Author's Ramblings: Pure laziness, that's my excuse. Shut up. At least this chapter's kind of long. Ish. Also, do any of you watch/read Naruto? If so, you'll recognise some characters in this bit. Ahaha.
Disclaimer: Meanies.
Hello horntail07! Thank you for the wonderful and rainbow-like betaing!
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Mind: The Gap.
Chapter five.
Harry felt like he'd been torn apart and put back together; he felt like he'd been put through a strainer and stirred into an ice cold cup of tea with one sugar, he felt like he'd been eaten, spat out, and eaten again. In short, he felt awful.
"Thanks buddy!" said Fred, slamming him on the back with the flat of his hand. "You really helped us out, we were in a right pickle with those fake noses but with your help I'm sure we can work it out!"
Harry could only nod weakly at his tormentors, inside his head he was screaming bloody murder, but the twins' cheery faces stopped him from hexing them. Just.
George picked up the various pieces of rubber and plastic and wobbly things that had ended up all around the small compartment, balanced them on the two clipboards, and then, waving infuriatingly, they finally left. Pity they hadn't done anything about the smell of rotten eggs and burnt Vilene though.
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"See! All it takes is a little concentration!" declared Daring Darla as she stood on the ground, or rather hovered, micromillimetres from the surface, "you've just got to be careful not to fall through is all!"
Sir Nicholas seemed vaguely interested but, as always, got distracted when his world tipped sideways momentarily.
"Damn stupid thing!" his hands flailed and patted at his gory stump.
Lord Sylvester looked up briefly, but decided this was a bad idea and went back to his ghostly book.
Darla, noticing her lack of audience, sighed and floated so she was a couple of inches off the ground. Spend all your death living in a school; you'd think they'd like learning, she thought. Noticing the Ravenclaw ghost she glided over.
"How can you stand reading that same book over and over?" she enquired, "You've been reading it for the last three centuries!"
Lord Sylvester shrugged, "How can you get excited about floating? You've been doing that for at least four hundred years."
Meanwhile, Nearly Headless Nick had discovered something. Something you could only see at a vantage point only people with broken necks could achieve. So he could see it quite comfortably. His eyes widened, but he clamped his mouth shut and adjusted his head in an upright position. He began flapping his hands and darting his eyes towards the low corner shelf, under which sat a set of crumpled robes. In which, sat a sleeping man.
The Bloody Baron paid him no attention, but when he floated right up into his face and waved like a madman, he decided now was the time to take action, if only to stop this ridiculousness.
And that is how they found the stowaway.
And that is how they found the spy.
And that is how they found Lucius Malfoy.
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Harry couldn't breathe, the mixture of odours stung his nose, the pink tinged smoke stung his eyes, and he could swear one of the remaining humbugs had stung him on the bottom. He had to escape!
The door burst open and he was in the corridor, finally, freedom! But now his compartment was uninhabitable and all the others were full. And he'd left his book behind.
"There's no way I'm going back in there," he said to himself.
With that, he set off down the corridor, heading towards the back, until he found the large iron door that led to the baggage compartment. He turned the heavy handle, wishing he hadn't left his wand in his jacket pocket and opened the door with a loud creak.
"Get out from under there you traitorous wretch!" ordered the Bloody Baron authoritatively.
The door opened and Harry stepped in.
Four ghosts and one groggy, confused man turned simultaneously.
"What?"
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Ron was on his fifth compartment and so far, nothing, not a sausage, nada, zip. Not that he let that get him down. He knocked sharply on door number five. It was worth a try.
The door slid open moments later, and he went through his ritual explanation, letting his mind wander. The compartment was sparse and neat, the bags tucked in rows on the shelves above red velvet seats. There were only two other people in the small room, not including the one at the door, one boy and one girl sitting on opposites sides of the coach. They looked to be about eleven or twelve; first or second years then.
"…So have you seen her?" he finished.
"Maybe," replied the boy who had opened the door, he scratched his spiky blond hair and stuck out his tongue slightly in an effort to think. Ron took a moment to notice the lurid orange jumpsuit he was wearing before the boy twisted round, revealing a white spiral on his back.
"Have you guys seen her?" he asked the others. The other boy just shrugged and said nothing, his only other movement being to swipe away a stray strand of dark hair that had flopped in front of his eyes. Ron's eyes travelled to the girl in hope. She put her finger to the side of her face and tapped her cheek in thought. She was wearing a red dress and had strawberry pink hair. Finally, thought Ron, someone with hair worse than mine.
"Nope! Sorry!" she proclaimed garishly.
The door slid shut easily, not sticking as they were prone to do, as if the blond, blue-eyed boy was well used to such a design. Ron just mimicked the dark-haired boy and walked off down the corridor in an increasingly desperate search for his bespelled sibling.
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The ghosts were eying the man suspiciously, and even Harry had the common sense to stand a good few paces back.
"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" questioned the Duchess.
"He's a Death Eater! Let me at him, let me at him!"
"Calm down, Nicholas. He's going nowhere," soothed Lord Sylvester as the Bloody Baron, feeling fairly undignified, tried to hold the outraged spectre back.
"Malfoy Senior? What are you doing here?" said Harry holding the blonde's confiscated wand in a steady hand. So far, the bedraggled man was yet to say anything, all he did was stand and stare, shocked, the expression on his face surprisingly frightened. His hair and clothes were a mess; the long strands cut short and jagged, his robes torn and muddy. He still wore his expensive boots, but the toes were scuffed, when he lifted his foot, Harry could see a hole in the sole. The man himself looked like he'd been through hell and back, his eyes bloodshot, grey rimmed, and cheeks sallow with hunger, his lips pursed thin, split at the edges where dry skin tore.
"Mister Malfoy?"
He glanced warily at the gathering, weighing his options. Finally he spoke.
"I'm not here to kill you."
Nearly Headless Nick nearly had a fit, "Damned right you're not! As if you even could! Slimy Snake, let me at him!"
Darla shushed the hysterical ghost with a motherly pat on the head. This, unfortunately, caused said appendage to rock to the side and fall over the rim of his neck and stop short, hanging by that remaining strand of muscle and tissue that so aggravated the Gryffindor ghost.
"Whoops! Sorry dear," gasped Daring Darla, righting the indignant wrong. Harry looked over at Lucius again, as his attention had been distracted by the ghostly antics. To his surprise and great interest, he found the man smiling tiredly, not even trying to hide his amusement, as Harry was sure he would have done not a few months ago.
Lucius noticed his new attention and quickly frowned, then gave up and relaxed.
"I'm not a Death Eater anymore, you know. I was, before, but I'm not now, not for a while. Dumbledore probably knows all about it, I wouldn't put it past him."
"But how do I know you're not lying? I need proof, there's no way I can trust you just because you say so," Harry said.
"I know," said the elder Malfoy, holding up his hands, "you must tell no-one of this, but I can prove to you that I am not what I seem."
Harry's interest peaked at this, "I promise, I promise I won't tell anyone unless I absolutely have to."
Lucius seemed satisfied with this, if not entirely happy- still, he knew that was the best he was going to get. "I've been sending anonymous tips to the Order of the Phoenix for the past two or three months. I'm a spy. For your side."
Harry was taken aback, but ever distrustful of a man who had tried to kill his best friend's little sister, and for years had been one of his many tormentors, not to mention the Death Eater thing, he had to ask again.
"I would be very glad if that were true, but please understand, you could just be saying that to get me to trust you - there's still no proof."
"Yeah! You tell him Harry! Show us you're telling the truth, you dirty liar- ack! Baron! Not so tight!" Sir Nicholas twisted uncomfortably in the Bloody Baron's restraining grip.
"Alright, I understand. I can tell you some of the information I leaked. Do you know about the Aberdeen killings?"
Harry nodded. A few weeks previously five teenagers had been found dead in an alley, no one but those of the wizarding world knew the cause of their deaths. It had been all over the front page of the Daily Prophet for weeks.
"Well, there was one survivor, a boy."
Harry also knew of this. The boy was from a wealthy family and it would have been disastrous if he had died. If the muggles had become suspicious they may have discovered many things that the ministry, and the Order members, definitely wanted to keep under wraps. He was getting curious though, only the Order of the Phoenix knew about the lucky escapee. They'd saved him after all.
"I found out about the plan to kill this boy," continued Malfoy, "and informed the Order as soon as I could. As it was, I was still too late to save the others, but the boy was retrieved safely. I was later put under Crucio by Voldemort himself for letting the boy escape."
This news left Harry with two options: he could believe him and take him to Dumbledore where he would be kept safe, or he could not believe him and take him to Dumbledore where he would be imprisoned by the ministry and probably executed. Not for the first time, a man's life hung on which decision he made.
"I'll trust you."
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"Hurry up, we don't have much time!"
Neville followed the bushy-haired girl down the empty corridor, wheezing slightly. They were on the hunt for the lost plant, well, forgotten plant, but Neville felt nervous all the same. His passion for botany did not excuse the fact that around any door a crazed teenage 100-pound something redhead could be lurking, ready to pounce.
Soon enough though, they reached his compartment, only to find it devoid of any plant life. Hermione slumped against the side of the doorframe and put her hand to her head.
"What're we going to do now?" asked Neville.
She glanced at him and sighed, flopping her hands to her sides. "I guess we'll just have to go back and hide," she said.
Neville nodded in agreement reluctantly, and back they went, back to the broom cupboard.
What fun.
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"Well…um…we looked all over- but, erm, we couldn't find him….um."The young Malfoy sighed into his hands, he was on the train, damn it! But where?
"Are you, and let me make this clear, sure you've checked absolutely everywhere?"
The two large teenagers looked thoughtful, which was unusual in itself. Slowly they both nodded, although the one called Goyle started to shake his head at first, but a glance at his companion was all he needed to make him switch his answer quickly in agreement.
Draco looked at both of them in disgust, "and have you checked all the compartments?"
Another nod, this time unopposed.
"What about the baggage compartment?"
Both goons looked at each other confused.
"It's the one with all the bags in it! At the end of the train?! Tell me you've looked there!"
Synchronised head shaking was his only reply. He didn't know whether to be angry or happy. Either way, he was sure now where his target was, even though he still did not know his identity. Draco smirked at the thought, leaning backing his seat: his first real mission - to kill the traitor.
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Author's Ramblings 2: Why hello again, fancy seeing you here! While you're around you might as well click that little purple button to your left- that's right, just over there- and write down your opinion, as all humans like to do. Thanks!
This is Squibakou signing out.