Chapter 9
Killing Begets Killing
"He's dead, Draco."
"But how can you be sure? It's just a rumor."
"I know," replied Narcissa Malfoy, "I still have some contacts within the Ministry. Scrimgeour ordered it as retribution for the dark lord's attack. Scrimgeour will kill all of the death eaters at Azkaban if the dark lord continues." The tall blond woman did not appear especially upset by the news that her husband had been summarily executed by the Ministry, but her hands shook slightly as she spoke with her only son for the first time in months.
Voldemort allowed the meeting at Narcissa's request, but she knew that she could not stay long. The dark lord and his followers had abandoned Sarazen Manor and now moved every few days to new locations. Voldemort had a network of safe houses and hideouts throughout Britain. On this day, they stayed in an abandoned farmhouse in southern Scotland. The dark lord and Pettigrew left for unexplained reasons, and Narcissa took the opportunity to speak frankly with her son.
"Then I will avenge his death," Draco blustered, trying to hide the pain in his heart. Though he despised his father, he also worshiped him and strove to follow in his footsteps. Yet Draco knew that he lacked his father's intellect and abilities. The young wizard took after his mother, tough on the outside but full of nerves and indecision inside.
"You will avenge nothing!" snarled Narcissa, dressed in an expensive black silk robe, "This is not your concern. You have chosen your path, as did your father and I. It's too late to back out. Once in the service of the dark lord, you cannot change your mind. If I had to do it over again, . . ." She dared not finish the thought.
"Why would they kill him?" Draco asked, his voice betraying his sorrow and sounding like that of a younger boy, "They already had him locked up. The Ministry didn't have to kill him."
"Just as the dark lord does not have to do the things that he does," his mother replied coldly. "Understand your situation, Draco. I hoped to save you from it, but now I realize that I cannot. Violence begets violence, and killing begets killing." Mrs. Malfoy's eyes widened slightly as she worked to master her emotions. After the events of Hogwarts in June, Draco's future could not be changed. He would have to serve the dark lord, for better or worse. Probably worse. Previously she hoped that somehow Draco could avoid direct service to the dark lord, somehow stay to the periphery of Voldemort's followers, but in her heart she knew this to be impossible. Her son faced an uncertain future. If the dark lord prevailed, hopefully Draco could establish himself in the new order. In the event of failure, the best she could hope for her son would be a life sentence in Azkaban.
Draco's eyes narrowed as he read between the lines of his mother's statement.
"Then I will have to lie in the bed that I've made. If killing begets killing, so be it!" He tried to sound as tough as the veteran death eaters with whom he spent his days, but his mother could see through the act. She frowned at the statement, but could not contradict him.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"Is he the same auror from Liverpool?"
Harry stared warily at the man while answering Hermione's question, "Yes. Evan Harrington. Knew my parents at Hogwarts. Nice bloke, I thought. Now I'm not so sure."
"I did know your parents," Evan confirmed as he stood next to the hotel bed, "but I never claimed to be a nice bloke. Generally speaking, we aurors are not." The tall, sandy haired auror stood erect and confidently before the younger wizard and witch, not at all acting like a captive.
Harry nodded, appreciating Evan's forthrightness. He motioned him to sit on the armless chair next to a small round table near the drape-covered window. Evan accepted the offer, and Harry pulled out the other chair, moving it several feet away. He wanted to keep some space between them, and his wand remained in his right hand. Left with no seat, Hermione leaned against the edge of the bed, still holding Evan's wand as well as her own. Nobody spoke for an uncomfortable period of time, until finally Harrington broke the silence.
"How could you see me?" Hermione nodded her head an inch at the question, having wondered the same thing.
"I'm just full of surprises," Harry responded flippantly, seeing no reason why he should explain anything to the auror. Besides, he did not know. "Why do you want to talk to me? What difference does it make what I tell you?" Harry still wore the jeans and black t-shirt he put on before traveling to Little Whinging. He had flung his rucksack next to the small dresser across from the bed.
Evan looked upwards for a few seconds, realizing that he truly did not have a good answer.
"I don't know what's going on. None of it makes any sense, and I feel like I'm being used. I can't trust Scrimgeour, and I can see no legitimate reason why you should be confined without charge, which is what he intends to do." He paused again, realizing that his scattershot explanation did not explain himself how he wished. "Look, Harry," he continued, "I've broken about a dozen canons of auror ethics over the past weeks. I've come too far now to turn back. If they knew that I sat here today talking to you, my career would be over. I don't want that. I like my job, but there is only so much I can accept without question."
"What do you want to know?" asked Hermione warily, "You've read the Daily Prophet. You know Harry's story. Everyone does." She leaned forward slightly, eyeing the auror appraisingly.
"No, I don't know his story," Evan disagreed, turning towards her, "Not the real story. The Prophet prints half truths at best, and I think you're intelligent enough to know that, if what they tell me about you is correct." Evan gazed a few more seconds at Hermione before redirecting his eyes to Harry. "Let me be plain about this, Harry. I'm trying to decide whether I should help you. Whether I should abandon my oath as an auror and disobey the orders of my superiors, including the Minister of Magic himself. You don't know me, but let me tell you, that is not an easy thing for me to consider. But I wouldn't be here right now if I had not moved in that direction already. If you convince me, I think I can be a tremendous help to you."
"Didn't you read my interview in the Quibbler?" an irritated Harry asked, "All of it was true. What more do you need to know?"
"I want to know why Scrimgeour wants you so badly. And I want to know why Voldemort wants you dead. There's a lot more to the story than what's appeared in print, " Evan surmised, "Something happened to link you and Voldemort, either back when he killed your parents or some other time. I want to know what."
"We're connected, all right," Harry spat, pointing to his scar, "Right here. He's made my life a living hell, and I intend to return the favor."
Hermione shivered from the venom in Harry's voice, a tone she had never heard before. She had seen all of his moods, including his angriest moments, but never had she heard him speak like this. She sensed a difference in him from the moment they entered the hotel room, but given the stress of the moment, she could not dwell on it. With Harry's words, she knew that something had happened to change her friend. He seemed much more aggressive now, having attacked the auror ruthlessly outside and now verbally attacking his great nemesis. Never had she heard him speak of Voldemort in such terms, as if he wanted this fight.
"So you've taken it upon yourself to rid the world of Lord Voldemort," commented Evan derisively, "All by yourself, too. How admirable."
"He's NOT by himself," Hermione interrupted angrily, "and you're right, you don't know what the situation is." She stepped forward quickly and turned towards her friend. "I'm not sure we should tell him. This could be a trick, Harry."
But Evan's caustic response actually encouraged Harry, who also appreciated the auror's willingness to speak the dark lord's name. Here sat a man not afraid to express his opinion, to tell Harry to his face how stupid he could be. Harry liked that. He had enough of everyone trying to comfort, placate and protect him. I'm seventeen years old now. A man.
"They call me 'The Chosen One,' and they are right, in a sense. Voldemort chose me. We are linked, whether we like it or not, and until one of us dies, we will remain linked. That is what I'm facing, Harrington. Kill or be killed. Do you really want to involve yourself in that?"
Again, Harry's tone gave Hermione shivers. She gazed at him questioningly, but he ignored her, staring intently at Evan Harrington. For his part, the auror liked what he heard and smiled.
"Kill or be killed? Sounds like something right up my alley," he responded casually, "but what is this link you talk about? Why should you, a seventeen-year old boy, have this responsibility?"
"You don't have to tell him anything," Hermione interrupted sharply, taking another step forward, "Why should we trust him?" Harry looked back and forth between the two.
"I do trust him, Hermione. I'm not sure why. Look at what he's done. Threw out his wand; put himself at our mercy. And he didn't hassle me when I was with Melissa. I think he is a decent bloke, even if he won't admit it."
"I don't know, Harry. This could be a big mistake."
"Wouldn't be the first one I've made," Harry retorted, his mind made up. "Make yourself comfortable, Mr. Harrington, this could take awhile."
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"Three more attacks today, Minister," reported Scrimgeour's aide, "At least people seem to be more prepared after our recent campaign regarding protective measures. The death eaters managed only one death."
Scrimgeour quickly scanned the parchment before flipping it onto his desk. The dark lord's followers appeared to be increasing their attacks, but had not yet removed all of the stops. So far, they only attempted safe raids, apparently designed as much to prevent losses as to create terror. Yet he could not deny their success. Each day the Daily Prophet's reports increased in hysteria, and the mail arriving to the Ministry each day reflected it. So far, his administration had been completely unable to respond with any good news of its own. You Know Who seemed to stay two or three steps ahead of them.
"We need to strike back," the Minister growled, "Killing death eaters in Azkaban is not enough." He needed a new plan, he realized, something that would truly make a difference in the struggle. As he commonly did, he swung his chair around to stare at the snow-covered mountains outside the enchanted window, allowing the aide to leave silently.
He sat motionless for several minutes when finally his lips curled up slightly into a smile.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
Ron Weasley closed the door of the shed after returning Ginny and his brooms following their daily workout on the quidditch pitch. Past nine in the evening, the brightness of the day had just begun to dim. Every day passed more or less identically, and the brother and sister never experienced a more boring summer.
In past years, the Weasley family took trips, visited relatives, entertained friends, and enjoyed shopping excursions. This summer they enjoyed none of those things, afraid to leave the perceived safety of the Burrow and the nearby town of Ottery St. Catchpole. With all of their older siblings gone, Ron and Ginny ended up spending much of their time together, whether they liked it or not.
Intertwined with their boredom, worry over the state of their best friend, Harry Potter, always existed just below the surface. Though they spoke of it little, whenever their father returned home from work at the Ministry, they asked for any news. Every day he informed them that no news was good news, and that Harry seemed to have eluded Evan Harrington for the moment. Unfortunately, the Order of the Phoenix had no idea of Harry's location either.
Returning to the tottering house after tossing a couple of gnomes, Ron and Ginny carried a pitcher of pumpkin juice and a new bottle of olives, the muggle kind, up to Ron's room for a mid-evening snack. Mr. Weasley years before developed a love of muggle olives, and soon his family followed suit. He purchased several bottles just a few days before.
"I'm so bored, I could eat my shoe," Ginny grumbled, "I wouldn't even mind cleaning Grimmauld Place again. At least we were doing something, and Harry and Hermione were there. No offense intended." She began to run a brush through her wind-blown red hair.
"No offense taken," Ron replied after draining a glass of juice, "and I know what you mean. I never thought I'd miss going to that grimy old mansion. We did have some fun there, and there are a lot of interesting things lying around." He made no effort to fix his tangled hair.
Ginny grabbed the bottle of olives and tried to open it unsuccessfully. She kept trying, but the seal on the bottle proved too strong for her to break with her hands.
"Some of those things are a little too interesting, if you ask me," Ginny remarked while straining to open the bottle. Finally she gave up. "Can you open this for me, Ron?"
"Sure," he replied, taking the bottle from her. "Grimmauld Place used to have a lot of activity, what with all of the Order meetings, and people coming and going all the time - Tonks, Dumbledore, Lupin, even Hagrid. And of course Fred and George always livened things up. I wish they could come around here more often." Ron's large hands gripped the bottle of olives, but the especially tight seal could not be broken by brute force. After he grunted a few times, he decided to resort to magic.
"Those muggles sure know how to seal a bottle," Ron commented as he stood up to retrieve his wand from the top of his dresser, "It's almost as bad as that locket we couldn't open at Grimmauld Place a couple of years ago. Remember?"
"I remember," Ginny responded as she threw herself onto the spare bed in Ron's room, the bed in which Harry slept when staying at the Burrow, "That was one of those 'too-interesting' items I mentioned. What's wrong?"
Ron seemed not to have heard a word his sister spoke as he stood frozen next to the dresser, his wand hanging limply from his hand, the bottle of olives forgotten. This is huge, he thought, Why didn't we think about that before?
"What is it?" Ginny asked again, slightly concerned about her brother, "What's so strange about the bottle of olives?"
"I have to talk to Harry and Hermione," Ron muttered urgently to himself. He turned towards his door as if he meant to leave right at that moment until he realized that he did not know where to find his friends.
Ginny scrunched her eyes in confusion, commenting sarcastically, "I'd like to talk to Harry too, but if you haven't noticed, he's been missing for the last two weeks. Today's his birthday, you know. Who knows what he's doing or where he is?"
"I know, I know," Ron sputtered, his frustration showing, "but this is important. I just thought of it, and he needs to know right away." The tall red head turned towards the window of his room as if that would somehow direct him to Harry's whereabouts.
"You can send an owl to Hermione," Ginny offered helpfully, noting the changed demeanor in her brother. Rarely did he display such urgency.
"But she doesn't want any owls, remember? The Ministry is probably watching her just like it's watching us. It may be intercepting her mail. I don't know what to do."
"She gave me the number for her telephone and told me how to do it. Really it's quite simple. If it's that important, we could use the telephone in town," Ginny suggested. She had taken quite an interest in Ron's sudden change, the first interesting thing to have happened in days. A walk into town to make a telephone call to Hermione seemed like a lot of fun compared to their recent days.
Ron did not need to be told twice. They told their mother of their plan to walk into town, as they did from time to time to relieve their boredom, but Molly would not allow it so late in the evening. They would have to wait for tomorrow.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"Dumbledore!" hissed Lord Voldemort, causing Peter Pettigrew to shiver. "That fool has caused me enough problems. Perhaps his death truly was for the best."
Pettigrew had assisted his master to the ruins of an old cabin not far from Little Hangleton. Voldemort waived his wand a number of times, apparently removing various wards from the site, but Peter noted with trepidation the concern in the dark lord's manner. Rarely had he seen him in such an agitated state of mind.
Once he completed removal of the wards, Voldemort rushed forward as quickly as he could, but already he noted that the site had been disturbed from that day decades before when he hid the ring of Marvolo Gaunt, after having converted it into a horcrux. No ring could be found, and he knew only one man could have overcome the wards.
Dumbledore had the ring, which meant that the meddling old fool must have destroyed it. Voldemort distractedly shuffled around the wreckage of the old cabin, ignorant of the presence of his servant. Pettigrew for his part knew to hold his tongue and remained on the margins of the cabin site.
Voldemort already knew that Potter unwittingly destroyed the diary that he, then known as Tom Riddle, created while still a student at Hogwarts. Lucius Malfoy informed him of the events in the Chamber of Secrets, and though Malfoy did not know all of the facts, he knew enough for Voldemort to deduce that one horcrux had been destroyed. All the more reason for him to have created six. Voldemort assumed, however, that the other five horcruxes remained in tact.
Now he knew differently. Somehow Albus Dumbledore managed to locate the ring and the locket. Presumably, the old man destroyed one or both of them, leaving only three horcruxes remaining. Voldemort could only hope that Dumbledore had not yet discovered these, and the dark lord realized that his highest priority must now be to recover these items and to place them under new protections. He gazed into the distance, recognizing the difficulty of this task. No longer could he avoid the wards and protections of Hogwarts Castle.
"Come, Wormtail," he finally ordered decisively, "We have much work ahead of us."
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
Evan Harrington's shoes lay a foot next to Harry's, after both men removed them during the course of their long conversation. The auror learned all of the important events of Harry's life, from destruction of the Philosopher's Stone to discovery of the horcruxes. As each element of the story complicated the situation, a more comfortable Harrington often stood to pace the small hotel room. Ever vigilant and still not completely trusting the man, Hermione made sure to keep her distance from him and to guard his wand. Even Hermione, however, began to trust the auror as the hours passed. He asked intelligent and strategic questions.
Hermione realized that she needed to return home soon in order not to worry her parents, but she did not feel comfortable in leaving Harry alone with a stranger from the Ministry.
"How much does Voldemort know about this?" the auror asked after satisfying himself that he had a good understanding of the facts. He had returned to his seat, but Harry replaced him in pacing the beige carpet.
"What do you mean? About what?"
"To begin with, the horcruxes."
Harry and Hermione had never discussed this point in any depth, but they could see that Harrington considered it to be of utmost importance.
"Well, he must know about the diary," Harry opined, "because I gave the ruined book back to Lucius Malfoy with a sock around it." In response to Evan's confused expression, Harry briefly described his spur-of-the-moment ploy to free the house elf, Dobby.
"OK, I agree with you. We must assume that Voldemort is aware of the diary. What of the others?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted, "as far as I know, only Dumbledore and I knew about them, and Ron and Hermione after I told them." He paused for a moment before adding quietly, "And I told Ginny." He looked away from Hermione, as he knew that she thought Ginny did not know.
Hermione felt taken aback by Harry's admission. Of course, she should not have found it strange that Harry would confide such things with his girlfriend, yet she could not suppress a twinge of irritation that Harry clued Ginny in on the prophecy and the horcruxes without consulting with Ron and her first.
Of course, sixth year had not been their closest term at Hogwarts, the blame for which lay largely at her feet. Ron and she had not taken Harry's accusations against Draco Malfoy seriously, and she felt ashamed how she allowed her feud with Ron to reach such ridiculously petty levels. In a sense, they had driven Harry away from them, and naturally Harry would gravitate towards Ginny.
But Ginny had not participated in their greatest adventures, except for the debacle at the Ministry. She had not saved Sirius Black's life, rescued the Philosopher's Stone, helped Harry survive the tasks of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Why should some late-comer like Ginny be allowed access to such vital, secret information? Hermione squinted her eyes at Harry's back, and Evan Harrington noticed the reactions of the two friends. Of course, the relationship between the two teens represented none of his business, and he refrained from comment.
"Let's think this through," he instructed, "The strangest thing that I heard tonight was Dumbledore not killing Voldemort when he had the chance at the Ministry. You're sure he could have killed him?"
"One hundred percent," Harry asserted, "Dumbledore whipped Voldemort's tail and had him dead to rights. Then he lifted up his wand, quite intentionally. I couldn't understand it at the time, but of course now we know about the horcruxes. Dumbledore knew he couldn't kill him, and he knew that it is my destiny."
Evan paced, deep in thought, before he spun around and exclaimed, "Of course, of course. You just said it. We know about the horcruxes, but Voldemort knows too. Don't you think he'll wonder why Dumbledore didn't finish him off when he had the chance? It's not like Dumbledore has never killed before; he killed several wizards when he fought Grindelwald. I don't pretend to know Dumbledore well, but I think it's fair to say that he would have killed Voldemort if that would have put an end to him." He walked nervously as the consequences of his logic became clear.
Harry and Hermione still felt uncomfortable from his admission about Ginny, and they fell a couple of steps behind Evan's thought process.
"What are you trying to say?" asked Hermione, "Voldemort probably thinks Dumbledore is just a weak old man who doesn't want to kill anymore."
But Harry suddenly understood the auror's point. In fact, he not only understood it, he felt it; he knew it to be true.
"Voldemort knows," he muttered under his breath, then spoke it more loudly, "Voldemort knows. He knows that Dumbledore knew about the horcruxes." He paused a moment to allow the next deduction to form in his mind. "He'll check on them, and then he'll discover that the ring and the locket are gone."
Hermione's eyes widened as she listened, for she knew that Evan and Harry almost certainly deduced correctly.
"Voldemort will try to safeguard the other three horcruxes," she concluded, "He'll want to protect them."
Evan nodded and added, "He'll think that all three are destroyed. He doesn't know about the fake locket."
Harry and Hermione turned towards each other, the awkwardness of the mention of Ginny forgotten. Their eyes conveyed unspoken understanding at the ramifications of their logic. Harry's destiny had just become much harder.
Forgotten in his rucksack rested the unread letter of Albus Dumbledore.