Chapter 22: Happy New Year

Draco was in a good mood. Everyone praised Sirius Black for his clever idea to help out Draco's friends. And Draco received high marks for offering to pay for the food, should he win the tournament. And that remark always gave Hermione an excuse to ask him how he was doing on the second task. His current excuse was that it was the holidays. And that excuse was almost over.

It was now New Year's Day. There would be a small feast. In two days, the students would return and there would be another feast. And the morning after that, classes would begin. But that was then.

And this was now. Draco never even made it to breakfast. He was sitting in Dumbledore's office. With Professor Dumbledore were Professor McGonagall, Sirius Black, Justin Finch-Fletchley and someone he hadn't seen in a while, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Luckily, he had Hermione's moral support. As he was summoned from the common room she asked, "What did you do now?"

And now. Justin was glaring at him. "I don't believe you lied to me."

"Bout whot?"

"Please," Kingsley Shacklebolt asked. His tone said that everyone should shut up. It also said that he was in charge of this meeting. "Mister Malfoy, it is a deliberate violation of the Statute of Secrecy Act to interfere in muggle affairs, particularly when these affairs are Affairs of State. For a student to do this is normally answered by immediate expulsion. Except . . ." Kingsley gave an almost laughing smile.

"I can't be expelled," Draco answered with a smile of his own. Knowing full well what this meeting was all about, he asked, in his most innocent voice, "Do I get to know what I did before you compensate by giving me permanent detentions?"

"At least he knows what to expect," McGonagall muttered.

Sirius Black gave a cheerful laugh, "I was with Draco the entire time. I've already assured you that Draco did nothing wrong."

"As far as you know," Kingsley pointed out. "Draco has managed to be involved in things without people knowing," he looked pointedly at Sirius, "except for one or two others who are secretly helping him."

"Or three," Sirius reminded him. "I was in on that plan, as well."

"Sirius?" Kingsley was trying to get down to business.

"The boy will verify everything I've said."

Kingsley scowled at the interruption and turned back to Draco, "Shall we discuss this in detail."

"Why not," Draco answered. "That means there's plenty of time for everyone to start spreading rumours."

"Good Point," Kingsley acknowledged, "Brevity would be preferred. Mister Malfoy, you went to a muggle reporter and gave an interview immediately upon leaving your sister's house."

"Din't."

"I have seen the pictures."

"They was supposed to be skewed."

"They were. I even made it a point to watch the interview as it was displayed on muggle television. I didn't mention that fact when I talked to Sirius Black."

"Then he told you I din't do what you said," Draco insisted.

"YOU JUST ADMITTED THAT YOU DID!" Justin shouted.

"Not right off," Draco acknowledged.

Professor McGonagall put his hand on Justin's shoulder. It was enough to keep him silent. In a gentle but piercing tone she suggested, "Why don't we simply have Mister Malfoy tell us everything he did, in chronological order, from when he left his sister's house until his return to Hogwarts."

Draco noticed Sirius was giving him an 'I tried' look.

"Um, " Draco said.

"Um," Draco repeated. "Right. Left the 'ouse. Asked Black 'bout some reporter badmouthed Janice. 'e's supposed to be so clever, t'ought 'e'd 'ave an idea."

"I hope you don't mind," Kingsley asked calmly, "but could you repeat that in English?"

"I could translate," Justin offered.

"Crisp it, Justin," Draco cursed, "I'll tell 'im"

Sirius shouted, "HEY, you were told: No cursin' roun' the lil'uns," He had Janice's tone and accent down perfect. "Or your betters." He finally figured out what 'Crisp It' rhymed with.

"Right, fine," Draco fumed, "Crisp . . . y kippers. Fine, me fancy voice." He glared at Kingsley. "When we left, Sirius Black suggested we visit an expert. A muggle reporter had insulted my sister and I wanted revenge. That is why Sirius Black took me to the offices of the Daily Prophet. It was suggested, by a reporter, that the only chance I had for revenge would be to tell the truth to a rival reporter. That's when I went to give the interview."

Kingsley nodded. "Did you honestly think your efforts would be effective?"

Draco shrugged his shoulders. "Rita told me it was doubtful when she gave me the advice. Kate told me it was doubtful when she gave me the interview. But she did promise to try." He paused as he understood. They knew. But they didn't have the actual proof. "I . . ." Draco tried to think. He couldn't lie or anything because if he were innocent he would still have no idea what was going on. "I'm sorry, Mister Shacklebolt. I honestly did not know I was doing anything wrong. After all, Sirius Black was there, as was his partner. Neither one said anything."

"It wasn't the interview," Kingsley informed him. "What did you say to the reporter after the interview?"

"Only goodbye," Draco admitted, "and after that, Sirius asked her to say something mean about the other bloke. And we left."

"And that was all?"

"Went out for a pizza. Then Sirius took me back to Hogwarts." He scowled. "And I walked back to the school all by myself in the cold, thank you very much." He was still scowling. "You still haven't told me what I've done."

"In a moment," Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted. "I must insist you tell me everything you did and said at the interview."

"If you saw the interview, you know what I said." Draco was angry, but mostly at himself. He finally figured an out. "You wanna know everyt'ing I did, I'll tell you." He took a deep breath and went back to the fancy voice. "First off, I did that interview. Next, I went to the loo. And yes, I will go into more detail if you want. I even washed my hands afterward." He paused. No one even laughed. "Then I said goodbye, followed Sirius to the elevator. Waited for the lift." He gave a sarcastic grin. "I even picked up a scrap of paper off the floor. No bins in the lobby, so that nice lady, Kate, offered to throw it away for me. And then we entered the elevator. After that I cleverly pressed the correct button to take us . . ."

"Piece of paper?" Sirius Black asked with a voice of impending dread. His eyes told Draco that the boy was a flippin' genius. "Was it?" He made a gesture with his fingers to suggest size. Draco nodded. Sirius, a true artist, wiped imaginary sweat from his brow as he almost shouted, "Bloody Hell."

Draco sneered. "Don' curse roun' the lil'uns."

Sirius was hanging his head. "It must have fallen out of my pocket. When I couldn't find it, I thought I had left it at the house." When he was asked what, Sirius waved a hand at Justin. "The instructions that his father gave me to give Mick."

Draco was proud of how surprised he sounded. "Whot?"

"You were right, Kingsley," Sirius said as he shook his head. "The boy did give the information to that reporter."

"Sorry, mate," Justin said. "Should have known you wouldn't lie to me."

"Could I ask," Draco insisted, "What is this all about?"

"The article I read to you," Justin reminded him. "No one knew how that reporter found out."

A real feeling of dread came over Draco. "How bad is it?"

"Mister Finch-Fletchley," Albus Dumbledore suggested, "Why don't you tell him over a late breakfast. There is no need for the two of you to stand out here any longer."

As Draco stood up, Kingsley was telling Sirius Black he would have to come with him.

"Why?" Draco turned around in an instant. "It were a mistake, you know that."

Kingsley turned to Draco. "He deliberately went to your house to deliver the information. That constitutes involvement."

"'e was goin' there anyway." Draco was trying not to yell. "'e was jus' the messenger. Can't fault 'im for lettin' a frien' spen' time wit' 'is family."

Kingsley did not appreciate the interruption. He scowled as he said. "I didn't follow a word you said, and I didn't like the tone."

"What Draco said . . ." Justin was also angry. He knew this part was true. ". . . was that Sirius Black only delivered the message so that MY father could spend the holiday with his family."

"Mister Finch-Fletchley, do you honestly believe that Sirius Black would want to take Draco Malfoy on a Christmas holiday and spend the day with him?"

"Not wit' me," Draco said with surprising humility. "Wit' 'is . . ." Draco took a deep breath. "With his goddaughter." Everyone had the reaction that he expected. They were all waiting for the punch line. "We're brother and sister because we said we were. When things started going bad for her and Mick, he promised to watch over them, over her. And he promised Janice that he would help me. He's her godfather because he says he is."

Draco told everyone the truth about things that happened during that Christmas stay. He mentioned Sirius telling Andy all about London, even though the kid couldn't understand a word. Sirius teasing Cheryl about Father Christmas.

Kingsley agreed to believe him provided he stopped with the sob stories.

"And he was doing a favour," Draco insisted, "for the Finch-Fletchley's."

Kingsley Shacklebolt was saying it didn't matter. If he meant to deliver the letter or whatever, he was deliberately involved. If it was only a favour, he was at fault for losing that piece of paper. Sirius Black was guilty one way or the other. They would grant him the benefit of the doubt that he didn't mean to drop that piece of paper.

"I know about politics," Justin was saying, "but how can you be sure that it was Mister Black? Someone could have seen them at the studio and used him as a cover for their own plan." It was an old tactic, Draco knew. It was called grasping at straws.

Two new thoughts entered Draco's head. Sirius Black was more involved with Mick and Janice than he had guessed. Also, Black had developed a close relationship with the Finch-Fletchleys.

Draco didn't know why he said what he did but he felt he had to do something. His motto was that if you didn't know any more lies, try telling the truth. And if the truth didn't help, just tell the biggest lie you can think of.

"Cause I saw 'im drop that paper, Justin. I even looked at it. An' I smiled like this at the reporter when I gave it to 'er." Draco smiled and put a finger up to his lips. "I saw that so-called interview with Janice."

He looked up at Professor Dumbledore. "You can't expel me, Sir, but you can't keep me here, either. With your permission, I'll return on the days of the next two tasks to fulfill my obligations. Then you will be done with me."

Draco turned to leave when he was told to stop. By Albus Dumbledore.

"I can keep you from leaving, Mister Malfoy. You are here by the order of your legal guardian. And he has not seen fit to give you permission."

"Also, Mister Malfoy," This was Kingsley Shacklebolt. "You have given me three different versions of the same story. And all of them are false. Will you tell me the truth?"

Draco looked at Kingsley with surprising calm. Kingsley Shacklebolt the mind reader. "No."

"And may I ask, why not?"

A pause, just long enough for a bitter smile to grace Draco's lips. "Saint Brutus." He turned his view to the headmaster. "Professor, with your permission I will return to breakfast."


Justin didn't even try to explain what was going to happen now that they understood how the secret got out, except that Sirius Black would not be used as a courier just because he was conveniently going there.

The by-election was becoming a major scandal. While no one could decide for which side, it was still all over the news. Mick admitting that he was being overwhelmed by the reaction his entry made, and his quick recover that he hoped the fireworks wouldn't drown out what he was trying to say. The incumbent was also expressing his surprise, and delight that it might energize the people into being more active.

Justin frowned as he passed on one bit of information. The reporter who gave that pre-Christmas interview was promoted to a supervisory position. Draco smiled. That meant the man didn't have a camera on him anymore. No more bylines.

Justin laughed. "You mean that they kicked him upstairs to get him out of the way?" It was the perfect revenge on an egotist.


Draco was in one of the greenhouse. The silver cup was perched on the guitar case. He was playing the scales on his guitar. He was becoming good at it. After a while, he opened his book to the new song he wanted to learn. He played the first notes slowly as he read them from the sheet. A thrill went through his body. He was playing the notes without much of a fumble. As he reached the chorus, someone walked in. Kingsley Shacklebolt.

The man stepped forward at a slow pace, as though he didn't want to interrupt. It seemed like it was planned when he stopped just as Draco finished the chorus. The boy looked up. The man was looking lazily at the guitar.

"Why did you insist on lying? Even when we knew you were lying" Kingsley asked. "I talked to the reporter. I looked into her mind."

"Why didn't you tell everyone the truth?"

"Because I remembered something. I wanted to make sure I was correct. It is about your memory."

Draco looked up. He felt like he wanted to cry but knew it would do no good. He didn't smile. He couldn't. With an effort, he nodded his head. Yes.

Kingsley nodded. He promised he would take care of things. As he left, Draco began to play the notes to the second stanza.

A beetle walked out from behind a potted plant. It transformed at once into Rita Skeeter. She picked up the cup and looked at it curiously. And she smiled as she asked Draco what it was that Kingsley wanted to know. Draco answered her in one word. Everything.


The next Sunday. Draco Malfoy is not at Hogwarts. He is in a car. Evelyn Brown is driving. Sirius Black is sitting next to her. And Draco is in the back seat. He is dressed neatly in a black suit, with a white shirt and a silver tie. He is wearing a pair of glasses with clear lenses. He has a gold earring in one ear. He is being taken to an interview.

The car pulls into a parking garage. Draco steps out and walks toward the lift. There is another car there, fancier. The chauffeur opens the door for Draco. There is an older man inside. Draco recognized him from his picture in the paper. The one next to Mick's.

"I hate cloak and dagger," the man said, "but you are too much of an enigma, Mister Malfoy."

"Thank you, Minister," Draco said in his fancy voice. "May I ask why we are meeting at all? It does seem odd."

"It is. And I will be direct. Your friend is single minded in his interest. He has even referenced Danny Malloy in several of his speeches. Simply to remind everyone about Saint Brutus Academy. My researchers have already chronicled his own stay there, but your stay? It was for such a brief period of time, yet it produced a great racket. I was curious."

Draco snarled. "You and your friends are going to reopen it. And you want to know why I cause all that racket? Ask my parole officer."

"Not the answer I expected," the Minister said. "Why would I ask a police officer?"

"He hates that place more than I do. It's a school, Sir, and the students learn their lessons well. And the guards give them plenty of reason to put their new skills into practice. Don't you know? Most graduates of Saint Brutus end up taking adult education in other fine British Institutions." He sneered. "After all, Scotland Yard arranged my return."

It was a nice speech. It was almost word for word what Detective Givens had said when he explained it to Draco the third time. And the Minister was looking thoughtful. Draco had assumed it common knowledge that the raid was planned. The Minister asked for the name of the parole officer.

Draco understood. He was being used, again. The Minister knew something was up but he had no way of getting a straight answer. He couldn't ask Mick. Mick was technically the enemy. So he lured Draco here to get the information he needed. And that information was Andrew Givens. To confirm this, the Minister told Draco that Saint Brutus may not reopen after all.

But . . . It didn't feel right. There was something wrong with all of this. Why would the Minister choose him? And how could he have arranged all this without . . . help? Draco grinned, almost laughed.

"Are you a squib?"

The Minister smiled. "You are the clever lad. No. I have no magical ability, whatsoever. It was my cousin. She was my best friend as well. She told me about her letter. And a wizard made me make a special promise never to tell another muggle." He smiled as he remembered. "We kept in touch. I even attended her wedding. He was a good-looking man. You might have heard of him? Fabian Prewitt?" The smile faded. "I heard about their funeral. His sister still writes on occasion. Christmas cards and such."

"I never heard of them. I was raised as a muggle," Draco told him.

"No matter." The Minister shrugged it off. "As for finding you, it took me a while to figure it out. No one ever bothered to correct your name. So I dared to ask my only connection with your world." He paused. "I didn't know you were that popular."

Draco returned the grin. "I'm well known. Not popular. There is a difference."

The Minister laughed at the remark and wished him good luck. Draco thanked him and then asked him for a favour. There was the contest at school and he was given a cup as a clue. Any suggestions would be helpful.

"Let's go with the obvious. Have you tried drinking out of it? Maybe the cup has some kind of effect and gives you a vision or something."

"Cor, never thought of that," Draco muttered. "It's worth a try."

"Remember to let me know if I'm right."

Draco left the car and began to walk back across the parking garage. About halfway there he stopped. He was remembering what Rita Skeeter had told him. About having a good story. He made the mistake of thinking about his time at Saint Brutus.

The car behind him had started up. He could hear it start to pull off. He heard it stop. A door opened. Footsteps. Sirius Black was also getting out of his car. Both converged on Draco. The Minister spoke first.

"I'm hardly more than a backbencher, but I do know how to read people. Draco, would you tell me why you stopped. What did you remember? Was it something about Saint Brutus?"

"Remember?" Draco was laughing. He knew the laugh made him sound slightly mad. "I remember everything."

"Bloody Hell," Sirius Black said as he realized what that meant.

The Minister repeated the word, "Everything", in such a way that he guessed what Draco was saying. "Do you mean . . . the drug . . . what happened?"

Draco gave his mad laugh, then said calmly, "Small error, that idiot assistant put one of the psycotropics on the wrong shelf again."

The Minister obliged by repeating the last word in a shocked voice.

"He won't be screaming like that other one?" Draco asked in a gruffer voice.

"Draco?" Sirius Black had his hand on the boy's shoulder. Draco was looking at the floor. His voice was low.

"I remember cursing Alastor Moody as he tied my hands to the bedpost. I was trying to gouge my eyes out but he wouldn't let me. The bastard wouldn't understand. I couldn't do anything about those demons burning my limbs and biting into my flesh, but if I could rip my eyes out of my head, at least I wouldn't have to look at them anymore. I hated him for that."


Draco awoke in the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey was there. She placed a potion by his bed. It would guarantee he had a dreamless sleep. It was almost midnight. Draco didn't bother asking what happened. Some kind of sleep spell. To keep him from talking. To keep him from thinking. He rolled over in the bed and forced himself to relive the effects of that drug. The last thing he needed was to have some sudden memory stop him in his tracks.

The next morning, a tired Draco explained it away as food poisoning. Sirius Black had prepared dinner for them. It helped make the story believable that Sirius Black made it a point to ask Draco if he was feeling better.