Title: All That Glitters
Disclaimer: I don't own anything
Summary: With the trial of Kingsley Shacklebolt looming in the near future and the fate of the wizarding world resting on their shoulders, Harry and Malfoy take off on a risky mission to find the real villains.
Not all that is gold does glitter
Not all those who wander are lost
Chapter Twenty-Three: The Beginning of the End
He hadn't brought Hermione or Ron with him when he tracked down Kingsley and Snape, and that had turned out to be a disaster. But he was reluctant to take them now, knowing full well how they would react to his plans. He didn't want their derision or their defiance, and yet they were his best friends and he owed them the honesty. They deserved to know what he was about to do.
It was a dilemma, and yet, oddly enough, it was Malfoy who offered the solution.
"Look, Potter, if you're going to worry about it so much, just ask them if they want to come. Unless you're too worried that they might say no, and then you'll have lost your faithful sidekicks. Maybe your ego can't handle it."
Harry had sent him an annoyed glare, but had still begrudgingly taken the advice. Which was how the four of them had ended up standing in his flat, all glowering at each other in obvious suspicion, but all apparently determined to go on the search.
Hermione had said, "I think you are being rash. You aren't spending enough time weighing your options, and that is exactly what got you into this mess in the first place. But I won't let you face that danger alone."
Malfoy had interjected, "He isn't alone. I'm going with him."
To which Ron had replied, "Yeah, that isn't much of a comfort, Malfoy. I'm going, too, mate. If only to keep an eye on the snake."
And that had been the end of the discussion.
But they still hadn't known where to start. The knowledge that Runcorn and Yaxley had been involved in something was hardly enough to point them in the right direction. Hannigan had the Ministry almost entirely under his control and anything against him would be far too dangerous. So where did that leave them?
"What about going back to Yaxley Manor?" Ron suggested.
Malfoy shook his head. "They're not stupid enough to go back."
"How would you know?" Ron retorted snidely. "Spend a lot of time hanging out with your Death Eater buddies?"
"They were never convicted of being Death Eaters," Malfoy snapped.
"Yeah, they are model citizens, aren't they?"
"Stop it! Both of you," Hermione interjected before the argument could continue. She sent Malfoy a chilling look and added, "Don't think I won't hex you."
Ron smirked.
Harry rubbed his eyes with one hand as he thought over Ron's suggestion. He doubted Yaxley or Runcorn would have gone back to the scene of the crime, but they didn't really have anywhere else to start.
To Malfoy, he asked, "Do you know where Runcorn lives?"
"No. I don't pal around with him," Malfoy snapped.
"It would be easy enough to figure out," Hermione mused thoughtfully. "We can look him up if necessary."
"He won't go back. Neither of them will. They're not stupid," Malfoy protested again. Ron gave him an incredulous look, but he continued anyway, "They were smart enough to kill McGonagall, frame Snape and Shacklebolt, and get the entire world to think Hannigan is a saint, weren't they?"
Harry flinched at the comment, his mind instantly going back to the moment the light had struck the Headmistress in the chest and she had fallen, eyes wide with pain. He could still see it so clearly, as though he was watching it happen again before his very eyes, the world slowing down all around him.
"Yeah? What's your suggestion, then?" Hermione demanded.
"They have to be in touch with Hannigan, don't they?" Harry said suddenly. Ron and Hermione both looked at him, waiting for him to elaborate on the idea, and it took him a moment to order his thoughts into words. Then he said, "If Hannigan is part of this, a major part of this, they're not going to just stand back and let him do whatever he wants. He wasn't the mastermind behind this, that much was obvious."
"Someone else pulling his strings?"
"Runcorn or Yaxley." Harry said softly. "It has to be one of them."
"That still doesn't help us find either of them," Ron said. "And if we wait until they contact Hannigan, it might be too late for Kingsley."
"Or Snape," Malfoy murmured.
Hermione and Ron both gave him unreadable looks, and Harry turned away. Although he had told his two friends about the memories, about what he had learned about Snape's supposed motivations, the trio had yet to discuss the ramifications of it. Ron had just rolled his eyes in disgust and muttered that the potions Master still wasn't trustworthy, and Hermione had looked somewhat intrigued by the entire situation. But the comments had ended there, and the topic of Snape had been carefully avoided.
This was about saving Kingsley, and nothing else mattered.
"What about your parents?" Hermione asked finally, giving Malfoy a contemplative look. "Would they know anything?"
"Are you slow? How many times do I have to tell you this, Granger? We weren't involved!"
"Don't talk to her like that," Ron hissed.
"That isn't what I meant," Hermione retorted, shaking her head, an angry glare back in place on her face. "But your father was a Death Eater, so he probably did pal around with Yaxley and Runcorn. Did he know anything about them? Anything that could point us in the right direction?"
"You want me to drag my parents into this?" Malfoy asked incredulously, clearly reluctant to put his family in any unnecessary danger.
"We didn't drag them into it, Malfoy," Harry said softly, looking back at his one-time nemesis. "They've already been dragged into this, haven't they? By Jonathon Abbott when he accused your parents of harboring Snape. By Kinglsey when he used your mother as a go-between with Snape. Do you really think Hannigan is going to forget about any of that? Your freedom, your parents' freedom, it is all forfeit if Hannigan succeeds. Do you want that?"
Malfoy narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Is that a threat?"
"Don't be daft," Hermione said sharply. "It is a warning. A friendly one. We're trying to help each other, remember?"
"Yeah? And that bit of Dark Arts you used on me the other day?" Malfoy asked bitterly. "Was that also just a friendly warning?"
A complete silence met those words, and Harry dropped his gaze. So much had happened since his accidental use of Dark Magic against the blonde wizard. He had been ashamed of his loss of control then, and although the events of the past several days had pushed that feeling of guilt to the back of his mind, it had not managed to lesson it any. The emotion came bursting to the forefront again, clenching tightly around his chest, cutting off his ability to breathe.
"Are you with us or not, Malfoy?" Hermione asked wearily, breaking the tension with her gentle words.
Malfoy looked at her and said coldly, "Fine. I'll talk to my parents. But don't expect them to know anything."
"Don't worry," Ron sneered, "we never expect a Malfoy to know anything."
The bickering started again, but Harry paid little attention to it. His mind was elsewhere, dwelling on less pleasant thoughts. He could feel Hermione's gaze on him, feel her eyes boring into his back, but he determinedly stared in the other direction, refusing to look at her. He did not know what he would see in her eyes – sympathy, recriminations, concern – and he did not want to face any of it.
He knew the questions she would force him to ask himself. Questions he had no answer for, and could not even begin to imagine where to find a response.
Was he in this mess because he had let his determination at catching Snape lead him into trouble? Had he been partially responsible for the mess? He hadn't been thinking clearly then, was he thinking clearly now?
"Potter? Are you coming?"
Harry swallowed uneasily and nodded, and with his own turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind, he followed Malfoy from the flat.
Narcissa Malfoy yanked open the door the moment she heard the footsteps in the hallway. She was half-expecting a force of Aurors to have arrived, intent on dragging her away to Azkaban, but was instead faced by the oddest assortment she could imagine. It was her son, and the Boy Who Lived with his two sidekicks.
Relief washed through her body. Draco had not arrived at Severus' cottage like she had instructed, and she had automatically assumed the worst. But going to anyone for help had been entirely out of the question, and so she had been left on her own in the extravagant Malfoy Manor, terrified for her son's safety.
"You did not follow my instructions, or your father's," Narcissa said coolly as she glanced between the four in front of her.
"No, I did not," Draco agreed quietly. "Mother, we need to find Runcorn and Yaxley."
A fear gripped tightly around her chest. "Why?" she asked sharply, anxiously. "Draco, this is not your concern. I told you…"
"I went to the cottage, Mother, like you instructed," Draco answered calmly, meeting her gaze steadily. "And I found something that could help Professor Snape." He slanted a look at Potter and added, "Potter has agreed to help me. If we can find Runcorn…"
"It is foolish to presume that you could change anything," Narcissa said. She gave her son a long, disappointed stare, before looking over at Potter. "I suggest you three leave. Now."
"And what will you do?" Potter demanded. "Hide here until Abbott drags you to prison? You cannot escape Azkaban under this new rule."
"And what do you presume to do?" Narcissa sneered in response. "Drag my son on some wild-goose chase that will get him killed? Or is this some new trick to find more evidence to incriminate us?"
"I am trying to stop Hannigan. I don't care what happens to you."
Narcissa nearly laughed. "I know," she answered ironically, shaking her head. "Very few people waste time or effort caring about us. But I will not let you use my son."
"Mother, this is my choice," Draco interrupted. "I went to him. I asked Potter for help. I want to do this."
She stared at him, dismayed. When she had discovered that Draco was not at the cottage, she and Lucius had both reacted with the same emotion – fear. Hers had been displayed through a sudden speeding of her heart, a flooding of adrenaline through her veins, the sudden need to find her son and convince herself that he had not come to any harm. But Lucius had reacted differently, with cold anger and an unreadable façade.
He had left a little over an hour ago. She did not know where he had gone. She did not know when he would be back.
"You are my son," Narcissa replied finally, and although she did not finish the sentence, she knew he understood all the hidden implications of her words. He was her son, and she would not ever be able to stand by and watch him put himself in danger. She did not have the strength of courage to do that.
"Mrs. Malfoy, please, just… we don't want anything to happen to Malfoy… Draco… either. We just want to… to fix this," the Granger girl said softly, pleadingly.
"I am an adult, Mother. I am of age. I have every right to do this." Draco paused, gave her an apologetic shrug. "I… I made part of this mess. I have to fix it."
"You are not responsible for every wrong thing that happens," Narcissa argued. Draco might have given Potter the information necessary to find Snape, but it was clear that this plot had been underway for a while, and it was not her son's actions that had caused the catastrophic turn of events.
"Maybe not," Draco argued, "but this one at least I can fix."
"You think you can fix it," Narcissa retorted, "but where is the proof?"
"We know Runcorn and Yaxley are behind this," Potter interjected. "If we can find them, we can bring them in, bring them to justice. Prove that Hannigan is involved as well…"
"This is folly!"
"Who else can we go to?" the redheaded Weasley demanded, speaking up for the first time. "The Ministry is in the hands of the enemy, Diggory is dead, Kingsley is in jail. There is no one else who can do this. No one besides us."
"This is our best chance of saving ourselves. Of saving you and your husband. And your son."
Narcissa expelled a breath, worried but unable to find another option. She was back into a corner by her son's determination, and she knew that everything the other three had said was perfectly true. There was no one else to turn to, and her family could not possibly hope to survive under Hannigan's rule.
"Come with me," she said imperiously, beckoning to the others to follow her. She walked through the hallway, and into the parlor, gesturing for the others to sit. A quick glance around assured her that they were alone, no one to bother them. No one to overhear anything that could be said.
"I don't socialize with Runcorn, I never did. I knew the older Yaxley, I barely know this one at all. I don't see how I can help you."
"Is Father home?"
Narcissa shook her head. "He is not. And I doubt he would have any more to tell you than I do." Lucius had interacted with Runcorn a few times during the Dark Lord's reign, but never socially. Never enough to know any information that might be useful.
"Are you sure?"
She shot the Granger girl a withering look. "Of course I am sure Lucius is not home."
"Where is he?" Draco asked, obviously worried.
She looked at him, debating what answer to give. Admitting that she did not know where he was would only serve to frighten her son even more, and she could not take the chance that it would cause him to act even more rashly. She also was loathe to admit to Potter and his friends that she had did not know the whereabouts of her own husband.
"He's out," she replied. "He will be back. Perhaps you should wait for him." Perhaps he would have more luck convincing their son not to risk his life on such a pointless venture.
But Draco shook his head. "We don't have time, Mother. If Father is not back soon…"
Narcissa concealed a small smile. She could also tell by the way Draco slanted a nervous glance at the door that he did not want to face his Father. Lucius would not be pleased to learn just what his son had done.
"Can you think of anything at all that could help us?" Potter asked again, his tone impatient.
"I told you…" she started.
"Please, Mrs. Malfoy," Granger pleaded.
Narcissa licked her lips and frowned. She wasn't lying and she wasn't trying to withhold information in an attempt to foil her son's plans, she simply did not know anything about these men.
"I don't even know what information you are looking for," she said finally. "I have nothing I can tell you."
"We just need to find them," Potter explained. "If you know where they would go…"
She rolled her eyes at his stupidity. "Potter, do you really think that I would know something like that? I have already told you that I never socialized with Runcorn, and I barely knew Yaxley."
"But you might have…"
"No, Potter," she snapped, irritated. "I don't know…" and then she trailed off, lost in thought.
"Mother?" Draco prompted.
"During the first war, Bella and her husband owned an estate in the south of France. It was raided by an Auror – Longbottom, I believe. Most of the possessions within the estate were confiscated by the Ministry, and the estate itself was seized. It was sold in auction."
"To whom?" Draco asked, a little surprised.
"I wanted to keep it in the family," Narcissa replied with a fond smile, "but Lucius disagreed. It was bought by Yaxley. To the best of my knowledge, it was not used during the intervening years. It was certainly empty during the second war. It would have passed from uncle to nephew after Yaxley's death. It is possible…" She trailed off with a shrug.
"Where exactly is it?" Potter asked eagerly.
Narcissa hesitated, her eyes lingering on her son. At this point, there was nothing she could do to stop him. But she was also reluctant to let him go off on his own. The last time he had attempted to do something as dangerous, he had nearly died, and though his life had been saved, he had still ended up serving the Dark Lord.
Draco stared back at her, then said abruptly, "Potter, Weasley, Granger. Scram."
"What?"
"Get out. I'll meet you in the hallway in a moment."
Weasley looked like he was about to argue, but the Granger girl sent him a warning look as she rose to her feet, and he slowly followed. Potter frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, but Draco interrupted.
"I'm not going to run off without you. Use your head, Potter, I am sure you have one. I just need a moment to speak to my mother. In private."
"It could be…"
"A trap, Weasley? If we were setting you up, we would not need to speak privately about it. We would already have the plan in place. Idiot."
"Come on, let's just give them a moment," Granger said firmly, beckoning for the two wizards to follow her. They did, and Narcissa watched until the door was shut tightly behind them. Once she was sure the wards preventing eavesdropping had fallen into place and they could not be overheard, she turned back to her son with a pleading gaze.
"Draco…"
"Mother, you have been arrested once. Snape is in Azkaban and will probably lose his soul soon. You and Father are both so convinced that we are running out of time, and here is a chance to stop it. To save us. How can you ask me not to?"
"I do not stop being your mother just because you grow up, Draco. I do not stop worrying about you no matter how capable you are or how necessary your actions."
Draco gave her a look, and she could see something shifting in his eyes, a sort of realization. "Where is Father?" he asked again.
Narcissa held his gazes for a beat, then said, "I do not know. He left after we discovered that we did not know where you were." She folded her arms over her chest and sighed. She would never claim that she or her husband were innocent, and even Draco had certainly made some less than perfect choices. But their past wrongs would never be forgotten or forgiven by the rest of the society, and she doubted anything her son did would change that.
But Draco had to try, had to at least make an attempt to change, and she understood that, even if she did not like it.
"Any estate once owned by Bella will be dangerous. If Yaxley and Runcorn are there, they will not be your only threats. The place will be filled with Dark Objects and Creatures and the remnants of Dark Magic. Be careful."
"I will, Mother. I promise."
"Well, well, well… Mr. Malfoy, you are certainly the last person I expected to find in my office."
"Hannigan. Certainly the last person I wanted to have to speak to. I see you've gone up in the world."
Hannigan smiled coldly and gestured for Lucius Malfoy to take a seat. "I've done well. You, on the other hand, seem to be slowly falling from grace. I doubt you have much longer than a few days before the Aurors come for you and your lovely wife. And your son."
"Careful, Hannigan," Malfoy replied, "the higher you rise, the further you'll fall."
"Yes, you've learned that lesson well, haven't you?" Hannigon said sarcastically.
"How did you fall in with Hannigan and Yaxley?" Malfoy sked casually, resting his walking cane against his knee and carefully folding his leather gloves on his lap. "Did they approach you?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Of course you don't," Malfoy sneered. "How do they keep in touch with you? I can't imagine they would leave you alone to make the decisions all by yourself. Someone is pulling your strings."
Hannigan leaned forward, resting his hands on his desk, his eyes darkening with anger. "Your accusations are baseless. And no one believe you anyway. Your name does not carry respect any more, Malfoy."
"You are probably right," Malfoy agreed with a thoughtful nod. "I can't prove it. But no matter, these were not the accusations I wish to have stick to you."
"And what else have you brought with you? How do you possibly hope to tarnish my reputation?"
Malfoy rose to his feet and walked over to the magical window. He knew that, as the office was located in the Ministry and was therefore underground, he was staring at nothing more than an illusion. He stared at it anyway, at the fake sun casting fake light across the room.
"I have a proposition for you," Malfoy said finally.
"I doubt anything you say would interest me."
Malfoy turned, running one hand over his white-blonde hair. "I want amnesty for my family."
Hannigan laughed outright. Leaning back in his chair, he folded his arms in his lap and tilted his chin up, regarding Malfoy. "My dear Lucius," he drawled, "that will never happen. Your son is a Death Eater and your wife is hardly any better. You may have weaseled your way out of Azkaban before, but you won't manage it this time."
"Oh, and you will have quite the list to send to Azkaban, won't you? Snape, Shacklebolt… impressive."
"Well, I hardly did it all on my own. The rest of the Ministry was kind enough to help."
Malfoy's lips twitched into a bitter smile. "No, you did not do it on your own, did you? You never do anything by yourself. Tell me, did you kill Diggory yourself, Hannigan, or did you have someone else do it for you?"
"Your lies are meaningless. And if you are hoping for a rise from me, I am afraid I will have to disappoint you."
"Will you now?" Malfoy sneered, a thin smile forming on his lips. "We shall see." He gave one last look at the window, then crossed back to the seat in front of the desk and slipped into it with a sigh. "You have learned to cover your tracks better. You did not always do so well in the past."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hannigan asked with a frown.
Malfoy interlaced his fingers and answered softly, smoothly, "Ten years ago, a little hillside town in Greece? People talk, Hannigan. You know that."
Hannigan paled slightly, but Malfoy had to give him credit, he did not lose his calm expression. The poker face was not enough, however, as Malfoy caught sight of the other wizard's fingers tightening into fists, his knucles turning white from his grip.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Hannigan snapped coldly.
"Of course not," Malfoy answered with a sarcastic tone of voice. He waved his hands dismissively for a moment, then said, "Ten years is a long time. Some people must have forgotten." He lowered his eyes to his lap and added, "Of course, some people never forget. And very few ever truly forgive. I wonder… will they?"
Hannigan said nothing.
"We all have less than pleasant secrets in our past," Malfoy said casually. "But you… you've set yourself up to be a saint, the savior of the wizarding world. And while people might forgive the secrets of the ordinary man and woman… will they be so quick to forgive you when they realize everything you've said is a lie?"
"That's preposterous," Hannigan said, but his words were quickly fading in their assuredness, and now he was looking decidedly uneasy. "You cannot slander me with such…"
"I cannot," Malfoy agreed readily. "But they can."
Hannigan's mask crumbled completely. "How did you…?"
"Find out?" Malfoy finished when it became clear that Hannigan was too distressed to finish the question. "I told you, Hannigan. People talk."
Hannigan hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "How long have you known?"
"Long enough. I keep information on anyone who might be… helpful… to me in the future. Little did I know just how… helpful… you would be." Malfoy waited for a moment, watching Hannigan with a hawk-like stare. "Do we have a deal?"
"I… no. No one would believe you anyway. Or them."
"Runcorn and Yaxley did," Malfoy countered. "That's why they chose you, didn't they?" Hannigan said nothing, and Malfoy nodded slowly. "It was obviously their idea. They just needed someone with enough political standing, enough ambition, and no morals. So they chose you. And as long as you can hold the Ministry in the palm of your hand, they will keep you. But if something were to happen… if you lost your influence… well, you simply would not be of any use to them. Would you?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Did you get cold feet when the Headmistress died? Certainly that was not part of your original plan."
"That was Snape. Snape killed her. Snape did all of this."
Malfoy shrugged. "It does not matter how many times you say it. Repetition will not make it come true." He stared hard at Hannigan for a moment, weighing his options. Finally, he said, "You never had it in you to do something like this. You were far too much of a coward. Now McGonagall is dead. You did not agree to that, but did it really matter? Runcorn and Yaxley were pulling your strings, they were the puppeteers behind this entire charade. And they will just as easily leave you behind if they…"
"Fine."
Malfoy stopped, eyebrows raised. "Do you take the deal?"
"Your wife and son will receive amnesty." Hannigan paused, then said coldly, "You will not." Malfoy opened his mouth to respond, but Hannigan pressed forward fiercely, "That is the deal. If you refuse to take it, I will have your family thrown in Azkaban and fed to the Dementors. You may be able to ruin me, but keep in mind, I can ruin you as well."
"If you think you can kill me, and then remove the threat to yourself and go after my wife and son…"
"Don't you trust me?" Hannigan asked mockingly.
Malfoy continued as though he had not heard the interruption. "… I will tell Narcissa the truth about you. And she will use it against you if you target her or Draco."
Hannigan nodded. "I understand."
"We have a deal?"
"Yes. We do."