Golden Haze, Act Three, Scene Change Four, Interlude
AN: What is this? Plot advancement interlude? I never do that.
Short and sweet, real update potentially on Monday. :)
Draco Malfoy kicked the wand away from Mrs. Park's still-paralyzed hand and let out a low whistle. He had known for many years that veela were not creatures to be trifled with over matters of the heart, but he had never before seen their handiwork. Swirling lines of magic lined the abandoned corridor, curling around the peeling paint and chipped concrete walls. It resonated with the power of the magic that had been used within its walls, creating an uncomfortable aura that cut through Draco's careful occluding. It was beautiful, and yet terrifying, the way that the spell signatures still lingered over every single one of the deep gashes that Fleur Delacour's magic had carved into the walls of this forsaken place.
He had seen magical signatures like this, during the war, but never had he been so close to one. The Dark Lord had not been entirely human, and even his magic had not clung so tenaciously to the very walls after he had left a room. No, the Dark Lord had been far fonder of instilling terror in other, more unsavory ways. Draco swallowed, swollen fingers bending down to feel Park's neck for a pulse. This woman had scarred him, taken away his ability to do anything other than sit, useless, in the Hospital Wing. Revenge came in the faint pulsing he could feel under her clammy skin.
Oh, he would make this woman suffer for the names and addresses of her compatriots.
Draco Malfoy had long ago fashioned himself to be a not very nice person. It had worked well for him in school, up to a point. That point had come to fruition last year as the war escalated and he had been ordered to do something that even to this day, he did not think he had the ability to do. To kill, to take a life so heartlessly, Draco did not have it in him to do such a thing.
His fingers rested on the icy coating of the cracked linoleum, next to Park's unconscious body. "She's alive," he confirmed quietly, breath fogging in the cold air as he spoke.
Delacour had used an elemental spell – far more advanced magic than was taught at Hogwarts, in a duel. His eyes narrowed, she had done it without preparation. To do such a spell required time and preparation, neither of which Delacour would have had in such a situation. He had known her to be a powerful witch, but had never thought of her as that powerful.
Just who was Fleur Delacour?
He turned to the auror McKenzie, who was inspecting some of the gashes on the wall with interest. The auror had come with him, a former Death Eater could not be trusted alone with a prisoner, and was now proving to be a hindrance. Potter had sent him here as he and the others had gone off to arrest the ringleader Jones – he was to be the clean-up crew (fall-guy) should Delacour have actually killed someone.
Draco hated himself for going along with it, but this was where he would much rather be: getting the answers he could not get out of Potter or Weasley out of this room and the veela's magical signature that filled every inch of his vast space. It moved around him, testing, probing, and inquisitive like all magical signatures should be, and he let it inspect him until he was certain that it meant him no harm. Delacour was not the type to leave behind curses on a good day, but today, Draco reasoned, was a very bad day for her.
She had sent her patronus to Bill Weasley twice, the second one far weaker than the first, saying that she had found Granger. Draco was glad for that, glad that she was not dead or tortured again. He'd seen Granger like that once in the past, and he never wanted to repeat the experience.
The magic paused as Draco's thoughts turned dark and his left forearm burned with the memory. He allowed himself a moment of weakness, fingers squeezing the marred skin on his forearm and hissing low in pain. He was forever scarred by the folly of his youth.
A thought occurred to Draco as he tried to force the phantom pains out of his mind, veela were odd creatures, mysteriously powerful one minute, and powerless the next. There was no predicting how using magic would reflect on the veela's magical core. Some found it to be an endless and untapped resource, others found it draining. Draco's lips tugged upwards as he saw the seven pointed star etched in the wall just above Park. Delacour is of the latter, he thought. No one could shrink a shielding spell that large and to that size and not be drained.
"I am impressed," McKenzie admitted, kneeling down next to Draco and rolling the woman over. "Her paralytic spell is quite advanced."
Draco nodded; he had never seen one with such long-standing effects. Even the more advanced ones they learned in school only lasted long enough for you to get away from an enemy.
Curiouser and Curiouser. Draco recalled a book from his childhood, the line still fit the mood of the place. "Do you want to arrest her?" he asked.
"I was thinking that we should," McKenzie agreed. "I'll need you to leave before I do it, though. Citizen's arrest is popular in America, but certainly not here."
Draco tried to look offended, "I'll… just head off then."
McKenzie was rifling through Mrs. Park's pockets. He'd pulled out several items of various interest to Draco – cigarettes, a plastic-looking cylinder with a red tip that McKenzie called a 'lighter', a sneakoscope, and a second wand that Draco recognized almost instantly.
"That's Granger's!" he said, reaching down to pick it up. He had seen her wand many times, and knew the way that it had a deep scratch along one side that could not be replaced from a fight they'd gotten into during third year. He twirled it between his fingers, feeling Granger's magical energy still coming strong from the wand. It had not been out of her hands very long.
"Why would Park have Granger's wand?" McKenzie asked, taking it from Draco and turning it over in his hands.
Draco Malfoy was no fool. He did not suffer them lightly. He knew why Park would have Granger's wand, and he was impressed. To have her wand would implicate her and her alone in the kidnapping – Jones would be in the clear, even though he was the one who had taken Hermione initially. It would be her word against his, and it would not stand in court without evidence that he was almost certain Park would not give.
My, what clever villains we have, Draco thought, staring off into space and wondering how on earth they were going to catch Jones in the act now.