CHAPTER FIVE

Muggle Studies was about as bad as Draco had suspected. His Slytherin classmates nodded as they took notes on the hate that Alecto Carrow dolled out almost cheerfully, only Zabini and himself frowning skeptically. Zabini's mother, Draco knew, had had several Muggle husbands, and at least one of them Blaise had genuinely liked. He probably knew more about Muggles than any of them, including Carrow, but this class was not one meant to impart truths, and knowing Muggles would be little more than an impediment to a good grade.

Carrow assured them that she expected this to be an easy class for them.

Draco wondered how he could pull Zabini aside as the class got up to leave and whether he should, whether his concern would even be welcome and whether, once they were alone, the conversation could stop short of an altercation. Seeing Zabini again, knowing what he had done, was still jarring to Draco.

Nothing fazed Binns. It was a N.E.W.T. level class where the houses mixed freely, but Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle had all joined the small class. Draco wondered how their schedules were determined since Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott hadn't taken O.W.L.s, and he worried that the Dark Lord had them following him to whatever classes they could. He doubted that Crabbe or Goyle could have achieved the necessary marks to be allowed into the class at this level where grades were based solely on written papers and tests. He hoped that they would be barred from the class soon, but he doubted that Binns would even be able to properly name them if asked. Centuries of students left him frequently unable to put together names and faces.

Binns' lecture on the beginning Grindelwald's rise was surprisingly modern, the first lecture that Draco could remember Binns giving on anything that had happened in living memory.

Charms was a contrast. Flitwick kept eying the Slytherins—eying Blaise Zabini—warily. Draco didn't see how Flitwick would hold it together for a year. He saw Nott smirk and was sure that he too felt that power could easily switch to the pupils in this class.

Draco worried as he left that class and tried to ignore the Death Eater guard that walked beside him, chatting easily, as most of the Slytherins set off for the dungeons and a free period before lunch, only a few breaking away for classes that he didn't share with them. Flitwick had let them go a little early, and they were a floor down before the hallways began to fill with other students. The door ahead of them opened, letting loose a gaggle of third year Hufflepuffs. McGonagall trailed them, pausing between the jambs to look out over the crowd in the corridor.

Their eyes met—by accident, Draco thought. McGonagall frowned and raised a hand, beckoning. "Mr. Malfoy, come here a moment," she called.

Draco's stomach turned, wondering what he could have done to be signaled out by the Gryffindor head. He hadn't passed his Transfiguration O.W.L. with a high enough mark to be allowed into her N.E.W.T. level class. He hadn't taken a class with her for a year now.

The Death Eaters around him, his snitches paused with him. But Draco after a pause hurried from them, shook them away with a word, and crossed the hallway's traffic to her door, and when she stepped back, he entered. She closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath, glad to be rid of his guard, though he doubted that it was for his benefit that McGongall had separated him from the pack.

"You have a free period?" she asked.

Draco nodded. "I do."

"Good." She looked at him a long minute then said, "Congratulations are I suppose in order."

"Congratulations?" Draco echoed.

"Not a conventional rise to Head Boy."

"Oh. Yes."

"And unconventional to be a Head Boy without a Head Girl to share the responsibility. Do you understand the responsibility?"

He did. He felt the weight of it heavily. He felt that weight sitting inside him when he breathed. And confronted by the question, with the answer on his tongue, it felt too much. "Can I," Draco asked, "sit?"

McGonagall's eyebrows raised as she nodded.

Draco set down his bag and let himself fall sideways into a chair in the front row. He resisted throwing his hands to his face, but his back and neck remained stubbornly bent, his forearms heavy against his thighs. "Professor," he said, his fingers flexing, reaching for a handhold that wasn't there, "I don't— I don't want this. But then I don't dare— Even if I could give up the position—which I know I would never be allowed to do; the punishment would be steep for even asking—I wouldn't dare. I don't know who would be picked next. Blaise? Nott? Neither of them— They can't."

He looked back up at McGonagall. "I don't know what I'm doing. I only know— I feel like the last wall between them—between the students and— And I don't dare consider stepping aside to give them up to that."

McGonagall's voice and expression were gentle when she said, "You are far from the last." She managed a faint smile. "Let me at least take that worry off you. I know I am not the only professor who will defend her students. I know many of the students will defend each other. But I am glad to hear you plan on trying to do so too."

Draco frowned at her. "Did you think I wouldn't?"

"I was surprised you were made Head Boy."

Draco swallowed and nodded. He was only Head Boy because the Dark Lord thought that now he had finally broken Draco to the yoke. This was meant to be training. No creature ever expects to be broken to serve, and Draco had thought that he would be able to hold out at least until after he had left Hogwarts—but he had never expected to be at Hogwarts without Dumbledore there as a bulwark to keep out the Dark.

"Let me help," McGonagall said.

"Please," Draco returned.

Draco told her about the assignments he had been given as Head Boy, and she filled him in on the ones that Mulciber had failed to relate, the assignments other Head Boys and Girls had had in the past. They discussed what could be done to dodge the more odious tasks. McGonagall's proposals were a bit more practical than anything that Neville or Alana had suggested. Draco was heartened to see that she at least among the Gryffindors seemed to understand the danger that the new staff posed. Briefly he wondered how well she knew the Carrows.

"Ordinarily," she said, "it is to the deputy headmistress that you would report as Head Boy. I am no longer welcome as the official liaison between yourself and the headmaster. However… should you find yourself in need of guidance, I hope that you still feel yourself able to come to me—as a professor. In confidentiality of course. No need for the Carrows or the headmaster to know."

Draco smiled. "I'd like that."

xxx

At breakfast the next day, Ginny was leaning in toward Neville, the two of them deep in a whispered conversation when Draco entered the Great Hall, his hand in Alana's. A copy of the Daily Prophet was spread before them. Ginny looked up when they sat down across from them, breaking off her conversation. She was beaming.

"Look at this," she said, picking up the paper and turning it around so that they could read.

The headline read: "MINISTRY BREAK-IN: Order of the Phoenix Suspected."

"Using Polyjuice Potion to impersonate Ministry employees, three unknown persons Monday broke into the Ministry of Magic and freed nine suspected magic-thieves, Muggles who have stolen magic from witches and wizards and lived among us for years without punishment using the misnomer 'Muggle-borns.'

"The employees whose appearances the intruders took on all claim innocence. Mafalda Hopkirk awoke several hours after the break-in in a dark room of the Muggle building beside the Ministry with no memory of how she had gotten there. Albert Runcorn was handed a sweet by someone that he thought was Hopkirk before developing a bloody nose. He took the morning off to look after himself."

"Fred and George's Skiving Snackboxes?" Alana wondered.

"I hope the Ministry doesn't think so," Draco muttered back.

"'Hopkirk,' Runcorn reports, was accompanied by someone impersonating Reginald Cattermole of Magical Maintenance. Cattermole's wife is one of the suspected magic-thieves that escaped with the imposters. Cattermole is being detained by the Ministry for further examination.

"Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Denis Yaxley caught hold of the three imposters as they Disapparated from the Ministry and was taken to an undisclosed location in London believed to have connections with the Order of the Phoenix, the warmongering society once headed by late Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

"London... Not—" Draco looked up at Ginny, horror fisting in his chest. "Harry, Ron, Hermione—"

"You think it was them?" Alana asked, her eyes widening.

"Lupin said they were staying at—"

Ginny nodded.

"The Death Eaters found it?"

"I was hoping Yaxley was just Ministry."

Draco shook his head, darting a quick look up at the High Table, at the Carrows, and at Snape, but none of them showed any great glee.

"It says Yaxley caught hold of them..."

"Keep reading," Ginny prompted.

"The imposters attacked Yaxley and Disapparated again. The Ministry continues to search for them."

"So they're all right."

"They're all right," Ginny agreed. "For now. But they aren't at headquarters anymore."

"But," Draco said slowly, "if they weren't caught, why even print something like this in the papers? A Ministry break-in this soon after the new Minister was appointed? It's bound to make people question his strength. Do you think Thicknesse is fighting them?"

Ginny sighed and said again, "Keep reading."

"By fleeing the Ministry, the following magic-thieves have admitted to their guilt." A list followed. Then, "The Ministry offers a five Galleon a head reward for the capture of immediate family members of these thieves and a ten Galleon a head reward for the thieves' capture..." "Dead or alive?" Draco read aloud, aghast, turning again to Ginny. "And a price on their families too?"

Ginny grimaced.

"What were they thinking?" Draco stormed. He folded the paper against the crease so that he wouldn't have to see the article. "Why would they go to the Ministry? I mean, yeah, those Muggle-borns shouldn't be carted off to Azkaban, they shouldn't have their wands taken away, but now they've made it worse. There's an extra five Galleons for each of them, and five for each of their family members. And Harry—Harry's the greatest hope we have. If he gets himself captured..."

Ginny looked around and lowered her voice even further. "It's got to have something to do with... you know, whatever Dumbledore gave them to do. I think. Draco," Ginny hesitated, "do you think... Maybe they were looking for the sword. The sword of Gryffindor. I mean, the Ministry examined everything else Dumbledore left them. Maybe they thought they had the sword."

"Is it... not here?" Draco asked.

Ginny shrugged.

"Ginny's been filling me in, Draco," Neville said. "I think it's a good theory."

"Maybe they need the sword for whatever they've got to do," Ginny continued. "Maybe they can't go on without it."

"But Harry didn't have any idea why Dumbledore left him the sword," Draco reminded her slowly.

"He wouldn't tell us what he's up to either," Ginny countered. "He must have realized that if he told us that he needed the sword, we'd want to know why, and whatever he's doing, he obviously doesn't want us involved so—"

"If he had told us it had to do with his mission, we would have accepted that. And if they needed the sword, it was here at the end of last year, and McGonagall would probably have given it to them if they had said it had to do with bringing down the Dark Lord, if they had said they needed it for the task Dumbledore set them."

"Maybe. But Dumbledore decided to pass it in his will instead, didn't he? So maybe he didn't trust McGonagall to—"

"Now you're just being ridiculous. Dumbledore trusted McGonagall absolutely."

"How do you know?"

"She was his deputy headmistress, wasn't she?"

"And she's Snape's," Ginny countered, "but I don't think that means Snape trusts her."

"I'm not sure Snape really trusts anyone but himself," Draco admitted.

"I still think they need the sword," Ginny opined. "And I think they didn't get it at the Ministry, because the article would mention theft too, wouldn't it? There's not even a mention of attempted theft, so I don't think it was there."

"Then if you're right, their trip to the Ministry accomplished nothing but to make life hell for nine Muggle-borns and their families."

"Stop that," Ginny screeched. "Stop that. Even now—even now that you claim that you're their friend—that you claim you're ours, you're trying to find the worst in them. You won't see the good—"

"I'm trying to see the practical," Draco argued. "I just don't think your theory—"

Neville turned. "Heads," he said.

McGonagall was upon them seconds later. "Stop it," she snapped, "both of you. Malfoy, I know you're not mine, but you are sitting at my table, and I won't have the two of you causing a ruckus in the Great Hall with your petty—"

"It's not petty! It's about—"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Weasley. No, don't argue. You have shouted in the hall, contradicted me, and," McGonagall lowered her voice, "unless I'm mistaken, there's a possibility you are talking about friends of ours—friends who are very much in danger, who are running even now, in the presence of Death Eaters. Weasley, you spent time in London, you should know better."

Ginny dropped her gaze.

"And you, Mr. Malfoy—you understand perhaps better than anyone what will happen if," her lips pursed, "our new professors," she said tightly, "should find out that you might know more than they do. You know what would happen if they were to catch those friends."

Draco looked at Ginny. "Yes, Professor."

"Now," McGonagall said, "no more of this. Get to class. And remember," she dropped her voice again, "be careful. We're all being watched."

xxx

That night Alana sat down beside Draco and looked up and down the Gryffindor table, worry plain on her face.

"What's up?"

"Ginny," Alana replied tightly, still scanning the table, peering past the Gryffindors now toward the Ravenclaws. "She's been avoiding me, I think. I think she's still—well, still angry with you about this morning."

"She fought with me, not you," Draco reminded.

Alana threaded her fingers between his and peered up at him with a smile. "And we're practically inseparable," she reminded.

Draco smiled back, but the smile didn't last long as he looked up and along the Gryffindor table as Alana had. "So, she's not here?" He didn't see any flash of Weasley red.

"Doesn't look like. Luna's gone too. Luna Lovegood, from Ravenclaw. I saw Ginny pull her aside after Charms. Draco," Alana bit her lip, "I think they're up to something. Ginny's..."

"Headstrong?" Draco supplied—kindly, he thought. He looked up at the High Table. Snape was missing. "I hope you're wrong."

"Draco, do you think— I mean, I think— I'm worried about her," Alana sighed. "She is headstrong, and when she's got an idea in her head…. Draco, I think she might do something rash. I—I hoped she'd be here—at dinner, but—" Alana made to stand up. "I think I'd better go find her. I think maybe you had better come with me."

"Me?"

"If—if she needs—if we have to stop her, I don't know if I can."

"And you think I could?"

"I think you'd be more likely to use your wand."

"You're bringing me as your thug?"

Alana shrugged and smiled at him, "Essentially. Come on." She took his hand, and Draco allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and toward the door, but in the jambs he stopped her.

"Wait." Draco turned back and scanned the Gryffindor table again. "Do you see Longbottom?"

Alana looked then shook her head.

"Right. So we have to find all three of them. This is going to be a really friendly encounter." Draco shook his head then tugged her from the room.

"Where do we start looking? Draco, I don't know where she goes when she's upset. I don't know where she'd go if she wanted to hide."

"We don't need a place for her to hide, though. We need to know how close she is to the sword." He started running up the stairs, towing her.

"You really think she'd— Oh Draco. The headmaster's office? You think she'd try to break in really to—"

"She's headstrong," Draco repeated.

"What'll happen to them," Alana asked as she ran a pace behind him, "if they're caught?"

"Alana, I don't want to know."

The headmaster's office was on the fourth floor. They ran the whole way there, only slowing when they neared the corridor in which was the concealed entrance. Both were out of breath, but hand in hand, they crept forward, and Draco peered around the corner. The corridor was empty; the gargoyle still stood, a silent, still sentry.

"Not there," he reported.

"Should we check the other end? Maybe they're creeping that way?"

"Where would they take the sword if they got it?"

"Out of the castle—or to Gryffindor maybe if they couldn't get out. I don't know, Draco."

"Then let's check."

Draco led Alana down the corridor, past the gargoyle, but the corridor on the other end was empty too.

Draco leaned back against the wall. He shut his eyes. He was glad that they hadn't found them, but now he was beginning to feel guilty. What if Ginny was planning nothing, and he had jumped to suspect her? He should trust her—shouldn't he? Or was it his place to question her every move? What would her brothers have wanted?

"They might've gotten it already? They might've come and gone?"

Draco opened his eyes a crack to regard Alana. "You think?"

Alana frowned. "No," she admitted. "I don't really think they could have gotten into the headmaster's office. Draco—"

"Maybe I was stupid," Draco confessed. "She could just be brooding somewhere. Just because you haven't seen her—just because Longbottom is missing too doesn't mean—"

"Well, if she had been getting herself in trouble—"

"Will you check?"

"What?"

"Will you go to Gryffindor? Will you see if you can find her? I mean, obviously we can't search the whole castle—we'd need a week—but maybe anywhere you think she might, I don't know, hide, I guess—from us."

"If she doesn't want to be found…."

"I know," Draco hurried, "but I just want to know where she is. You don't even have to talk to her. I won't talk to her if she doesn't want me to, but…."

Alana squeezed his hand. "I'll go look. In Gryffindor. I can ask around maybe if anyone's there."

"Then come back here."

"You're going to wait?"

"And keep an eye on the door. Just in case."

"When—" Alana bit her lip, looked up at him. "When will you know it's safe?"

"When we've found them and talked them out of it."

Alana dropped a quick, burning kiss on his cheek. "I'll be back with news as soon as I can."

Draco nodded, but as Alana made to leave, he didn't let her go. He pulled her back, caught her by both arms and held her gaze. "Be careful," he demanded.

After a moment's hesitation, Alana nodded.

"I mean it. Don't let anyone see you, if you can avoid it. I might be able to talk my way out of being where I'm not expected, but you—"

"I'll be careful, Draco, and I'll be back."

Draco let her go reluctantly and watched her as long as he could from his post by the corner. Then when she had disappeared behind a tapestry, he continued to watch the corridor, but after Alana was gone, all was quiet.

He stood sentry, tense as a hound before a fox, for how long he couldn't have told, before the wall behind the gargoyle began to grind open—for someone coming down the steps on the inside.

Ginny and Neville came through the doorway, their heads bent. Ginny's red hair swung in front of her face, gleaming like fire in the dimly torchlit hallway. Luna came drifting behind them, her head raised, looking unconcerned, unaware—as she always did. Last came Snape, a dark shadow, a menacing giant behind the three. His sallow face was slashed by a deep frown. The sword of Gryffindor hung beside him from one hand, the silver bright against his black robes.

Draco gasped then threw his hands over his mouth to stifle the sound, ducking back away behind the corner, but too late.

"Who's there?" Snape called. "Show yourself."

A spell wound around Draco's ankle and yanked him from his feet so that he fell sprawling in view of the headmaster's office on the flagstone floor.

He groaned and sat up carefully. Nothing seemed to have been broken—or even badly hurt. But he would bruise, and he smarted where he had hit the stones.

He looked down the corridor at Snape.

"Come here," Snape barked, glaring.

Draco didn't see any way that he could disobey, so he got gingerly to his feet and shuffled up the corridor. "You didn't have to trip me," he muttered when he stood, head down, before the headmaster, looking at the points of Snape's boots.

"I did not know who was lurking," Snape sneered. "I was taking no chances." Snape's voice dropped, smoothed, and Draco flinched, knowing that tone from Potions classes, recognizing it as a sign of fierce, barely controlled rage: "You see, Draco, I have just caught three criminals trying to steal a priceless artifact from my office. My suspicion is aroused. I do not know if they have accomplices."

"We don't," Ginny protested. "It's just us."

Snape ignored her and continued to address Draco, his eyes calculating. "What do you think I should do with them?"

"Sir, I hardly think that that falls under my—"

"You will help me decide their punishment or," Snape hissed, "be punished alongside them."

"They," Draco swallowed, "they perhaps didn't succeed. Were they trying to lift that sword in your hand?" Draco chanced a quick glance at Ginny, who turned her frown from him, not meeting his questioning eyes.

"They were."

"Then, if they didn't succeed—"

"The attempt is enough for punishment. Now tell me, Draco, what punishment do you think is appropriate? Or shall I call for the Carrows? I'm sure that they will have some creative ideas."

Draco's head jolted upright. "No. Don't! Don't call them. I can—"

Snape sneered. "I thought as much. Do not go lightly on them."

Draco thought then said, "When I was in the deepest trouble—with a Hogwarts professor—when I was caught out of bounds by McGonagall my first year, I was sent into the forest. No professor has ever been—has ever appeared to be as cross with me as she was then. She shouted and tugged me all the way through the castle by the ear," he admitted. "I suppose then, sir, being sent into the forest with Hagrid was the worst punishment she could think to assign me."

It could have been not so bad a punishment. Menial, he had thought then, though he now realized that it had been nothing short of life-threatening. He hid a shiver as he recalled that… that… monster in the woods, that cloaked monster that had been lapping up the blood of the dead unicorn, drinking it from the wound in its shoulder. But when he had been with Neville, with Fang, nothing had come near them. Nothing had tried to hurt them. It was only when Hagrid had replaced Neville with Harry that they had met it. Nothing had come near any group of which Hagrid or Neville was a part. So as long as they stayed with Hagrid, and as long as that monster was gone from the forest, as Draco thought that it was, then… then they'd be fine.

"The forest," Snape sneered. "With that half-giant oaf... Not a light sentence. Well done," Snape said to Draco.

Draco bobbed his head without looking up.

"Now, off. All of you. I will be in contact as soon as I can arrange your night outdoors."

Ginny and Neville slunk away with bent shoulders. Ginny's ears were a dangerous red. Luna drifted away after them. Draco made to hurry after them. He wanted to get out of Snape's earshot, where he could begin his profuse apologies, assurances, and explanations, but Snape called him back. "Not you, Draco."

"What?"

The other three paused to look back too. Luna glanced at him and continued on. Neville just looked blank, as if he'd retreated too far to care anymore. He followed Luna shortly. Ginny glared.

"Upstairs, Draco, with me."

Snape gave the gargoyle the password, and the walls ground open once more.

"Sir, can't it wait just one—"

"Now!"

Draco murmured a forlorn, "Later, Gin."

The pet name, the informality of it only seemed to sharpen her stare. She had not looked at him like that since his first month at the Burrow... With a "humph" she turned on her heel and stomped off up the corridor, following Neville and Luna.

Draco slumped as he passed Snape, who was waiting for him, and mounted the stairs.

When they were inside the circular office, Snape gestured Draco into the chair in front of Dumbledore's—no, Draco corrected himself with another sharp twist in his stomach—his, Snape's desk. The room looked almost exactly as it had when it had been Dumbledore's. Perhaps a few of the trinkets had been packed away. Two shelves had been cleared off to make space for bottled potions ingredients, but they seemed less ominous and less obvious in the wide, well-lit room than they had in Snape's dungeon office. Draco's eyes found the newest portrait on the headmaster's wall. Dumbledore's chin rested on his thick, white beard. The half-moon spectacles slipped down his crooked nose. He seemed genuinely asleep. Draco wondered how he could have slept through the theft, through the capture of three of his students; Ginny must have squealed and shouted. Draco wondered if Ginny, Neville, or Luna had thought to ask Dumbledore about the sword. He wondered if he could, if he could get a minute alone in the office. But then he'd never actually seen any of the headmasters or -mistresses awake. He didn't know what consciousness magic allowed them.

He was staring so intently at the late headmaster that he did not notice the current one move to stand on the other side of the desk.

"I'm going to call the Dark Lord, Draco."

Draco yanked his head around. "What? Here?"

"Yes, here. This is his school now. He'll want to know what happened tonight. He'll want to know why."

"And why do I have to—" He realized his tone was too belligerent, knew he spoke out of fear, knew that Snape knew when the headmaster's eyebrows rose delicately. "Why am I here?" Draco amended, forcing steadiness.

"Because if I did not call you up here myself, he would have me send for you again. You know the Weasleys well. You might know what the Weasley girl wanted with this." Snape hefted the sword, studying it as intently as he had ever looked at any of his students, as if his gaze might bore into the sword's mind.

"Sir, I don't know."

Snape's dark eyes flew to Draco's, and Draco lowered his gaze.

"Anything," Snape said quietly, dangerously, "that you wish to conceal from the Dark Lord, you should say now to me."

"Why?"

"He will get it from your mind, and I can guard it in mine."

"You helped Blaise out of the castle."

"At the Dark Lord's behest. He is a hero in the Dark Order. If I'd refused—"

"And you're here now, working for him."

"As are you."

"Dumbledore trusted you."

"And you."

"I don't know that you deserved it."

"You should. If you deserved it, then I did. You've been listening too long to the Gryffindors' prattle. Now tell me why they wanted the sword, Draco."

"I don't know," Draco admitted through gritted teeth. "It was some stupid fantasy of Weasley's. Probably she just—just wants to be doing more."

"To fight the Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"How will the sword help?"

"We don't know."

"Why do you think?"

"I don't. I don't think."

"You lie."

"I don't want it to help."

"But Weasley—"

"She's frustrated. She doesn't know what to do. None of us do. Call your master, Snape. If I have to be interrogated, it may as well only be once."

"Tell me first. Tell me why she wanted it."

"She thinks Harry might need it. That's all I know. That's all she's said."

Snape's eyebrows rose higher. "Why?"

"We don't know. We don't know what Harry's doing even. He wouldn't tell us." Probably so that we could avoid this. "Call him, Snape."

Snape drew back the sleeve of his left arm. He looked to Draco, who nodded, before putting his finger to the skull and snake tattoo carved into the skin of his forearm. It burned black. It burned on Draco's flesh too, a searing fire that made him grab for his arm to deaden the flames, even though he was prepared for it. His face twisted, and his eyes shut, but the pain was short-lived.

"Severus. Draco."

He was there when Draco opened his eyes again. If Snape had been a shadow, then the Dark Lord was blackness itself, except for his bone-white skull and long-fingered hands.

"My lord," they both murmured. Snape dropped into a bow while Draco jerked his head without rising from the chair.

"Why have you called me?"

Snape lifted the sword once more. "This. I have just caught the Weasley girl, Longbottom, and Lovegood trying to take it from my office."

"And this," the Dark Lord hissed like a poisonous snake, rising to strike, "seemed to you a worthy reason to call me?"

"You wanted the sword kept from Harry Potter, my lord, and the Ministry arranged for that. Now his friends have snuck into my office to retrieve it. You wished to be given any information regarding Potter. This seemed to have potential."

The Dark Lord's red gaze pinned Draco with a lash of flame. "And you, Draco? Why are you here?"

Draco kept his eyes on the ground and grumbled, "Snape asked me to be. Because I know Ginny. And he thought you'd want me here. My lord," he added.

"You learn, my Draco." Draco heard the smile in his tone and flinched. "Yes, you know the Weasley girl. You know Potter. What do you know about this?"

"Nothing. Potter was very secretive. He told us nothing."

"But was he... disappointed not to receive the sword?"

"I think we were more disappointed, my lord."

"Why?"

Draco looked up, "Because the sword would have looked lovely over any mantle. To own the sword of Gryffindor?" he said more seriously. "Who wouldn't want that?"

"Who indeed... You know of no reason why he might want it?"

Draco shrugged. "It's a brilliant keepsake."

"My lord—"

"No, he's not lying, Severus. But I do not believe that's enough of a reason for Weasley to want it, not badly enough to risk herself in stealing it. Draco, you are close to the girl?"

"We fought." Draco didn't want to tell him what about. "She's furious with me."

"Can you get close to her again? I want to know why she wanted the sword."

"My lord," Draco said carefully, "Ginny is stubborn. I don't know how long—"

The Dark Lord's voice became a deadly hiss. "Can you get her to forgive you, Draco?"

Draco dropped his head again. "I hope so, my lord."

"Then consider it a command, Draco, from me. I know you can be persuasive. Win her forgiveness, and find out why she wanted the sword. In the meantime, what do either of you know of this sword? How did it come to be in the headmaster's office? I don't remember it being here."

Draco shrugged. "Har—Potter," he corrected with a quick glance at the Dark Lord, "used it to battle a basilisk our second year. That's the story. Maybe he found it in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"I believe the sword came from the Sorting Hat. It was Gryffindor's too. Legend says it can manifest his sword for a," Snape carefully sneered, "worthy Gryffindor. But the time of its manifestation does line up with Potter's rescue of the Weasley girl from the Chamber."

The Dark Lord frowned deeply. "Potter used it on a basilisk? In the Chamber of Secrets?"

"Yes, my lord."

"When the diary your father gave the Weasley girl was destroyed?"

"What diary?"

The Dark Lord frowned. "It doesn't matter."

"Are you saying that you think Ginny wants the sword for herself as a keepsake?"

The Dark Lord frowned more deeply still and did not explain further than saying, "It might hold sentimental value.

"Snape," he barked, "I want the sword moved. I don't know why the children wanted it, but I don't want it falling into their hands. Clearly it isn't safe here in your care."

"I caught them, my lord," Snape reminded.

"Be glad you did. When Gringotts opens tomorrow morning, you will be outside of its doors. You will bring the sword to the bank, and you will ask to have it deposited in," he paused to think, "the Lestrange vault."

"In the Lestrange vault? Won't the goblins wonder—"

"Bellatrix will accompany you."

"My lord, are you sure that is wise?"

"I know you dislike Bellatrix, Snape, but I need a well protected vault. It is hers or the Malfoys', and at the moment—"

He tossed a glare in Draco's direction, and Draco dropped his head to mutter, "I've messed up before. You're still testing me. And my father has messed up. He's not in your good graces after getting himself and everyone else arrested at the Ministry."

"And he is wandless."

"Wandless?" Draco yelped.

"Yes. It shattered." The Dark Lord's lipless mouth thinned, and his broad forehead creased, but he did not elaborate, and Draco did not dare inquire. "He is but borrowing your mother's when need demands.

"No, it will need to be a servant with a vault and with a wand to identify herself."

"My mother—"

"Has not shown herself mine with nearly the same enthusiasm as your aunt. And you and your father would both have easy access to the vault."

"So," Draco wondered, "the Death Eaters—the ones who have been convicted—they won't be arrested if they go out in public now? Bellatrix's face was on wanted posters everywhere for months. People will remember it."

"Were you not reading the paper over the summer, Draco? I have cleared my Death Eaters' names. Yes, I am still keeping them out of the spotlight so that no gold-eager idiot tries to capture and turn one of them in, but she will be able to go out for this. It will be brief, and the majority of it," he turned to look at Snape again, "must be conducted in secret, behind closed doors. I do not want this to be a grand affair. I do not want others to know where the sword is."

xxx

Draco, walking back along the corridors, could not help wondering why the Dark Lord had been so insistent about the sword's secrecy, why he was so worried over its safety. Was it possible that Draco was wrong? Did Harry need it to defeat him? Why? How could it help? Could Draco wield it if he could get it? Or could he go to his aunt's vault and find some way to get it to Harry without the Dark Lord finding out? Ought he to have helped Ginny break in instead of arguing against it? Could they then have gotten away? What had he done? How would he explain it to her?

"Draco!"

Draco started and whipped out his wand, but faced—

"It's you!" Alana came out from a niche behind a statue, anxious lines etched across her face, pushing aside a loose strand of hair, and ignoring his drawn wand. "What happened? I saw Ginny and Neville on their way back to the Tower. They looked really upset, and when I asked them why, Gin told me to ask you."

"None too nicely, I imagine."

"No. Draco—"

"They were caught trying to steal the sword then Snape caught me and had me assign their punishment."

"Oh God!"

"Then he took me up to his office, and the Dark Lord—"

"Oh Draco!"

"He wanted to know why they wanted it. Luckily I didn't know. Not really. I think he believed me. But they won't find it in his office again. It's being moved from Hogwarts in the morning."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? If Harry needs it, it'll be easier for him to get if it isn't here."

Draco shook his head. "I think he should find another sword. Maybe one of the other founders', one of the ones that Slytherins don't hate as much, like a sword of Hufflepuff's."

"I've never heard of a sword of Hufflepuff."

Draco shrugged. "Alana? What do you know about Ginny and a diary? Maybe your first year?"

"She had one then," Alana said. "She used to write in it all the time."

"Where'd she get it?"

"She had it when she came. Why? Draco, even if you were her brother, you shouldn't read—"

"I don't want to read it. What happened to it?"

"I don't know. I think she gave up the habit."

A/N: I'm realizing now that it isn't likely that Voldemort would be able to use the Dark Marks to get into Hogwarts-or Snape ought to have been forced to bring him there sooner in Half-Blood Prince. But that's a power that Voldemort's had in this fanfiction series for a long while and a difficult rewrite. We're going to assume then that before killing Dumbledore and installing Snape as a puppet head, he hadn't wanted to risk himself by coming for anything more than pre-planned meetings with his Death Eaters. It's a stretch, but please give this one to me for now while I try to think of a way of rewriting this and earlier scenes.