Chapter 5: The Pastry

Chapter Text

Three days later, Romania

'Down that road,' the old woman confirmed in broken English. 'On the right,' she pointed. 'Red door.' Harry thanked her, but she waved him off, too busy selling her produce. Harry did not like the look of the street, though it reminded him a little of Diagon Alley with its houses all leaning slightly towards the road, creating an archway of sorts. The windows were boarded up instead of fixed, and the place smelled of rotten food, animal droppings and potion fumes. This was more like Knockturn Alley, Harry decided.

The house with the red door was easily found. Inside he found an almost completely bare room. There was a stove in the corner, a rickety old table pressed against the wall with two stools under, and a bed against the opposite wall. The room was far from empty, however, as a group of people stood conversing in a tight circle. Old men mostly, all wizards, and one younger man, who looked like he was being interrogated. They all turned when Harry opened the door.

'You are the Auror from Britain?' one of them asked. Harry nodded. 'I am afraid you have come too late.' One of the old men gestured for him to follow. Eyes followed him intently as he passed the group into the back room. It also held a bed and a single chair. On it a woman sat, quietly sobbing into her hands. On the bed was who Harry had come for, but he was already dead. His face was frozen in a horrible grimace of pain.

Harry entered and stood respectfully by the bed, head bowed. The dead man looked old, but how much was the sickness was difficult to tell. If the woman had been his wife or partner, it was likely he was younger than he appeared. She didn't look older than forty.

The old man left them, and Harry waited for the woman to compose herself. She sniffed, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. She didn't look up, but she spoke clearly.

'He kept repeating a vow near the end,' she said. 'I give my power freely and willingly. I accept this binding and its terms.'

'We believe the Mark kills its bearer exactly ten years after their marking,' Harry said.

The woman nodded jerkily. 'Yes, it's been ten years. To the day.'

'Did he say anything else?'

'He...' she bowed her head. 'He kept asking for the Dark Lord, as if he were still alive. He was mostly incoherent by the end, but I think… I think he said he was ready to swear… again.'

Harry frowned at the man. He did not want to think ill of the dead, but it was difficult. Pain made people do things they would never normally do, he reminded himself.

'My condolences,' Harry said. 'Is there anything I can do for you?' The woman shook her head, mumbling her thanks.

Harry left her, feeling like it had been a wasted trip.

Three days without progress, and Draco only getting worse. Harry made sure to bring Scorpius for a few hours every day while he conferred with Hermione, but it was clear Draco would be on too many pain potions soon. He was strong, stronger than he gave himself credit for, but even he would not be able to stand the constant pain for long.

Hermione had been so busy treating the existing patients, she had made very little progress on the new incantation. If only Shacklebolt wasn't so easily swayed by public opinion, they might have gotten the resources they needed. Harry wanted to scream at him, or curse him, preferably.

When Harry got back across the canal, he did not feel like going back to his office. He went to St. Mungo's instead, and stopped by Draco's door. Perhaps he shouldn't bother them. He hesitated.

'Auror Potter?'

Scorpius had gone out to get some tea. He had a St. Mungo's mug in his hand, and looked worried. He probably thought Harry had some bad news, standing outside the door like this. 'Is something wrong?'

'No, nothing's wrong,' Harry tried to smile. 'I've just gotten back from Romania, just thought I'd check in. Did Healer Weasley bring you today?' Scorpius nodded.

'Father will want to see you,' he said, pushing inside the room. Harry followed, swallowing hard at the sight of Draco. He was propped up by pillows, but it looked like he was half asleep. He was deathly pale, with sunken eyes, and his marked arm was bandaged to keep him from scratching at it.

'Potter,' he said, voice weak. He managed to take the mug from Scorpius, which was something at least. 'Have a good trip?'

'Not really,' Harry said, but didn't elaborate. 'How are you?'

'Fine, Granger's potions helps a lot.' Harry didn't correct him. He thought maybe Scorpius should be taken back to Mr. Keller's.

'Well, I'll leave you to your tea.'

'You'll come back before you leave?' Scorpius asked. Harry promised, and Draco gave him a smile in thanks. It twisted painfully in his gut. He had to do something.

He brooded all the way down the hall to Hermione's office. It was full of Snape's papers and books from several libraries. She lifted her head from the one she was currently buried in and lifted her eyebrows in a silent question. Harry shook his head, and her face fell, looking back down. Harry seated himself across from her and waited for her to finish.

She slowly closed the book and sighed. 'Did they have any information?'

Harry relayed what the woman had said, and Hermione frowned. She started flipping through her notes.

'There is something,' she said. 'But I don't want to jump ahead.'

'If you have any theory, Hermione-'

'Not a theory yet, just a feeling, but put that aside for now.' She found whatever note she had been looking for. 'The change in wording is the only real lead we have,' she said. 'The auctoro means in this context "to hire", or to bind. They both begin with probare, so I think the first incantation signifies that the supplicant proves that he is willing to be hired.' She shook her head, but Harry nodded.

'It makes sense, sort of. The supplicant then swears the oath.'

'Exactly, that's what I think, at least.'

'It's good, Hermione.'

'No, because I haven't found a single other binding spell that's even remotely similar,' she sighed. 'My interpretation is just that, only my interpretation.'

'What about Snape's notes?'

'He does say something similar, but he was mostly concerned with the effects of the Mark.'

'Isn't that useful?' Harry frowned.

'Yes and no. Since we have accepted the theory that only the newer Mark is active, his observations of the old ones don't apply. At least, not without further evidence.'

Harry rubbed his temples. He needed some tea himself. Hermione stared at him sympathetically.

'What about the second incantation,' he said.

'That's where it gets strange,' she said, finding a different set of notes. 'It changes from servus to medeis, which means it changed from servant - or slave - to magic.'

'So, Voldemort went from hiring someone for their service to their magic?' Harry asked. 'The old one sounds worse, if you ask me.'

'I don't know.' Hermione looked hesitant to continue, but she pushed ahead. 'I need to see more memories of both bindings. Without seeing the spell being performed, there is no way to know if there were other elements at play. The incantation is not enough. A binding is a magical ritual.'

'We can get one of the Death Eaters in Azkaban to give you the older version again, in exchange for some perk,' Harry said. 'But a newer one...'

'I know every patient,' Hermione said, and Harry knew how true that was. She was working herself to death taking care of every single one. She probably knew all their life stories. 'Draco is currently the most powerful, magically and physically. Thanks to the stupid Prophet and the Ministry refusing to placate the public, no new Death Eaters have been admitted.'

'We need his memory, I get it. We aren't likely to get any stronger ones.'

'No, it's worse than that,' Hermione said. 'I seriously doubt we've admitted them all, but no new ones have come have to be scared.' The message was clear: thanks to the public and the Prophet's propaganda, any Death Eater with similar symptoms was going under ground instead of admitting themselves into care. Not to mention the ones stuck in Azkaban, forced to receive their pain potions from unsympathetic guards without any real oversight.

'Shit.' Harry leaned forward and put his head in his hands. 'Bloody Shacklebolt.'

'Harry-'

'No, this is unacceptable.' Harry rose and started pacing. The air became electric. Harry had always been powerful, but after his defeat of Voldemort, his temper and power had become legendary. He hadn't had an "incident" in years, however.

'Harry, calm down.'

'People are dying, alone and in horrible agony,' Harry spat, 'and the Minister is more concerned with public image and his bloody job!'

'I know, Harry, but we'll figure this out.'

'How many will die before we do? How many already have?' He knew exactly, and so did Hermione, but neither said it.

'We are all doing the best we can. That is all we can do.'

'And what can the Ministry do?' Harry asked. Hermione just shook her head and looked away. Harry's anger deflated. Yelling at his friend wasn't going to do anything but eat up time. 'I'll go talk to Draco.'

'Be gentle.' Harry nodded and left. He stopped short at the sight of a wizard sitting on one of the chairs in the corridor. He was reading theProphet and all Harry could see was the front page.

"Should the Ministry Investigate? Minister Silent on new Death Eater suspects. List of possible secret-Death Eaters on page six." There was an image of Gilfoyle on the front, with the caption "Undersecretary Juhlin is still in St. Mungo's, and has yet to be charged. Minister claims he knew nothing of employee's allegiances."

Harry felt his magic swirl around him again, but he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Losing control would help no one.

He heard some commotion at the far end of the corridor and turned. Several nurses and visitors were hurrying out of one of the rooms, all of them coughing and frantically waving their arms.

'Evacuate all non-patients and non-essential personnel,' one of the nurses cried to a healer who came running to help. 'We need to check all the rooms. The food, the mail, everything!'

The visitors were arguing, trying to be let back into the room to see their loved one, but the nurses were adamant about evacuation. Harry poked his head into Hermione's office again. 'You need to come quick,' he told her. She hurried out and Harry followed.

'Healer Weasley, the patient's room has been contaminated with bursting death caps!' Harry's potion skills weren't exactly up to snuff lately, but he knew that the magical subspecies of death caps that resembled puffballs were not used in any potion. Mostly because of their toxicity and love of exploding into puffs of smoke. While seldom deadly to healthy individuals, if you were already suffering from even a mild cold, you could be at risk.

'How is the patient?' Hermione asked. All of the nurses just stared at her. She huffed in annoyance and conjured a face-mask. 'Get this whole wing cleared of non-essential people, and alert the other floors. Start searching and screening all mail, food, and personnel.'

'Personnel?' one of the nurses frowned. 'You think it's one of us?'

'I will not risk the lives of our patients to spare your feelings, now move!' The nurses all sprang into action, and the visitors were quickly ushered away. Harry almost started searching the whole place then and there, but he got himself under control and ran to Draco's room.

He burst inside, finding Draco and Scorpius just as they usually were, with Scorpius reading and Draco still nursing his tea. Harry waved his wand around and tried to summon any hidden death caps with a silent spell, but none came. Since that was no guarantee, he started searching manually. He checked the bathroom, behind the curtains, and under the bed.

'What are you looking for?' Draco asked.

'Bursting death caps,' Harry said. He glanced at Scorpius, who didn't look like he knew what they were. 'Mushrooms,' Harry added. 'Someone sent them to a patient down the corridor.' Scorpius frowned and looked between them, but Draco merely went still, knowing the implications fully. 'Have you gotten any mail today?' Draco shook his head. 'Nothing out of the ordinary came into the room?'

'No, I haven't even eaten lunch.'

'Good. We need to evacuate non-essential people just in case.' He looked at Scorpius, who immediately protested.

'I'm not leaving.'

'You are young enough that a big enough dose might kill you,' Draco said. Harry had to respect how Draco seldom lied to Scorpius. 'I have to be here, but I'm sure the hospital will be sealing the affected room. I'll be fine.'

'But if the mushrooms get in here...' Scorpius said.

'They won't,' Harry assured him. 'We'll keep him safe, don't worry. I'll come by after school tomorrow-'

'Tomorrow's Saturday.'

'Right, I'll come by in the afternoon and update you, even if the hospital isn't letting anyone back in yet.'

'You promise?'

'Of course.'

Hermione came into the room just then. She looked extremely agitated and her hair was its old bushy self.

'We need to get Scorpius out, I'm afraid,' she said. 'But the initial contamination has been dealt with.'

'I'll take him,' Harry said, knowing Hermione would have her hands full. Scorpius hugged Draco tightly, receiving a kiss on the head in goodbye, and Harry escorted the young boy out. He glanced behind them just as they left to see Draco giving him such a grateful look Harry almost wanted to go back and hug him too, and tell him he would make everything fine again.

Hermione stayed with Draco, and by the look on his face Harry had explained what had happened, and he knew what it all meant.

'Aurors will no doubt be coming soon,' she said. 'They might want to interrogate you, and everyone else on this floor.'

'You have no idea who brought them in?'

'They were in Undersecretary Juhlin's room,' she said.

'Is he-?'

'He's dead.'

'What? Already?'

'He bit into a muffin, or pastry of some sort,' she shook her head, trying to remember, but she had been so busy trying to get him breathing again. His face had swelled up, red all over except his mouth, which had had a green layer of the mushroom dust on it, as if he had bitten into a green-powered pastry. Hermione had tried clearing his throat, but his other organs were deteriorating quickly as well. No nurses had been there to help her, despite her shouts, and then he had looked at her, managing to focus for just a few seconds, eyes filled with terror, and died.

'He got a burst of spores right in his mouth,' Hermione continued, 'I don't think I've heard of someone getting such a direct dose before. As frail as he was, it was barely five minutes before he let go.'

She had made sure to clean herself thoroughly before exiting the room, making sure no spores were airborne. The affliction wasn't contagious - only direct contamination could cause the sickness - but a threat had been made with that pastry. The family had thought it was part of the hospital meal. None of the patients were safe. The mushrooms weren't likely to kill healthy people, but with the patients so weak, who knew how little they needed?

'Someone just assassinated the Undersecretary,' Draco said.

'I think Shacklebolt relieved him of duty, so technically someone just murdered Mr. Juhlin.'

'Christ,' Draco said, turning his face away towards the window. Hermione shared the sentiment. 'They really want us out of the way, don't they? Can't say I blame them.'

'Do not say that,' Hermione said, stepping closer so he would look at her. 'Gilfoyle Juhlin wasn't a Death Eater,' she said. 'He was a young man just like any other.'

'He hid his Mark from the authorities.'

'Wouldn't you have, if you could?' Draco looked away again, because it was true. 'I don't believe he ever killed or cursed anyone. For all we know he worked as the Dark Lord's accountant!' She took a breath to compose herself. Draco stared at her with a look of realisation.

'You really are trying to save us all, aren't you?'

Hermione felt tears pricking at her eyes, so she smiled as kindly as she could, putting on her "stay strong" healer face. 'Of course we are,' she said. 'I have to get back. It's a madhouse out there.' She patted Draco's foot as a gesture of goodbye, and left.

XXX

The Next Day

Harry was at Azkaban prison right after breakfast. The guards let him in with barely a question, though the Warden balked slightly at who he was there to see. Harry wasn't too keen on it either. Even Ron, who had interviewed most of the Death Eater prisoners, had only looked in on him to check he wasn't affected. Harry hated going to Azkaban, chiefly because he had to turn in his wand.

Lucius Malfoy was a lucky man, considering. After the war, the Dementors had been ousted from Azkaban. Even with them gone, it wasn't comfortable, and people constantly complained of the poor conditions. The progress to an acceptable standard was slow, but moving forward, thanks mostly to people like Hermione. At least it wasn't soul-destroying. Malfoy, of course, was comfortable. He had secured a private cell. Harry didn't know how, but the bastard still had friends - or favours - to cash in on.

The cell was small, but held a bed and desk, with several parchments and books, and a private toilet. Harry kept his anger under control. Lucius was seated at the desk, reading. He looked up when Harry showed up outside the bars. He wore prisoner robes, but his hair was combed. He had quite a bit of stubble. He was much thinner than before the war, but hardly malnourished. There was the same arrogant look of superiority, which had probably become permanently fixed due to overuse.

'Potter,' he said. 'To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'I'm sure you can guess,' Harry said. 'You know about the Mark, I assume.'

'I've heard it has awakened.'

'Have you heard that your son has become afflicted?' Harry could not see a single reaction in Lucius, except that he put the book down.

'Is he dead?'

'No, but he will be soon if we don't figure out what's causing it.'

'Come back when he is, then maybe I can help.'

'What?' Harry almost gaped at the man, who had pointedly gone back to reading. He knew Lucius was resentful of the Ministry for giving Draco control over the Malfoy estate, and he had personally disowned him after the new sentencing. Harry didn't know the details, but he had heard Lucius considered his son no better than a squib as long as he abided by the ruling.

'You heard me.'

Harry stepped up to the bars.

'I need your memory of your marking,' he said. 'If you help me save your son, I will do everything in my power to restore his magic, and help you with any comforts you might need.'

Lucius narrowed his eyes at him, putting down the book and turning fully towards him. 'You seem to care an awful lot for one patient. Last I heard, you had a ward full of them.'

'Yes or no, Malfoy,' Harry barked. 'I'm sure others here will be more than happy to provide what I need.'

'But you want my version of events,' Lucius said, smirking. 'You know most of the other bastards in here are weak and damaged. Their memories are faulty, and the extraction will be difficult. I am, however, perfectly healthy. I have all the comforts I need.'

'I can't give you your freedom.'

'Not right away, no, but when the time comes for my parole...' It was five more years until he was eligible. No one thought any of the top ranking Death Eaters would ever get paroled. Was it worth it if there was a chance Lucius might get out on his word? Draco would still control the estate, so how much harm could he do? If he tried anything, Harry would throw him right back here.

'I give you my wizard's oath that I will vouch for you,' Harry said. Lucius narrowed his eyes, considering.

'And my son's sentence?'

'That I'll do for him.'

'Interesting. Very well, I will give you the memory, much good will it do you.' Harry arranged the procedure with the Warden. He had to get the right paperwork for the extraction. The Ministry always loved its paperwork. It was past lunch before he finally got in a room with Malfoy and his wand, extracting the memory without incident. Malfoy made him give his vow again before he went, which left Harry with a sour taste in his mouth.

When Harry returned to St. Mungo's with the memory, Hermione was not in her office. He didn't want to wander around looking for her, so he decided to check in on Draco.

He knocked and opened it a crack. What he saw made him open the door wide. Hermione was very carefully extracting a memory from Draco's temple. He was halfway propped up in bed, head against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut and clear tears on his face. He held his forearm to his chest tightly.

Hermione did not look up, and kept her focus perfectly. She gently tugged the memory free of Draco's temple and guided it into a small vial. Once she had stopped and pocketed it, she put her hand on Draco's shoulder.

'Are you all right? Do you need a pain potion?' Draco shook his head, eyes closed. 'Maybe some doxy ginseng?' This time he nodded. He opened his eyes, wiping the tears, then noticed Harry.

'I'm so sorry,' Harry said. 'I was just checking in and-'

'It's fine,' Draco managed. 'Not like you weren't going to see the memory later anyway.'

'Still...'

Hermione rose and said she was going to get the ginseng. Harry excused himself to speak with her, telling her of his visit to Azkaban. Hermione would take both memories to Hogwarts instead of using the pensive at Harry's office. Harry wanted as little of the investigation as possible to happen in front of prying eyes.

'You look a bit wrung out,' she commented as she prepared a cup of tea with the ginseng in it. 'Maybe you want one?'

'I'm fine. It's just Lucius...' He couldn't tell her, he realised, so he just shook his head to make it seem like the man had been impossible. Hermione frowned sympathetically. 'Let me take that to Draco. How is the situation with the death caps? I haven't even asked at the office.'

'They sent one Auror down here to take statements,' Hermione said.

'What? Who?'

'Fumerton. He was professional enough, but not exactly confident he would solve the case.'

'Bugger them all,' Harry said. 'Are you letting visitors in?'

'Fumerton said Shacklebolt regards the assassination as just that, so he doesn't think anyone else is in danger.'

'I'd say that was naïve thinking, but I know Shacklebolt,' Harry said. That day's front page had had a few choice headlines. "Death Eater and former Undersecretary Juhlin murdered. St. Mungo's Ward still full of Death Eaters. Some might last weeks more, sources say. Minister Shacklebolt still silent. Rumours of a vote of no confidence?"

'I've asked the Auror Office to provide personnel to check visitors at the lifts, but I haven't gotten a response. Until then...'

'Until then they are still dying, only now they are all dying alone.' Harry took the tea and headed back to Draco's room. He felt as if he was about to boil over, and surreptitiously took a sip of the tea before he entered the room.

Draco accepted the tea with thanks. He drank some, and Harry thought he perked up slightly. He asked about visitors, and Harry told him the news. He, again, could not bring himself to speak of Lucius.

There was a knock on the door and a nurse poked her head in. 'Uh, Mr. Malfoy?' She was a timid thing, but Hermione said she was one of the best and least prejudiced, so Harry didn't interpret her hesitation as anything but skyness.

'Yes?'

'I think there's someone on the tellyphone thing for you,' she said. 'It kept ringing, so I had to go in and pick it up and there was someone speaking, asking for you. I'm not sure how...'

'That's fine, thank you very much.' The nurse nodded, gave a small smile, glancing at Harry, then left. 'Help me to the waiting room,' Draco said. Harry briefly considered questioning him or getting Hermione to sanction the excursion, but Draco was already trying to scoot off the bed.

Harry offered Draco his arm, which he gripped tightly. They walked slowly, but even so Draco was out of breath by the time they got to the waiting room. The phone had been put back on. The nurse probably hadn't realised she had hung up on the person, but luckily it rang again just as Draco sat down by it. He picked it up immediately.

'Hello?' Draco seem to hold his breath as the other person spoke. 'Yes, I'm here. I'm still in hospital.' Harry awkwardly wondered if he should leave or wait close by, in case something happened. He decided to go fetch Draco's tea, in case it was a long call.

When he came back, Draco looked like he needed it.

'You have to stall, Richard. The vote can't-' Draco sighed, rubbing his forehead. Harry placed the tea on the table by the phone, and Draco glanced up, giving a small smile of thanks, which Harry returned. It was strange seeing Draco in such a situation. Then again, every situation Draco had been in since their "reunion" had been strange to him. Harry thought about Lucius' powers of business dealing, and wondered if Draco was as fierce. Hopefully he used his powers for good. Somehow, Harry didn't doubt it.

'Please, you have to-' Draco was interrupted again. He nodded jerkily. 'Yes, yes. But I have the weekend, right? … Just watch me.' He hung up forcefully.

'I take it that did not go well?'

'It's a disaster,' Draco said, taking a big gulp of tea. He stared into its depths. 'Seems silly, being so worked up over an archeological site when I'm dying.'

'You're not.'

Draco looked up with a sad smile. 'No, dying is just a side-effect. Sorry, I know you hate to think of the worst outcome. I'm too much of a realist, I'm afraid.'

'Let's get you back to bed.'

'Would you do something for me? I know you have better things to do, but please, if you have a spare moment?'

'Anything.'

Draco's eyebrows rose at the declaration, and Harry felt a slight blush creep into his cheeks.

'If you happen to walk past the Department of Magical Spaces, Buildings and Areas, or alternatively someone from the Committee of Magical Artefacts, or even better someone from the Cultural Board in the Department of International Magical Cooperation-' Draco stopped to take a breath. 'I would be very grateful if you would ask one of them whatever happened to my reports, requests and messages. I usually don't care whether or not I get a response, as I've always managed things on my own, but this time.' He sighed.

'Of course, I will. Um- but what exactly should I ask them about?'

'Ask them why they are letting a completely unique and significant magical site get bulldozed by muggles who are completely unaware of it. Ask them why they don't care that a magical site, where our ancestors might have performer the first magical rituals on this isle, is being replaced by a block of flats.'

Harry had never seen Draco so passionate about something so completely good that he had to smile. Draco's face had a little of its colour back, and even with the tea he wasn't exactly calm. He caught Harry staring, and smiling.

'What?'

'Sorry, yes, I will, absolutely. It's insane that they haven't done anything. I'll go ask them.' He rose. 'First I have to get you back to bed, visit Scorpius, then check back in with Ron. But after that, I promise.'

Draco looked a bit wide-eyed, but he took Harry's arm again, leaning a bit more against him as they made their way back. As they reached Draco's room, he started shaking and wobbling precariously. Harry put his arm around him, but that wasn't enough. Draco groaned in pain, and Harry scooped him up into his arms - it was far too light a burden. He hurried to the bed, tucking him in as gently as he could.

'Thank you,' Draco whispered. Harry put his hand on Draco's forehead. It was clammy and cold. He quickly got a nurse to get more pain potion, and waited by Draco's bed until he had fallen asleep.