Chapter Forty-two: Dumbledore Visits Malfoy

When Abraxas popped back into his bedroom intent on gathering a few supplies the last thing he expected to find was Dumbledore sitting in the very same chair as Hermione had so recently occupied. Startled, he schooled his features and plastered on a smile of greeting instead.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir," he said. "To what do I owe the honor of your visit?"

"Malfoy," said the old man with his usual smile, trying to appear benign and affable. Malfoy felt bile in his throat as he thought of what he'd done to people he cared for, and his own smile threatened to turn into a sneer of disdain. Dumbledore continued, "I did not expect you to be gone at this hour. I was hoping you might be able to help me in a most pressing matter. "

"Of course, Professor," he said. "You know that I am always glad to help."

"Well then, I wondered if you might have seen Tom Riddle and Hermione Granger," he said. "The pair of them have been helping me with a bit of research, but I have not seen either of them in a week. It is most peculiar."

"Sorry, Professor," Abraxas said as he stepped over to his dresser and opened a drawer. "I haven't seen either of them since they asked me to keep an eye on their flat. I haven't even been in there for well over a week."

Making sure Dumbledore did not see what he took out, Abraxas grabbed a small crystal which he wordlessly made into a recording device and set back into the drawer again. Then he grabbed a pair of socks and shut the drawer part way, pretending it was a mere oversight.

"Are you going out again, Malfoy?" the old man inquired.

"A couple of the team from school want to get together for a bit of Quidditch," he explained. "We play about once or twice a month as a rule."

"Ah, I won't keep you then," said Dumbledore, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. "But if you see either of my helpers, you will let me know, won't you?"

"Of course, sir," Abraxas said at his most agreeable ever. He had no intention of leading this fool straight to his quarry, but he'd already worked it out that the man had somehow traced Hermione to that chair. He had to know she'd been here.

That was why he'd begun to record their conversation. If he did not return to the others one of the knights should come here to look for him. All of them knew where the device was. They would know the old man had been here. They would know it was not safe for him to join them.

But there was always the possibility that they wouldn't find it, he knew. And if Dumbledore was half as dangerous as Hermione suggested he was, there was always the possibility that if he left this room and the old man followed him, that he, too, might find himself a captive. Would it perhaps make more sense to remain here until someone looked for him?

But no, he could not take the chance that Granger would come here, either. Tom would kill him if he let Hermione be harmed, wouldn't he? Assuming that he didn't become a monster instead of getting away. The whole thing was mind-blowing, really.

Idly, Abraxas wondered if perhaps he might go back into Hogwarts himself, find the library's secret room, and make a wish of his own. Trouble was, he was heir to a fortune, had his pick of whatever pureblooded girl he wanted, and he was already devastatingly handsome. He didn't think it would be worth the effort to go unless he had something to wish for.

Shaking his head, he remembered that he still had the current situation to deal with. Even though he'd just given Dumbledore his word that he'd contact him should the Granger girl or Tom Riddle show up, so far Dumbledore had made no move to leave. Instead, he stood there eyeing him shrewdly, as if he was trying to make up his mind about something.

"No," he finally said. "No, Malfoy, I don't think so, I can't let you leave here knowing you intend to warn the girl I've been snooping. I'm afraid I'll have to take you with me."

Abraxas scoffed at this and straightened his shoulders. "I don't think so, old man," he said. "You can't very well take me out of here with all the protective wards in place."

"Oh, but I think you will come along willingly enough," Dumbledore smirked.

"How so?" Abraxas wanted to know.

"Because if you don't, I'll harm someone you care about very much," he smirked. "No, no, don't start thinking about your family, or your girl, or any of them. I've someone much more important to you in mind. If you don't come along, I'll have to harm Tom. I won't kill him, of course. He's far too valuable for that. But I am not above a bit of torture."

"You wouldn't torture Tom," Abraxas scoffed. "You wouldn't want to ruin him. Not when you've just put your good friend Gellert in there."

"She told you about the Horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked, shaking his head in disbelief. "I didn't think she would be that foolish. Now come with me, I grow tired of asking."

"You'll have to kill me first," Abraxas insisted.

Albus' eyes dilated as a thought struck him. "It's not you I need to kill," he announced with a smirk.

"What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously. Then he heard his mother's voice. She was singing a song, and it was obvious she was headed for his door. "You wouldn't kill my Mum."

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked. "You've already been born, the timeline won't be affected by it. You had your chance, didn't you? Now you and I are going to be spending a lot of time together, aren't we?"

"If you put your filthy Horcrux inside of me, I'll kill myself," Abraxas told him. But before he could say anything more, his mother was walking into the room. Dumbledore's wand was already raised, and Abraxas shouted and ran toward her as the old man's voice rang out.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Dumbledore, and both Abraxas and his mother fell to the floor. Then the boy rolled off of the dead body beneath him, his eyes filled with bitter tears.

"You bastard! You evil git! I'll kill you!"

"Now then, let's see about that Horcrux," Dumbledore said with the most benevolent smile he could muster. Abraxas scrambled to get away from him, but in the end, it was much too late.