Chapter Four: Black Blade

Hermione nearly bounded down the stairs in complete panic mode, her son's favourite blue pajamas clutched tightly in her fisted hand. Her cheeks were flushed and she was forcing herself to appear calm and not to just violently sob because her son was missing.

The babysitter was still here, so of course the girl would know where Hugo was and why he wasn't coming out his hiding place when she called for him. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. She was sure there was, and Manny was going to tell her what without any nonsense or she would fucking rip her hair out a strand at a time until the bitch was bald!

No need to panic, woman! said her sanity. Stop overreacting.

So she listened to it. After all, it had gotten her through many tough times, troubled spots, and seriously sticky situations. Nevertheless, when she reached Manny, all she could do was roughly grab the girl by her shoulders and shake her awake. Staying calm be damned! "Manny! Where is Hugo? Wake up! Where is Hugo?"

The girl woke up with round, surprised eyes and was clearly shocked at her employer's behaviour, but Hermione seriously didn't give a fuck. "What?" Manny gasped out, clearly breathless. Her voice was still a little gravelly from sleep.

"Where is my son?" Hermione nearly yelled.

Was this girl as stupid as she looked at the moment, or was this just her morning routine? Whatever the case, Hermione regretted hiring her instantly. She hated people who weren't useful in stressful situations, and if Manny didn't start cooperating in five fucking seconds, she would personally sock her in the face!

"Hugo? He...he should be...in his room! In his room... sleeping?"

"He's not there!" Hermione actually screamed this time in exasperation. "Where the hell is he? When did you put him to bed last night?"

"I..."

Hermione's eyes widened. "When the fuck did you put him to bed last night, you little bitch?" Hermione grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulders once more and started shaking her violently, as if showing brute force would get her all the answers she wanted. "Answer me!"

There were tears of fear in Manny's eyes, but she stupidly answered anyways. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I fell asleep and I don't know..."

But whatever it was that Manny the nanny didn't know, Hermione didn't find. Before the kid could get a word in edgewise, her fist collided with the poor girl's face, knocking her out cold and most likely breaking her nose in the process. Hermione dropped the girl's body to the floor and paused a moment to stare down at her in disgust. She didn't waste any more time calling the Auror department.

It was safe to say that wherever Hugo Weasley was at that moment, his crazy mother wouldn't stop until she'd found him once more. No matter how many idiotic bints she had to punch in order to do it, Hermione Weasley was coming.

Thanks for not overreacting, said her voice of reason.

/

Draco sighed while donning his heavy black cloak, securing the hood in its place. It wouldn't do to get recognized where he was going tonight and not many people had such fine white-blonde hair. It was easily recognizable. Then again, being recognized did have its advantages, and he wanted to have that card ready to use if need be. Transfiguring his appearance just wouldn't cut it.

There were still those that feared the Malfoy name and were willing to bend over to his every whim. Rightfully so. That was exactly where they belonged.

Before leaving his grandiose Manor, he removed a sheathed sword from its hiding place in a secret compartment in the wall above his bed. It simply took three discreet taps of his wand and a minute of chanting to remove the wards surrounding his most prized possession. Within seconds he was able to graze his fingers over the most beautiful object he'd ever set his eyes on. And as a Malfoy, he was constantly privy to many wondrous things.

It was a sword – his sword – forged centuries back in the times of Morgana herself. He didn't know whether such a claim was true or even accurate, but he hardly cared. He loved the sword and all the legends that accompanied it. The most curious thing about it was its black blade, shiner and darker than onyx, than night itself. Sharper than any blade the world had ever seen. It was deadly.

The legends spoke of druids, the very first wizards, forging the blade in the depths of night and shadows itself. With that process, they had embodied the very soul of evil in the blade.

But if the blade was evil, Draco did not care. The sword was magical and absolutely the true essence of power. Its magical enhancements that each bearer had probably contributed to it throughout the years were endless!

When Draco carried or used the sword, his magical abilities were enhanced – as if he possessed the capabilities of every witch or wizard that had used it before him. His strength and magical capacity increased and it was as if the sword gave him the ability to become sensitive to magical energies, barriers... And simply slice them at their core.

Yes, Draco could not only cripple a person physically with the sword, but magically as well. But he was not stupid. He had never done such a thing and he only used the sword sparingly, only brought it on important missions. Such power was consuming and Draco knew what the results were to lose oneself to power.

After all, the last bearer of the sword had been Voldemort himself. If that wasn't an example, then there was none. Draco strapped the sword to his back, holstered his want to his waist, and left the room. He was ready for the night.

/

When Hugo woke up, he was disoriented. His head ached and he was sure he had slept wrong because every muscle and bone in his body hurt! But when he opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't because he had slept wrong, it was because he had lain prone on a cold cement floor for hours probably. His back ached and he was bruised. How had he gotten here? Where was this place, anyways?

Hugo looked around at his surroundings.

He was in a mostly dark room. The only light that seeped through came from the cracks in the floorboards above them, but they were too far up to reach. The little slivers of light were enough to tell Hugo that there were six pairs of scared eyes staring back at him and that their surroundings were covered in dust and damp filth. Why was he here? Where was he? Who were all of these other kids?

"Who are you?" Hugo asked curiously.

"SHH!" they all simultaneously said, staring up at the cracks in the floorboards fearfully. Hugo wondered what they were afraid of and why. He wondered if he ought to be afraid as well.

"What's wrong?" Hugo asked, attempting to get some answers once more. But his curious voice only bothered the six other children. His voice seemed to make them panic for some strange reason he could not begin to fathom. He just didn't understand. What was so wrong that they didn't want to talk to him?

One boy came over and clamped his dirty hand over Hugo's mouth. Another boy and a girl came to restrain his arms. Hugo began to struggle, but they were too strong for him. It hadn't occurred to him to be truly scared up until this point, but he was scared now. Truly, honestly scared.

But as Hugo would soon find out, all of his struggling in this strange and scary place would always be fruitless.

/

Draco melded into the shadows, careful not to be seen by the folk that passed through Knockturn Alley. It was a dangerous place to be during the day, but once the midnight bell struck ringing precisely twelve times, the streets were flitted with figures that no witch or wizard would want to meet under any circumstances.

And that was what Draco was. He was just another nameless terror passing through the shadows like he belonged in such a dangerous territory. He was unmarked, faceless, almost like a ghost. He was just like the rest of them, another wandering soul willing to commit atrocities to the next living thing that disturbed their unrest.

Draco had gotten rather good at blending in with the dark figures. He left them alone and they did the same. Together, they seemingly wandered with no destination, but with very evil intents.

As it was, Draco did have a destination that night and more than evil intentions. He trudged down the street slowly, almost dragging his feet against the cobble-stone street. To any passerby it would seem as if he was merely gliding. But Draco had always been good at deception and appearing as that which he was not.

The friction his feet created with the ground made the sword slung comfortably across his back nearly sing in appreciation. Draco shuddered. When the sword was happy, there were no annoying voices of reason in his head. Only him and the voice of the sword – sweet, slow, and whispering. As if it loved him, revelled in their aloneness...

When Draco reached the back end of Knockturn Alley, he stopped and waited. Tonight was the night when all of his hard work of the past six weeks of searching for this man would come to an end. He knew that the man was hiding here in the very shabbiest and most deplorable area of Knockturn Alley. Not even the shadow folk came to this area at this time of night.

Only the most evil, the most desperate entered here... And tonight Draco would too, just to finish the job he had started.

Close your eyes...

He listened to the slithering, hissing voice in his head and immediately his senses were bombarded with a multitude of colours that the dark, damp street could hardly have provided, no matter how hard it tried. The sword began to vibrate gently on his back, as if it wished to release all of its pent up energy and power right at that moment.

On second thought, it probably did.

/

"You have to be quiet!" the boy whispered in Hugo's ear desperately. His voice was hoarse, gravelly, and his breath absolutely stank. Hugo cringed. "We'll let go, but you have to promise to be quiet or he'll hear us..." Hugo nodded. Anything to make them let go of him was acceptable.

They tentatively let go of his arms and the boy removed his hand from Hugo's mouth, which Hugo discretely wiped. "What man?" Hugo whispered meekly, hoping that this time they wouldn't hold him down like that for talking again. He wondered what was going on for the hundredth time and wished his mother was with him.

Thankfully, they kept their hands to themselves. Two other children came out of the shadows to join the circle, but one little girl sat in the corner and ignored the actions of the others around her. It was as if she was unaware of everything. Her face was expressionless. Hugo felt as if something really bad had happened to her to make her behave that way...

"The man that brought us here," one of the girls whispered. "The man that brought you here... Do you – Do you not remember yet?" she asked, even quieter than the others. Hugo shook his head no.

"You will," one of the boys whispered. Hugo felt as if he vaguely recognized him. Had he seen him before? "You'll remember soon enough."

/

Draco inhaled the musty air of the street, shivering in pleasure as he was able to feel, to see, every particle of magic in play around him. He loved this feeling, fucking relished it! It was as if every aura, every magical signature, and even the residue of long forgotten spells were all at his mercy. It was all his to use, his to do with whatever he wished. So long as he just drew his sword... Oh yes, so long as he let the sword participate and take part in a little bit of the power hunt...

He could literally feel the sword's anticipation, could feel it urging him to draw it so that all the power could be theirs. But tonight wasn't the night to experiment with the black blade, as he fondly called it. He had work to do tonight, stuff that was more important than power. He had more than enough power at his disposal, he told himself.

Draco didn't notice the colours in his vision dim a little bit.

It didn't matter, anyways. The sword could rest now if it so wished. He had already spotted the magical signature he had been hunting for the past six weeks. He knew everything about that particular signature that just glimmered there, teasing his eyes. Everything there was to know about it and the man that it was attached to.

And they lay just beyond that door.

He muttered several complicated incantations for the sword to lay low and become dormant before nonverbally casting a Patronus in the opposite direction of the rundown building he stood in front of. For some reason, when the sword was alive and bustling, Draco was not able to cast his Patronus. It was strange, really. Quite a shame, he thought, as he watched his fox trot away.

He waited.

In a matter of four minutes and twenty-six seconds, Harry Potter and a team of seven Aurors stood silently at his disposal. He exchanged a look with Harry before silently nodding. Harry motioned for his team to disperse, which they did, staring to secure the perimeter. Draco could see at least one of them appear on the roof of the building, moving his lips soundlessly as he searched for hidden traps.

Draco smiled. He knew they wouldn't find anything. He had come here the day before to make sure the surroundings were safe for a breach. Of course, it never hurt to be safe...

He turned towards Harry then as they crouched in the shadows, waiting for the affirmative. "Got here pretty fast, Potter."

Harry just shrugged. "Been waiting for your signal," he muttered. "Wouldn't want this one to escape. Bastard's wanted on three continents."

Draco nodded. "Nasty bugger, this one." He shifted his weight to his other foot to avoid his legs from going numb. That would be so inconvenient in a situation like this. "Should've started on him with the last massacre they explained away." Harry sighed but didn't respond. How curious... "What is it, Potter?"

"I'd rather not think of departmental failures just right at this moment," he whispered back, looking around them uncomfortably. "You know, before we walk in to catch a raving mass murdering lunatic..." He trailed off as if forgetting he was about to say. He sighed again.

Draco smirked. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry raised a brow and smirked back. "You wish."

Together, they raised the hoods of their cloaks once more to hide their respective identities and approached the door of the building in which their soon to be prisoner lay hidden. Draco knew Harry's team was placed in all of the strategic locations surrounding the building that he'd requested. The anti-apparation wards were already in place. He'd seen to it.

When Harry received the signal from his team that all was ready to go, he nodded at Draco to proceed. Draco lifted his fist to knock loudly at the heavy door. Once, twice, thrice... just as he'd seen all of the other prospective customers do during his scouting of the place.

The door creaked open and he and Potter stepped in. It shut loudly behind them.

/

There was a loud knocking upstairs and all of the children jumped, including Hugo. They hid as best as they could in the shadows, pulling Hugo along with them. After all, he was one of them now, and it wouldn't do to just let him learn the ropes on his own. That would just cause unnecessary trouble...

A collective shiver passed through the group as a pair of heavy feet passed over their heads. Hugo trembled, genuinely scared now. Whoever the man was upstairs, he was not good news. They all heard the door open and heard it slam shut behind whoever it was that had come in.

"Whatever you do," whispered the boy closest to Hugo's right, "don't make a sound." Hugo nodded dumbly.

All they heard for the next half an hour was a constant grumble of voices.

/

Harry and Draco followed the man that had opened the door further into the building, until they eventually reached what seemed to be the psychopath's office. This must have been where the man conducted all of his business. Well, good for him, but it wasn't going to last much longer.

He offered the both of them seats in front of the large desk that took up most of the space in the room. "Now, I trust you've brought the necessary galleons?" Draco gestured to Harry, who pulled out a heavy looking sack from the depths of his cloak. The man's eyes lit up. "Good! Good! Now what can I do for you fellows?"

Draco leisurely crossed his legs, leaning back into the decrepit chair, as if he owned the place. He had his wand loosely pointed at the man. "You see..." Draco began. The man froze at the sound of his voice. "There is this cell I'm just itching to fill and I do believe you're a collector's edition! Wouldn't you agree, Potter?"

"I believe that's right, Malfoy," Harry nodded.

"And there's this fat sum of galleons," he continued, gesturing to the fat sack of gold in Harry's hands, "that'll just go to my already filled vaults if I get you there. Isn't that right?" Draco grinned, continuing his conversation with Potter as if the man were no longer a factor.

"Why, that's absolutely right!" He could tell Potter was amused. The man, on the other hand, was scared shitless.

"M-Malfoy?" the man sputtered.

Draco grinned. He just loved the feeling of making people's heart stop with just dropping his name. Ah, it was pure bliss. Harry stood up. "The one and only," he supplied, gesturing to the blond who had also stood up by that point.

Draco dropped his hood. "Miss me, Yaxley?"

/

Nearly an hour later, they heard the door slam again as whoever had come in had obviously just left. They all stared up as they saw the man's heavy feet walk above them once again, this time dragging something behind him.

Hugo's heart nearly stopped in fear when he heard the heavy steps slowly coming closer, probably down a set of stairs. There was a thick "thunk" after each step, as if he were dragging something too heavy to carry after him. Hugo shivered. Whoever had brought him here was coming to see them now. All seven pairs of eyes stared at the door fearfully.

It was finally opened with a huff.

In came the man, the man from the street, dragging his son Charlie behind him by the hair. Charlie seemed to be unconscious and the man seemed to be out of breath. He threw the unconscious boy towards the rest of the children, some of which whimpered.

That was when he caught sight of Hugo, cowering amongst the other children.

"How do you like your new home, Hugo? Hmm? All to your liking?" He smiled the most evil smile Hugo had ever seen on a human. The man stepped forward and kicked his son in the side, but Charlie didn't wake up. "Aww. Don't want to play?"

Hugo nearly ran to the farthest wall and screamed as loud as he could. The man only laughed as if this were a reaction he got all the time. "That's alright, little bugger. Maybe another time. I've got stuff to do anyway."

And with a huff, he shut the door and was gone. They heard him go up the stairs and soon after saw his feet pass above them. The children pulled Charlie to them and tended to the unconscious boy as best as they could. It wasn't much, but they hoped it was enough to help the damaged boy live.

Hugo finally understood what a predicament he was in and began to cry – no sob. The other children tried to console him, tried to get him to stop, but it was useless. They knew it wouldn't have worked anyways. After all, each of them had cried exactly like Hugo when they had arrived.

Eventually, Hugo fell asleep. Much later, Hugo remembered.