Year 6: Harry Potter and the Secret Letters

Chapter Two: Judas in Diagon Alley

A sixteen-year-old Draco was sitting up late again as he waited for his father to return from yet another Death-Eater meeting with Voldemort. It seemed that the Snake Lord had been planning an assignment for the young follower to fulfill, and Draco was nothing less than nervous and, admittedly, scared. The last thing he needed was to be ordered to torture someone to prove his faithfulness. He had some other, more personal and important, business that he was trying to take care of.

At that moment, his "business" came rapping at his window as he looked up to see Aristotle hovering outside. Checking his watch, he rolled his eyes at his owl's impeccably late timing. What if he had been asleep? Allowing the bird entrance into his room, he quickly noticed the plain parchment and leather binding that was nothing more than what he expected from the inexperienced Gryffindor. He released the insufferable bird from its burden and preceded to undo the tie and read the short letter.

He glared at his owl momentarily. "You bit him?" With a frustrated sigh, he returned to the letter.

Draco decided that he should write a return letter as soon as possible, but right then, hiding the letter so that his father didn't locate it was a rather keen idea.

Just then, a distant popping sound was heard coming from outside Malfoy Manor. His father had arrived home, and in a few minutes, Lucius Malfoy was stepping into Draco's bedroom.

With the letter hidden neatly under Aristotle's cage, Draco faced his father with a courageous façade. "What did the Dark Lord say?"

"His plans for you are… nearly impossible. But you must complete the Dark Lord's commands, understood?"

"Yes, father," answered Draco, trying desperately to refrain form scowling at his forced priorities.

"You will not ask questions or be doubtful of the Lord's decisions."

"Yes, father."

"You will perform your duty to the Dark Lord without hesitation."

"Yes, father."

"You will not fail."

"Yes, father."

"And when you complete your orders, you will come here until the next Death-Eater meeting."

"Yes, father."

"Good…" Lucius gazed sternly down at his son. As long as he had anything to say in the matter, he would make sure that Draco succeeded in his task. The next few hours were spent with Lucius explaining what was to occur, and Draco nodding stoically in silent comprehension.

XXXXXXXXXX

Daylight streamed right through the window to land directly on Harry's pillow. Cringing slightly at the rude disturbance of his sleep, he unconsciously rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head. Slowly, as his mind began to register his surroundings and the fact that Aunt Petunia hadn't slammed on his door yet, the sounds of the Weasley family's interactions floated up to him from downstairs.

The growing sounds of footsteps traveled to his ears, and he reluctantly sat up in time for Ron to run into his room.

"Bloody Hell! 'Mione just told us that you were here! When did you arrive?" blurted out Ronald Weasley as he flopped on the foot of Harry's bed.

Blindly finding his glasses on the nightstand, he turned to Ron to try to get his half-awake brain back into gear. " Um… Late last night?"

"He means early this morning," came a voice from the doorway. Hermione had entered carrying a tray of food for breakfast, which she soon laid on the now bare nightstand.

Ron watched her as if she was participating in the biggest scandal since Rita Skeeter's 'capture.' "Breakfast in bed! You don't bring me breakfast in bed!"

"Yes, well you also didn't live with the Dursley's for the past two months and arrive at one o'clock this morning after a bumpy Knight Bus ride, either," she said, sitting on a cardboard box next to the bed.

Harry chuckled slightly at Ron's lack of response and deflated features. "So how have you both been doing? When did you get here, Hermione?"

"About a week ago. It's been rather crazy over here due to everything, but you came right in time! We were planning to go to Diagon Alley today. You're feeling up to it, right?" she asked hesitantly.

Harry looked at her like she lost one too many marbles. "Yeah, I'm fine, Hermione. Why wouldn't I be?" Here, his two best friends shared a knowing glance, but didn't say anything. "Okay, before I ask what the hell is going on, wasn't it you who couldn't sleep last night?" he asked the girl.

Hermione blushed terribly and tried not to look at Ron who was doing everything that he could to look at her. "Wait! You can't sleep? Is that why you've been acting all weird lately? What's wrong? Why didn't you tell me?" the boy rambled.

"Please! Be quiet, Ron! I'm fine," reassured the girl as she stood from her seat. She turned to Harry with a 'Gee, thanks' look before continuing. "You should get ready. We'll be leaving in an hour. And don't forget to eat breakfast." With that, she left.

Ron gazed at Harry in total loss. "What was that all about?" Harry could only shrug and put off his questions until later.

An hour later, Arthur, Molly, Ginny, Ron, Bill, Harry, and Hermione were all standing in front of the Weasley's fireplace, each carrying a bag or backpack. One by one, each person entered with a fistful of floo powder and shouted "The Leaky Cauldron." It took a short while to get all seven members of their party safely to the London pub, but once there, they started off down Diagon Alley. It was a rather depressing sight, really. More than half of the shops were closed or boarded up, including Eelops owloporium, Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, and Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions. Even Ollivaner's seemed vacated. The attack that Voldemort made on the ministry last year had finally made the people believe in his resurrection, much to the annoyance of Harry. It took them five years to finally trust him. Even the thought of it made him irritable, so he pushed the idea into the back of his mind.

Thinking it best to stop at Gringotts' Wizarding Bank to retrieve the spending money required, the family and guests made it into the marble building. Upon entrance, Harry heard Ron mumble something about it being worse than a library, which earned a stern glance from the ginger-haired girl. The goblins seemed even more unkind than usual, which was definitely saying something. Much to everyone's surprise, due to Bill's ministry connections, he had already withdrawn the necessary amounts and had only needed to retrieve it from one particular creature that was even unfriendlier than the others. Needless to say, the party withdrew from the lopsided building as quickly as possible.

"Would you all like to get your school supplies before visiting Fred and George's shop?" Molly asked futilely. It didn't matter what the responses from the teens were because she soon ushered Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione to Madame Malkin's Robe shop whilst the others three collected all of their books. The four students approached the store hesitantly. As boarded up as the windows were, the door was unlocked and they peeked inside. Voices were coming from the back fitting room: two women and a boy. As Harry opened the door fully to allow them entrance, an enchanted bell rang to announce them and call for Madame Malkin.

"This is not the material that I asked for," came the very stern voice of a woman.

"It's fine, mother. They're not dress robes. They're just for school. Who even knows how long I'll be there?" said the boy pointedly.

"Well, ma'am, if you want to choose the correct material from the fabrics on the wall, I'd be more than happy to change it for you. While you do so, I must check on my other customers. Stepping out into the main shop, Madame Malkin appeared before the four, seemingly very flustered and losing her patience. "Hello, dears. New school robes, I suspect? All of you? Very well then. Why don't you go to the Room Three, and my assistant will be right with you," she said, indicating the back hallway to Ginny. "You may go to Room Two, dear."

Ron left and Madame Malkin asked Harry and Hermione to please wait a few minutes until the other room was open. Just then, a fragile-looking blonde woman exited Fitting Room One carrying a large piece of green cloth on her arm. "Do you, or do you not, have the number 43 shade of emerald that I had ordered?" she asked irritably. Then a sixteen-year-old boy, nearly the size of his mother, appeared in the doorway.

Draco, having already found his mother's presence rather exasperating, was embarrassed beyond belief. "Please, mother! The color is fine! Merlin! It's not even that important!" What was even more bothersome than his mother was the letter that he had up his left sleeve. Literally. It was hard enough to conceal it from his mother beneath his white button-up top. He hadn't planned to have a robe fitting. And that Malkin woman was almost doing everything that she could to rat him out, unintentional as it may be. "It's green. That's good enough," he said to his mother in a tome that surely meant that the discussion had been terminated and he won.

Draco sent Madame Malkin a somewhat apologetic look, and to his horror, spotted Harry and Hermione standing behind her. Struggling to replace his surprised features with a snide façade, he simply could not believe that Harry had overheard Draco actually acting somewhat civil! If Harry even got the slightest hint of what the blonde was up to, everything would be ruined. He scowled characteristically at the two Gryffindors as Narcissa told Madame Malkin to just hurry up and finish the robes.

The storeowner went back to work without even ushering them back into their fitting room. "I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, just let me—"

"Ah!" Malfoy slapped Malkin's hand away before she could reveal his letter to both his mother and Harry. Thinking as fast as he could, he continued. "Ouch! Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother— I assure you that I can endure this alone. If you're so insistent about getting out of Diagon Alley, then why don't you get my books while she finishes tacking these clothes to my skin?" he suggested, sending Malkin a momentary glare.

Narcissa was a little distracted with eying Hermione critically. "Are you sure you want your robes from here? I'm sure such 'scum' doesn't shop at Twilfitt and Tatting's," pointed out the woman, putting a strange emphasis on the Mudblood insult.

"Please, mother. It's not like she touched them."

Harry pulled out his wand in defense of Hermione, who was telling him fervently to stop and that it wasn't worth it. Harry was too curious about Draco's left arm to avenge the insult instantly, anyways.

"That's quite enough!" said Madame Malkin sharply, looking between the boys expectantly. "Wand away, please."

"Mother, get my books," Draco practically ordered, not taking his glaring eyes off of Harry's wand.

"And leave you in the company of this filth? Absolutely not!"

Draco turned sharply to his mother and sent her one of his trademark 'For-Harry-Potter-Only' glares. "Get them," he ordered decisively before entering the fitting room again and slamming the door in his mother's stoic face.

"Narcissa drew a deep, calming breath and turned to the shop owner. "I will return in fifteen minutes and I expect my son's to be done." She then strode out of the door, her straight platinum hair floating past the two students lightly.

Malkin returned to Room One with a very frustrated demeanor. "Wand away," she repeated to Harry as he let his arm fall to his side.

A few minutes passed in silence before Draco exited the room once again.

"I really don't think you should leave until your mother returns," said the woman helplessly.

"Just mind your own business and have my robes ready by the time she gets back. If you don't, then that's your own neck." As Draco reached Harry, he could only stare. The Gryffindor was matching his gaze with interest. "See you at school, Potter."

"See you, Malfoy…"

With that, Draco brushed by the other boy and left the shop.

"Well, really," exclaimed the woman bitterly while she hung the freshly measured, dark green robe on a nearby rack. With a sigh, she motioned for Hermione to enter the now vacant room.

The girl caught Harry's distracted gaze and looked at him questioningly. Harry nodded to her and waited until the both females were inside the room before pulling his invisibility cloak out of his backpack and over his head. He'd have to explain to Hermione later why he was doing this, but for some reason, Draco was acting stranger than usual and Harry knew he was too curious to stay behind. He stepped out of the shop and glanced up and down the vacant street for the blonde boy. Picking a direction at random, he figured that the Slytherin couldn't be too far away and that they would come across each other soon enough.

XXXXXXXXXX

After collecting Aristotle from an abandoned perch outside of Eelops Owloporium, Draco took the letter from his sleeve and jotted down a last sentence without bothering with the green ink. He hurriedly tied his new letter to the owl's leg with another strand of green ribbon, which he took from his pocket, and began scolding the bird. "Just go straight to him. He should be in Malkin's Robes, or at least somewhere nearby. Do not bite, squawk, or hiss at him. That is absolutely unacceptable. And when you're finished, come straight back here to the Owloporium. Understood?" Draco mentally smacked himself for sounding so much like his father and then sent the bird on his way.

However, as soon as the bird was airborne, Draco noticed that it was flying in the complete opposite direction as the robe shop. Aristotle turned a corner and was out of sight. Draco followed, fully prepared to pull the owl away from any mouse that may have distracted him. But as he neared, he could hear the swishing of a cloak and an all too familiar voice. "Aristotle?" he heard Harry ask. Peeking around the corner as inconspicuously as possible, he watched as his owl landed on the other's arm and stuck out its leg impatiently. Obviously, the task of have to deliver a letter to someone just around the corner greatly annoyed him. 'Insufferable bird…"

Harry, meanwhile, was a little stunned. How awkward to be interrupted in his search for Malfoy by a letter from his secret admirer. Or Judas, he should say. "Judas…" Harry whispered to himself curiously before reality dawned and he began to untie the letter from the fidgety bird. As soon as he was done, Aristotle leapt up into the air and flew right over Draco's head on his way back to his perch. Luckily, Harry didn't even notice the blonde watching. His attention was strictly on the scroll in his hands. He fingered the ribbon distantly as he thought over the situation. Unbeknownst of Draco, Harry was actually having a rather hard time deciding whether to read the letter now, or continue to look for Malfoy and read the letter over with Hermione once they were back at the Burrow…

Well… the letter was kind of a private thing… He would rather read it first before he let the girl see anything that was written on the parchment, lest there was something that he didn't want her to see. Doubtful though that may be, he decided to read it now anyways. Unrolling it, Harry noticed that apart from the same ribbon, Judas had also written in his emerald ink… except for the last sentence, which was scrawled in ordinary black. It read:

Dear Harry,

Although I am not personally ogled at in the corridors, I understand that it can be rather annoying. An I am certainly glad the you are interested in speaking to me. I apologize for the bite that Aristotle gave you. I punished him accordingly, which pretty much means that I scolded him, and hopefully it will never happen again. As for his long flight, I actually live in a town just a short way out of London. However, I was on a trip when I sent you your letter. Not to mention that I wasn't quite sure where you lived, either. So I just had to trust that Aristotle would find you.

So, since you wrote back saying that you would like to hear from me, I assume that means that you will stay in touch at Hogwarts. Speaking of school, have you heard about our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Someone named Toadseye, Darnay Toadseye (1). He seems to be a real piece of work. Another person from the ministry supposedly. Wonder if he'll be as bad as Umbridge, or worse, Lockhart… Of course, that phony wasn't from the ministry, thank Merlin! We all would have been forced to bow to him rather than stand against the Dark Lord. Could you imagine if he was Minister of Magic or something? We'd all die! Haha!

Anyways, I need to keep Aristotle with me for right now. But if you use your owl, she should find me. Yes, I know who Hedwig is. Everyone at Hogwarts knows your bloody bird. So, I hope to hear from you soon.

Signed,

Judas

Harry was still chuckling to himself about the image of Gilderoy Lockhart as Minister of Magic when he finished reading his letter. For some reason, Harry enjoyed this letter much more than the first. Perhaps it was because this one was a lot less personal than the other, or the fact that it made him laugh, or because he found out something about this boy. Judas hated Lockhart and Umbridge just as much as he did, and it sounds like he wants to stand against the Dark Lord. Brilliant! Two things that Harry knew they had in common!

Beneath his signature, Judas had written 'And you're welcome for the ribbons; just don't say thank you every time you receive one…' A few spaces down from that, and quite far away from the rest of the letter, in that scribbled black ink was written:

I didn't know that you were going to be in Diagon Alley today!

Harry froze and blinked at this statement. "He's here!" he whispered. Turning around in hope to catch sight of Aristotle or this 'Judas' person, he found the street was vacant and the bird had long ago left. Utterly confused about what to do next, Harry decided that he had lost track of Malfoy and that he better go back to the robe shop so that he wasn't gone when Mr. And Mrs. Weasley returned from Flourish and Blotts. He turned on his heel and headed back down the street in the opposite direction from where Draco was standing. After Harry was out of sight, the Slytherin took a step back and rested against the wall of whatever store he had been peeking around. A sigh of relief escaped his lips and he slumped his shoulder tiredly. Resting his head back against the cool brick, he blinked up at the dim sky. It seemed that the gloominess of Diagon Alley was reflected in the heavens above. How could fear of the Dark Lord affect even the weather?

Although his mind processed this strange question, he couldn't reflect on it due to a small smile that was creeping over his features. Harry had actually been anxious to read his letter. What's even better is that Draco had made the other boy laugh, too! Brilliant! Two things that Draco knew meant that he was doing well!

(1) – Please understand that I only named him this to tease J.K. Rowling about her naming talents… (e.g. Hogwarts, Hogsmeade, Hog's Head, Slug Horn, etc etc)