop, a lot of them were of great interest to the Unspeakables specializing in this field, not surprisingly I suppose." She ended flatly and Draco wondered if she knew just how close the shop owners had once been with his family.

"The thing I brought you here for was in that shop actually," Hermione led him through the maze of items to a rather bulky mass, covered with a cloth. Draco already knew what lay underneath and his stomach started to feel queasy.

"It seems like the connection is still mostly there," Hermione opened the door of the Vanishing Cabinet and Draco saw a spattering of wine bottles on its floor. Some were cracked, but it was clearly from colliding with one another upon arrival. "We haven't tested the human transport abilities." She closed the door and faced him.

Draco was at a loss, "I don't know what you want from me with this…" He gestured to the awful design that had dragged him to his lowest moment. "I don't use these regularly you know."

"Much like most people alive today-and even fewer since this last war" Hermione studied Draco's reaction carefully, "In your testimony, you mentioned the phrase "the twin" when describing the connection between this cabinet and the one at Hogwarts. I wanted to know if that is an inflexible part of the design, if you have any guess based off your knowledge."

Draco looked at her, bewildered, "Inflexible? Like you mean could it be trained to travel to many destinations? What are you planning?"

But Hermione ignored his question, awaiting a reply. Draco scrounged the vestiges of his mind to the research he'd done during his sixth year. "They're made as pairs so that's why there's only been one connection, but…" He thought back to a rather old theory text, "It's possible that one of the cabinets could be rendered as an endpoint without making the connections too unstable."

"What do you mean by unstable? What determines that?" Hermione clearly liked the chances of his dubious comment.

Draco knotted his brows, remembering, "The way these things work is like apparition, but you don't have your mind to guide you. The connection is held with some charms between the cabinets and replaces the need for you to imagine your destination, as mistakes can be made if you're in a hurry." He paused, "Since the connections are two-way, each is charmed with the destination of the other and so the mechanism only has one option to act upon when you enter. But when you add more destinations, the charms don't allow you to really have good control on the choice of the destinations- they have enough mind of their own…"

Hermione looked entranced, "So you might just end up getting shot into the wrong place then?"

"Not just that, since the cabinets sort of share a consciousness, they create an artificial relationship between their programed destinations. For a twin set, that means a line, but with just one more you see…" Draco drew out the connections between three points with this wand, outlining a glowing triangle, "And while you can get stuck on the line between here and there, with three, you can end up anywhere in here" He highlighted the area of the shape, "And its very hard to locate someone who gets stuck here as the space they create doesn't necessarily fit into reality the way the edges do…add more points and the area just gets more complex, three dimensional even." He illustrated his point and let the figure warp.

After finishing his explanation, Draco took a moment to bask in the complete dumbfoundedness evident on the young Minister's face. He doubted he'd ever see it again. But it only took a few more seconds for Hermione to rebound and soon he could discern the calculations invisibly running across her vision.

"So all this," She gestured to the pulsing diagram between them, "This space created between the destinations, it's an emergent property of the reciprocity correct?"

"How do you mean?" Draco implored.

"The fictional area- it comes only when every cabinet can go to every other one and vice versa."

"Yes." Draco caught her line of thought, "I mean it would definitely be more feasible to create a chain of one-way connections. But its just not practical because you can still be randomly brought back to your former destination instead of onward."

"mhmmm." Hermione nodded, "Okay, but what about this paradigm…" She broke the connections between the dots, obliviating the glowing area, and rewired all of them to a central point, "Many connections, unidirectional, all coalescing on a single cabinet we'll call the 'final destination'. That way, only one has to hold more than one destination in it's 'consciousness' or whatever you called it, but it doesn't actually have to choose between them, since it will only receive people… from all of these."

Draco observed the schematic, "Sure, I suppose that definitely minimizes the bigger glitches. In theory that seems sound, I mean I'm guessing that something like this hasn't been tried because it's not particularly practical… unless someone owns many homes and wants a route from all of them- you'd have to track back to any destination via something else though. Yeah, I just don't see why this would be useful long term."

But Hermione didn't seem fazed by the impractical design, "How many destinations do you think we could link up this way?"

Draco ran his hand through his hair as he blew a breath sharply, "Hermione I honestly don't know. These things, they're usually handmade and the charms can differ slightly, the temperament. There's a lot of lemons."

"What about the one in Hogwarts?" Hermione inquired.

"These two are particularly well-made, but I still feel like the only way to know its capacity is to try to add the links themselves. There's indications when a connection is accepted." He paused, remembering something important, "But wasn't it in the room when…" He drifted off as the tones of Vincent Crabbe reverberated in his mind.

Hermione picked up an empty bottle near the Cabinet's feet. "I have a personal account that it survived and, as demonstrated as recently as last month, is functional- complements of Hogwarts's great Seer." She wrinkled her nose, "Now I can say that was a class I most certainly did not enjoy."

Despite himself, Draco chuckled, "I couldn't believe it when I saw they'd moved it to the first-year schedule. Scorpius told me she saw 'A burning lake and forbidden love,' in his future- didn't say whether they were related to each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Incredible."

Draco took the bottle from her and spun it in his hands, "So this cabinet in Hogwarts is the 'final destination'- if this theory is stable. And you want what?"

"Nine." Said Hermione

Draco looked taken aback, "Okay, you want nine- where did you get number?"

"My contact has managed to procure four other sets- I'd like to maximize the options."

Draco paused again, "So you're not making your own I take it."

Hermione winced slightly, "If we were to make new ones, they would have to be registered as active with the Ministry… and other governing bodies should they… travel abroad."

Draco was fairly certain information like that probably belonged somewhere under blacked out lines and considered it a small victory towards the truth. But he didn't want to press his luck too far, "Okay," he drew out his suspicion noticeably and acknowledged Hermione's discomfort, "Is that all you require of me then."

"No, actually," Hermione turned to refit the sheet back atop the cabinet, "Given what you said to me today, I'm pleasantly hopeful about this theory and… I'm wondering if you were willing to experiment with the cabinets and see how easily this can be adapted in practice."

"You want me to create this network? Under who's authority?" Draco followed Hermione as she wove her way through the room towards the chamber with the arch.

"Consider it an independent project, off the books." Hermione replied evasively, she turned abruptly, "If you had to start this project this very moment, what are the first three things you'd do."

Draco blinked, "I'd first decode the charms and separate the dependencies from the autonomous parts of the spells. Then I'd try to see what types of links are needed to alter the use to your design. Then I'd troubleshoot the kinks which I wouldn't know until I put some objects inside and saw their state on the other end."

"And spell-wise, you think you're capable?" Hermione eyed the crooked wand held at Draco's waist. He clasped it protectively, "I've felt how she works, don't worry."

"Well, then I suppose you only have to accept the job then." Hermione calmed her visage, but Draco could tell his answer was of utmost importance. It was still frustrating, how little he knew about the overarching plan, but he'd put his faith in wizards with much less moral fiber than the one standing before him, inexperienced as she was as a Minister.

"Yes, I'll see if I can make this possible."

She certainly didn't try to hide her relief, "Good, Draco- this is very good." Her eyes almost giddy with the prospect.

She opened the door and Draco could feel his excitement wane slightly as the whispers returned. "Hermione," He uttered quietly, the low sounds making normal conversation feel loud and misplaced, "Who did you think I might hear?"

Hermione looked reluctant to respond, "We guessed the Veil," she gestured at the waving sheets inside the arch, "sort of tuned into prominent people in our past, where their death was significant or experienced very intimately- friend or foe."

She turned, "I've heard Bellatrix too." Unconsciously touching her arm where Draco knew his aunt had carved that horrible word.

"Other Death Eaters- Yaxley. Neville hears the Carrows… but no one has heard Him."

"Oh," Draco understood what she was asking. Even within the confines of his mind he could conjure a memory of that high, cold, voice that sent shivers down his spine. But as he listened in the chamber, he could hear nothing of the sort, "Sorry no, I… I would know if I heard him."

Hermione nodded and shrugged, "It's alright, none of us that tried have ever either."

"Even Potter?" Draco ventured. Didn't Harry's scar burn at the mere scrap of Voldemort's existence at one point?

"No," Hermione sighed, sadly, "But we only brought him down once and, well, he couldn't stay for long."

Recognizing Draco's confusion, she stated, simply "He said it was too loud."

Draco thought about his schoolyard nemesis as he finished his notes on the memo before heading home. He realized long ago that if he truly wanted to live a life where he understood the consequences of his actions, he needed empathy. It had been difficult with muggleborns but helping Jeya had been a blessing in disguise. He felt in his bones just how deep that prejudice needed to be buried and was willing to recant any past notion. But whenever he thought about Harry Potter, it just hurt. He knew, like everyone else, how much the man had changed and felt that he had contributed enough to that pain that admitting that truth to himself- really feeling what that man felt- might just physically obliterate him. Perhaps, he thought remorsefully as he charmed the redacted pages into a messenger plane, there were reasons why so many preferred censored deception to the whole story.