A/N: As usual, I can't think of anything to say. I'd best leave it at that before I prove that I'm right. Thanks to all of you for showing up. I hope you enjoy the read.

Chapter 26: The Third Task

Draco awoke on the morning of May 24 feeling refreshed. He had a plan to prevent the Dark Lord's return. It might also save his life.

Just in case, he had made his preparations. He confided to his friends that his plan might not work completely. All of his co-conspirators assured him it would. Hermione told him to worry more about after. That was the only part that couldn't be planned. Justin reminded him to make sure he knew how to run like hell. And where. Fred and George were the serious ones. They promised that if the worst happened, they would make sure his family was safe, even if they had to smuggle all of them into the Burrow without their mother noticing.

"Mione," Draco said without emotion, "If the worst happens, tell Kreacher he must choose his new master." He lost his composure briefly. "It's the only parting gift I have for him."

Hermione nodded her head. "And don't worry. The worst won't happen."

The last visits were already made. He bragged to Walburga that he would make her proud. He promised Hagrid that the giant could carry the cup after he won it, to make sure everyone could see it. Hagrid demurred and suggested he carry Draco instead, so Draco could show everyone the cup. Rita Skeeter was promised an exclusive interview with the winner, guaranteed by Sirius Black.

The last person he talked to was Remus Lupin. The DADA professor asked if he needed more practice. He laughed at the reply, "Yeah, about three years' worth." As Draco left, Remus reminded him to keep in mind the things that he had been told. And a certain werewolf would assume, until a certain Gryffindor told him otherwise, that his suggestion had been put to use.

The only person Draco did not talk to was Sirius Black. The man claimed he was too busy and the best thing Draco could do was stay out of trouble. As he rushed off, he muttered, "It would be a new experience."

Draco arrived at breakfast in a good mood. Hermione was there to greet him as he walked between the two tables to where he usually sat. Justin turned around to wish him luck. As he sat, a plate appeared in front of him. A good luck present from Kreacher. His favorite breakfast: Bangers and Mash with toast and jam on the side (to make sure he ate enough to be full).

Even the owls improved his mood as they delivered the mail. A package and letter from Lilian Brown. She was thrilled that Draco enjoyed the first book. And she considered his questions well thought out. That was why she sent him the second book. It dealt with the most common questions and problems with psychology.

It was then that Dean commented, "look who's here." Draco, along with everyone else looked to the entrance. Draco's heart dropped. Bartemius Crouch, the Minister for Magic, had entered the Great Hall. Making it a point to acknowledge Angelina and ignore Draco, he walked by on his way to the teachers table.

Draco's first thought was that the fix had been discovered. The Minister was here to reveal the plan to everyone. Draco's second thoughts were foreboding. The Minister did not know. He honestly thought that Draco's poor showing in the second task was a guarantee that he couldn't win. The man was returning to the limelight assured that he would not be embarrassed.

Draco finished his meal with much less cheer than he started it. The Minister's appearance could only be a bad omen.


It had just gone ten when Draco was admitted to the room where the champions were gathered. Bartemius Crouch was proudly standing before a small low table on which sat four rolled parchments. The champions stood in a row according to their rankings. Their school representatives behind them. Lugo Bagman was standing behind him. To look on his face, you would have thought he didn't have a worry in the world. Barty, Junior was next to him trying to look like he was happy to see his father. Sirius Black was standing off to one side, mostly watching Draco. Even Professor Duracam noticed. "It's like he doesn't trust you, boy."

The Minister made a small speech about how wonderfully the tournament had progressed and that it had been exciting and interesting. The rules for the final task were then explained. The parchments contained maps and a brief description of what to expect. The tournament began at Two. That gave everyone four hours to decide what to take with them, subject to approval. He closed by saying he regretted that he did not have a chance to congratulate everyone on the second task. He looked around the room pausing at Draco to smile. "If no one has an objection, I would like to reverse the order on how the parchments are chosen. That way, as it is appropriate, I can congratulate each champion personally, in the order of their success. As none of the champions know the contents, I don't see any problem."

No one knew of any reason to object. Any legitimate reason.

Draco had the urge to say something but stopped as Professor Duracam put her hand on his shoulder. He glanced upward to see her smirking. It seemed that she also felt the Minister was being petty. And she confirmed it. As the Minister called Angelina Johnson forward, Professor Duracam leaned down to whisper in his ear. Would he like to add slight for slight? Draco asked in turn if water was wet. She explained to him how easy it was.

After Angelina chose her parchment, Viktor Krum stepped forward. He shook the Minister's hand and chose his parchment. Fleur stepped forward. Draco waited. As it came his turn, he stepped up to the table. The Minister, smile slightly forced held out his hand. And Draco said, as he reached to take it, "I am going to win, you know." He deliberately grinned as the Minister's smile became more forced.


As Draco unrolled the parchment, his heart sank. He was not heading east, but west. Northwest to be exact. To a desolate lake in the middle of nowhere called Loch A Bhealaich Leamhain. There was a simple map that showed the Loch and how far away it was. And there was a spot marked on it. Carn Dearg. He knew nothing about Scotland except that Hogwarts was supposed to be remote from any muggle places, and this place seemed remote from any place. Yet it was only supposed to be 15 klicks away, as the broom flies. Perhaps not even that.

As he sat at his table for lunch, he pondered exactly what he should do. The Minister was keeping both Bagman and his son away from everyone, not only him. And he wasn't doing it to be mean or anything. It was the final meeting before the final task. They were too busy preparing for after the task.

Angelina stopped to wish him luck and ask him if he had any hints to give. He asked where she was going. She told him south east to the other side of the lake some ten kilometers. Draco hesitated. "Don't go into the room if you can help it."

Angelina smiled. "I don't know if I should believe you or not." She wished him luck again and proceeded to join Fred and George and most of the Quidditch team.

Hermione eyes Draco carefully. He knew what she wanted to ask. He nodded his head. His lip curled as he watched her, she was becoming more nervous as the time passed. One would think that she was the one who had to undertake the task.

As Draco stood up to get ready, he looked around for the other champions. They had talked briefly about their plans once they knew they were flying. Angelina said she was going to wear her Quidditch uniform regardless of how she was going to fly. Viktor asked at once for permission to copy her, and that decided the issue. Bagman at the first objected but that lasted less than two seconds. He agreed but warned them he would now have to wear his old uniform as well. He also warned them he was not in as good a shape as when he played professionally with the Wimbourne Wasps.

Madame Maxime was giving moral support to Fleur Delacour, making her easy to spot. Viktor was already walking out with Karkaroff. He gave Draco a quick salute. Draco gave him a thumbs up. He turned around and found the person he was looking for.

Since Angelica had seniority and because it was her idea, she would wear Gryffindor colours. Draco thought of Hufflepuff. Justin was in that house. So was Cedric Diggory, whom he owed a favour. He mostly wanted to do it because it was Alastor Moody's former house. Before he said anything, he had another thought. If he won the cup, he would meet someone who did not think much of that house. He would be more likely impressed by one of the other houses.

"Are you ready?" Professor Snape asked. "I have your uniform in my office. And I want to take a picture as well."

Ron Weasley reacted. "Slytherin? You're wearing Slytherin colours."

Draco gave him a smile. "If I can't wear my mum's colours, I'll wear Dad's." He shrugged. "Angelina said it was a noble thought."

"Professor," Hermione saw Ron's face and couldn't help herself. She dared to ask. "Could I bother you for a print?"

"Of course, Hermione. I would be delighted."

They went to the Professor's office where Draco quickly changed into the green uniform with silver trim. He posed for a picture, then had another idea. When the professor agreed they had time, they left the office and walked to a certain corridor where there was a portrait with a flower box hanging in front of it. She smiled as he approached.

"Percillia, do you see. Draco's come by."

"Walburga," Severus called out. "I've brought my camera."

Walburga Black laughed. "And what would I do with a photograph? Let me admire my little boy for a minute before you run off."

After only a few minutes, Walburga chased him off least he be late. There was still a half hour left and all Draco had to do was reach the Quidditch pitch. In a pinch, he could call on Kreacher. It would be more fun, however, seeing everyone's reactions as he walked to his place.

There was one more turn before they came to the staircases when someone started walking toward him. Someone he didn't expect.

"Potter?"Severus Snape was in no mood for any last minute trouble.

"Malfoy needs a broom. I saw what he picked. It's good but it's not good enough." Harry Potter held out an almost brand new Firebolt. He wasn't smiling. "I haven't had much chance to use it."

Draco gingerly took the broom, half afraid of some trick. He mumbled a thank you then asked why. Potter answered him by addressing Professor Snape. "You should tell him . . . Sir."

"Tell him what?" Snape's voice was deliberately threatening as he stared into Potter's eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Potter's voice was angry and frustrated. "I don't know how to prove it."

"Prove what?"

Severus Snape gave a derisive laugh. "Mister Potter has convinced himself that you are the Chosen One. Do you understand the reference?"

"Yeah," Draco answered snidely. "I'm supposed to defeat Voldemort single-handedly while everyone watches. " He paused, then said in a kind voice, "Thank you for the broom, though."

Potter stormed off. He was becoming a strange blighter. At least he was being helpful. Plenty of time was becoming cutting it close when there was one more interruption. Professor Lestrange was waiting at the doors. He said he was there to see his godson off. He then apologized for not coming earlier but he had taken a small trip. He also suggested they continue walking.

Draco naturally asked his godfather where he's gone. Rodolphus explained that he went to see the house that he was born in. He always found it restful. "You should try it, sometime, if you get the chance. It helps give perspective to things." His always smiling face turned to Professor Snape. "Severus, have a good day."

Draco understood what Uncle Rodolphus was doing. He had done the same thing, just in case. He was saying his goodbyes.


Professor Duracam gave Professor Snape a curt thank you as she took Draco from him. Her first question was about the broom. She led him to the Pitch which was the starting and end point of the task. In the center if the pitch was a square wall. The professor said that each side must be at least one hundred feet, maybe one twenty. Draco asked what that was in meters. He was told that five miles equals nine kilometers and he could do the math. She was in the Athletics department. Draco nodded and glanced through the gate as they walked toward the platform where the Minister was waiting. In the center, on a plinth, sat the cup. The path led straight to it, graced on each side by what appeared to be a typical English garden.. It seemed there was a gate in the center of each side.

The professor was asking about an important subject. How many people knew?

Draco paused to look at the cup as he gave her as honest an answer as he could. Among the teachers, Professors Snape, Lestrange, Crouch and Lupin. Among the students, Justin and Hermione. Angelina had suspicions about the tournament but no idea about the cup. Crouch was the only one who didn't know what Draco was planning. Arthur Weasley knew. He was the one who explained it to Draco. He was the one who said to be careful who he said anything to.

It was foolishness, she told him. Letting a boy of fourteen take such a risk. She demanded a good reason not to tell Dumbledore at once. Draco could only think of two. And both were related. Jack's prophecy said it was something he had to do. And Professor Lestrange said that if he did this they might die. If he didn't, they would die. Everyone would become his enemy.

As they reached the other champions, Draco had to smile. Fleur Delacour, in her sky blue quidditch uniform (she was a chaser, like Angelina) was the only one who did not chose a broom. He commented that she had chosen a thestral. She would tell him it had greater speed than a broom, and had greater mobility. Viktor Krum's uniform was fiery red. It was the same on he had worn in the World Cup. Angelina Johnson was in the scarlet and gold of Gryffindor. Angelina also told Draco he looked good in green. She ruined it by laughing.

As the Minister called everyone to order, the champions lined up. Professor Duracam wished him luck and warned him she might inform Dumbledore anyway. That proved quickly not to be as Professor Dumbledore paused as he passed by to wish Draco good luck as well. He added that Professor Lupin had told him about the special lessons. It was said in cheerfulness but his face held no smile. And when Professor Duracam asked if they could talk, Dumbledore assured her there was no need, but . . . perhaps she would like to join him for conversation. He expected they would have some time to wait and he was willing to offer tea and cake.

Draco knew at once that Lupin had told the man everything. He also knew that Dumbledore had his reservations but was going to let him do it. The man was an enigma. Draco smiled inwardly, remembering when Hermione had explained that word to him.

As Minister Crouch rambled on about honour, Draco looked up at the stands. The Slytherins were there. When Vince and Greg saw him looking in their direction, they waved. Draco raised his hand in return. At this, the Slytherins cheered. Malfoy may be in Gryffindor but he was wearing their colours. Today, he was their champion. That cheer earned him a glare from the Minister. Draco pumped his fist in the air, resulting in more cheers.

The speech seemed to drag on. Draco's best guess was that the Minister was determined to speak for a specific amount of time as opposed to saying anything in particular.

"And now," the Minister called out, as Fleur who was standing next to him gave sigh of relief, "the time has come. Champions, take your starting positions."

Draco, as things worked out, had the furthest walk. He had barely reached his starting point when the call came out to mount. He mounted his broom. A few seconds later, the sound of a cannon was heard. The task had begun.


Desolate was a good word to describe the area he was flying over. Everything was barren once he had flown over the nearest hills. There were some field and trees near the rivers and streams he passed over but no people. Draco seriously doubted that any people were in the area except for the lone hiker. As he drew near to the lake, there was nothing except the occasional patch of grass and plenty of barren rock. Near to the lake most of the rocks were covered in a brown moss. At least that was what it looked like from the air. When he finally reached Loch A Bhealaich Leamhain, the moss seemed to cover almost everything. He made a mental note to ask Professor Sprout what kind it was.

Carn Dearg was easy to spot. It was a long sloping hill on the far side of the loch. At the ridge was a large rock. A pile of rocks to be exact. A glint of light off metal told him that the box was at the base of the rocks. There appeared to be brown moss around there as well.

As Draco began his flight downward, he noticed something. The moss was not continuous. Patches of bare rock could be seen. Sometimes he could see patches of green moss. Nothing else. Bare rock. Moss. The Carn. He was low enough when he could see the box clearly. He reached into his pocket for the bronze coin so that he could be done as quickly as possible. It was then he noticed the change. One of the clumps of moss had moved. And it was no longer a clump of moss.

A harpy!

The other clumps began to move and change as well. The first harpy had already stretched its wings and screeched as it rose to attack. And Draco understood the trap he had flown into. The harpies had been spelled to look like moss. The illusion vanished only when he came close enough to the Carn,

"STUPIFY."

The first harpy dropped to the ground, stunned. Eight other harpies were taking to the air. A half dozen more were preparing to do so. Draco yelled another spell, then pulled up on his broomstick. If he was right, he had fifteen more to vanquish before he could reach his goal. Their screeching filled the air, louder than he expected.

"OOF."

Draco was hit from behind. He felt a claw score his back. At least it would have except for the protective leather of his quidditch uniform. He swerved on his broom to face it and cast another stunning spell. The harpy fell. Four others near behind it closed for an attack. Draco pointed his wand and screamed.

Three harpies flew out of the way while one fell to the ground in flames. But he didn't stay to watch. A dozen more of the creatures were behind them and closing in.

Draco turned his broom upward and flew as fast as he could. His immediate thought was to get above them. Once he had time, he would think of a strategy. But the screeching was getting louder. He risked looking around.

Below him, some two dozen were rising more quickly than he had thought possible. But, on all sides of him, other harpies were also in the air. All were concentrating on him. His best guess was that a hundred or more were after him.

Thoughts raced through Draco's head. So many could easily overwhelm him. And the thought that held his attention the most was "why so many?"

Crouch? The bastard planned this! That was why he took so long. He needed to know which goal would be Draco's. He made sure his men had enough time to set the trap and get away.

And Draco? Other champions had died in the past. If it happened to him, he was sure the official number of harpies would be much smaller. Crouch would probably say something like the cocky boy should never have put his name in, that he only had himself to blame.

But that did not solve the immediate problem. Draco couldn't fly much higher and the harpies were faster than he had hoped. He hit on a daring plan and began flying west toward the smallest group, some twenty flying close together. He flew directly at them, ignoring all the others for now. As he closed in, he raised his wand and screamed. A wash of flame flew out of his wand and caused the flock to scatter. And Draco flew through the gap.

One harpy was still near. It was out of the path of the flame and flew in as the others flew outward. It was above him and coming down. A quick stunning spell caused it to fall past him. A second harpy, from below, bit into his boot. It drew blood and caused him to curse but did little damage. He shouted "Petrificus Totalus" and it, too, dropped away.

But it did slow him down. The others were regrouping and coming toward him. The mass behind him was coming ever closer. Draco screamed as he waved his wand and rushed forward as fast as he could go.

After one minute of concentrating only on flying, he dared to look back. The nearest harpy was only meters away. And behind him was a brown cloud of racing birds with screaming hags heads. He shouted a hex and the closest one fell. But his broom also slowed as he broke his concentration. He went back to flying and tried to think of what to do.

They were too close. One swooped at him. Its claws ripped a deep cut into the padding on his right arm. He never had a chance to raise his wand against it. Another swooped and missed him. He felt the claw brush his cheek.

Draco jumped off his broom. The Bulgarian Drop they now called it. He had done this once before, and this time he knew what he would do. And he did drop. He was high enough that he could choose his moment. But he needed to be as far away from those beasts as possible. He counted to ten. He couldn't risk more than that. When he remounted his broom, he was well under the flock and still flying downward. He began to pull up on the broom and head east, back toward the Carn. If he had enough luck, he could stop to grab the key and still have time to fly back to Hogwarts. A look upward told him he wouldn't have that luxury of that pipe dream.

There was plenty of distance between them but the harpies now had the advantage of height. They were diving toward him, their gain in speed cutting quickly into any advantage he had. All he could do was buy more time.

As he flew up Carn Dearg, he kept low over the mossy slope. He reached the ridge and flew past the box. Flying was now his only hope and a slim one. The trap had been too well set. He would never make it back to the school. He needed to find a place to make a stand. And quickly.

He was hit from above and all hope was gone. This time he was knocked down. He hit the ground and rolled, somehow missing any large rocks or boulders. It was a bit of luck he was not rolling directly forward. That would have taken him down the deep slope to the loch. He did hit plenty of small ones and by the time he stopped he wished he didn't have to move. His one small miracle was that he held on to his wand.

He rolled over onto his back and raised his wand, screaming as he did so. The harpies scattered as the flame roared out of his wand but they were smart. They knew he couldn't scream forever. They flew just out of range and waited.

His breath failed. The flames died away. The first harpy swooped down from twenty meters away. Its claws were raised to strike at him. It was ten meters away.

A black form swept past and the harpy was gone. The great flock scattered in panic. There was a new target and it was much bigger than the first. A great roaring flame, much larger and hotter than Draco could ever make, shot over him. The few harpies who tried to attack him either fled or were burned to ashes.

But the harpies did not flee far. Almost as one, they circled around for another attack. Draco did not stop to think. He couldn't. It was the best chance he had. He began to shout curses as the harpies came to terms with their new enemy. They were still too numerous but the odds were becoming more even.

The dragon howled as a score of harpies circled it, trying to nip at her or scratch her when they could, each flying out of the way when the dragon turned to them. More were joining them and just as many were returning to attack Draco. The only constant were the dragon's flames. In twos and threes the harpies were dying. But they were still enough to overwhelm. Draco screamed four or five times to keep his attackers at bay but he could do nothing to help the dragon. Worse, he was getting hoarse. His last scream produced half the flame of the first one.

The cavalry came.

Every British boy had watched enough American westerns to know what that meant. But this cavalry was not lead by a general in a white hat. It was led by an angry highlander by the name of Angus McFusty. And two dozen men on brooms were behind him, all calling out stunning and freezing spells. It took them ten minutes. Every harpy was either stunned, frozen into place, burned to ashes or eaten.

Draco looked at the dragon. Pride filled him for what she had done. And gratitude, that she would risk her own life to come to his aid. In turn, he knew what she felt. Not anger for getting into such a mess. She was proud of him. That he did not give up. That he did not run away from a fight. At least, not because he was scared.


Angus landed near him, ignoring the dragon. His first words were so thick with his Scottish accent that Draco could only guess what he said. Charlie Weasley landed next to the man. Draco's first thought was that he was going to be the translator.

Angus McFusty took a deep breath and looked up at the dragon. "Yer pardon, Ma'am." He turned back to Draco. The first question was if he was barmy. The second was what was wrong with the harpies. The third was to ask, in a colourful manner, what exactly was going on.

"The third task," Draco told him. "I think I was supposed to defeat all of these by myself." He deliberately smiled. "Please don't tell anyone you helped." He let the smile drop. "I do need to be going. I need to win this."

Charlie laughed as Angus shouted that Draco was a raving lunatic. He didn't shout more than that because a scriech was heard. One of the harpies had recovered and was now flying directly toward Draco. A dragon handler pulled out his wand and shouted, not a curse or hex but the cancelling spell. "Finite Incantatum." The harpy broke its flight, looked around it, then flew off in panic. The man called out that he had seen it's eyes. It had been cursed.

"Cursed," Angus muttered. "Someone cursed an entire nest and then some?" He paused to explain. "They're scavengers, lad. Dangerous if they think yer an easy target, but cowards at heart. Someone must truly hate ye."

"Must be over a hundred," One of the other fliers commented, causing Charlie to ask, "Why would they use this many?"

"Me?" Draco asked innocently. "The Minister doesn't want me to win, you know."

That was all it took. Angus changed his attitude at once. He asked Draco what he needed to do, then told the boy to fetch the key while they cleaned up the mess. As Draco walked (limped, thanks to a bitten foot) to the box, orders were issued. The curses were being cancelled on all the harpies. Each one fled as soon as it was able. Except for two or three that were eaten by the dragon.

Draco dropped his coin through the opening in the top of the box. The box opened. Charlie (Draco didn't even know he had followed) cast a spell to see if there were any traps. He then cast a spell to disarm it. A grateful Draco reached into the box and pulled out the key.

"My broom?"

"Didn't survive the fall. Sorry, mate." Charlie smiled. "Still want to win?"

Draco gave him a look saying he had asked a stupid question. Charlie laughed and said he had a plan of his own. He called to Angus and told him what he was going to do. Angus nodded and told everyone to grab their brooms. The remaining harpies would have to wait. The man glanced at the dragon, turned back to Charlie and nodded. As Charlie grabbed Draco's arm, the dragon looked at him with curiosity. Then Charlie took a curious step.


"Here's my broom," Charlie said. "I can apparate to Hogsmeade from here and walk to the Castle. Do you know where we are?"

Draco did. It was the site of his first detention with Professor Sprout. Charlie Weasley told him to get going and to look out for any last minute traps. He also said he had to warn Dumbledore that company was coming. There was a popping noise as he apparated.

Draco did not hesitate. He was on the broom and flying back to Hogwarts. He did not have far to go. As he cleared the hill, the school grounds lay open before him. In less than a minute he would be at the gate.

Someone was already there. As Draco approached, he saw Viktor Krum dismount his broom and walk toward his own gate. Viktor looked up and his walk became determined. As Draco reached the pitch, viktor put his key into the lock and turned. His gate opened. Taking no chances, Krum closed the gate behind him and began to run.

Draco raised his wand and cast Ostendo at the gated wall. The three locked gates glowed a golden colour. A golden dome covered the inner area. He smiled. No one could simply fly over the wall. And there was another reason to smile. The gate that Viktor went through no longer had a spell on it.

Flying the broom as fast as he could, Draco changed his direction to that gate. With a quick turn he was through it and flying much faster than Viktor could run. He pointed his wand and shouted, "ALOHAMORA". The gate flew open. It wouldn't be close. He passed Viktor with ten meters to go and reached down to grab the cup.

There was a loud boom that made both champions stop, Draco within a hand's reach of the cup, Viktor Krum three meters behind. And Sirius Black was flying straight at them and shouting. With a quick curse. Draco reached for the cup. As he grabbed the handle, Sirius grabbed him. Then the world spun away.

As the world came back into focus, Draco found himself rolling on the ground. He came to a stop as he hit flat stone. Every bruise and cut began to hurt as the new pain added itself to the total. To add insult to injury, Sirius Black was standing above him asking if he was hurt.

"ARE YOU BLOODY MAD?" Draco was furious. His carefully laid plans were all in ruins.

Sirius tried to calm him as Draco showed his extensive vocabulary. He stopped when he was told, "you almost killed me." Not that Sirius was listening. He was drawing his wand as he looked past Draco. The wand went flying as someone called, "Expeliarmus." Draco knew that voice as well. Peter Pettigrew. As he turned around, he heard another voice. Voldemort's.

"Such a temper? I am surprised to hear such words from a Malfoy."

A twisted creature no bigger than a baby crouched in the crook of Pettigrew's arm. And Voldemort was smiling. A smile that told of no good.

The plan was in shambles. Draco could not stop the Dark Lord now. The unwilling sacrifice was here regardless. The only thing left now was survival. If nothing was done then Draco Malfoy was dead. Therefore, something would be done. He would put his original plan into action for a different purpose. Not to delay the Dark Lord. To guarantee that Draco Malfoy would live. He stepped forward as the Dark Lord began to say something to Peter Pettigrew about killing. Both paused to look at him. Draco knelt.

"Master, I ask you to forgive me for what I have done against you. It was done in ignorance. I ask that you not hold against me the actions of my parents as they were not mine. I beg for you to accept me as your loyal servant."