Chapter 11: An eye for an eye

For disclaimer and author notes please see chapter 1.

1986-01-17 10:30 UTC, Flint "manor"

Flint stared at his ring in shock. His son was dead. Someone, somewhere, had killed his son. He was unable to stand, and fell down, almost fainting. The dungeon being what it was, he fell into the ritual circle.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had removed the petrifaction on the girl, though not the silencing spell. When Flint fell in, the girl dropped herself into his lap and started sobbing heavily, crying buckets of tears. She still could not speak, but she could move about. She wrote one word in the dust on the floor: "DAD".

Flint was in no shape to notice any of this, even if a girl he had been drooling over was now all over him, the loss of his son had really hit him. Until now, there was some hope. But now, it was all gone.

It was Nott who first realised what had happened, or at least suspected. On the premise that it wouldn't do any harm anyway, he hit the girl with a strong "finite" spell.

And suddenly, like magic (really!) Marcus Flint was there. A squib, to be sure, but in far better shape than many who had passed through those same dungeons.

Flint turned a hard eye toward Malfoy. "What did you do to my boy, Malfoy?", he asked coldly. This was a surprise to the others; they had not known Flint was capable of cold anger, having only ever seen his hot temper!

Malfoy was still trying to get his speech back. Finally, he said, "that girl has been in my dungeons for eight months, Flint, and you bloody well know it, God knows you've drooled over her enough times! Your son went missing only on New Years Day. I have no idea how this could have happened; I'm willing to swear to it!"

Oaths seemed to be a dime a dozen here, but the "eight months" versus "seventeen days" argument simply could not be denied. Flint seemed unable to say any more, his son was still sniffling (he knew the fate of squibs in this world, but it was better than what Malfoy would have done to him otherwise), and Macnair had a vacant stare going.

Malfoy and Nott beat a hasty retreat, leaving father, son, and godfather to acquaint themselves with the new reality. Although, there was no telling what a pureblood family would do to a squib; it was not considered polite to even ask.

1986-01-18 09:30 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage

Malfoy had decided to spend as much time as possible in the Wizengamot chambers, or in the Minister's office, or supervising the new Malfoy Manor's construction. He did not want to stay here except for sleep, shower, and breakfast.

Narcissa had gone off somewhere, probably some ladies bridge party or something. She didn't seem to have been much affected by the loss of her home.

That left Draco all by himself. He was playing with a toy broom, wondering if, for his sixth birthday, he would get a real one, when the front door opened, and in walked Macnair.

"Hello, Draco! How are you? Do you want to go to Diagon Alley and see if we can find a bigger broomstick for you?"

1986-01-18 11:00 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage

Hobby returned from one of his trips (to either Grimmauld, or to Nick and Penny's place) at about 11, and noticed no one was at home. This home, being only a temporary residence, did not have all the protections that Malfoy Manor had, which did not bode well for at least Draco's well-being.

Why am I worrying about him?, he thought. He'd heard Malfoy tell his wife last night that the Flint boy had been found, and he was startled. How had it happened? Who had discovered him? What happened afterward? So he listened carefully, till he pieced together what happened. (It was obvious, really, that anything that worked off the target's magic, such as the goblin-made life-stone, would not be able to distinguish between "dead" and "squib".)

Of all the "children", Marcus and Draco were the two he would not have minded seeing killed, but he would not be completely guilt-free if that happened. Turning them into squibs, now that the idea had been given to him quite by chance, was the perfect solution. It was a fate worse than death by their standards, yet induced no guilt at all in him (no muggle-born or muggle-raised would think it a big deal). This was great; he may have to learn this ritual - even with the proviso that it had to be voluntary, it might still come in useful.

But now Draco was missing. It may be too early to worry about it, especially because he didn't know who else would be interested, but this bore watching.

1986-01-18 11:45 UTC, Lestrange estate, crofter's cottage

Malfoy floo-ed in and started shouting immediately, "Elves!". Both Dobby and Nolly popped in, did the usual bowing and scraping dance, and waited.

"Did anyone come in while I was gone?"

Nolly did not wait for Dobby nor look at him. He knew Dobby had gone off somewhere (bad elf!) but did not want to get him in trouble. So he quickly answered, "Mister Macnair Sir bes come Master. He bes invite Master Draco to shopping for broomsticks master".

Malfoy did not say anything. He went to the floo, called out some address, and spoke to Narcissa. Presently, she came back home through the floo, and they sat down in the dining room. Telling the elves to get them some tea, Malfoy started explaining to Narcissa.

"I received an unsigned message today while I was in the ministry. It basically said: we have your boy. Do not inform the aurors; if you do, we will obliviate him back to 2 years of age and leave him in Siberia. Await further instructions."

"I do not know who sent it; of course it was unsigned."

Narcissa sighed. "Who did you make an enemy of lately?"

Malfoy looked outraged, though his wife did not seem impressed. "No one. Flint thought I had something to do with the girl replacing herself on New Years day with Flint's boy, but that is preposterous - if it was really her accidental magic that did it, I cannot be blamed, and if I did it, where is the girl? Why would I make the switch?"

"So what do we do? 'Await further instructions'?"

"I don't see what else we can do. I also have a life-stone on Draco, and at the moment he is alive; that is all we know for now. Once we have him back, then we can think about revenge as well as preventing something like this happening again. In any case, this would never have happened if our manor hadn't burnt down, it had al-", he paused, looking at her expression.

"The so-called 'Phantom' got in, and could have killed any of us who were at home", she reminded him.

"Yes, but this does not look like the Phantom's handiwork".

Hobby heard all this and sat quiet. He would have to wait till Malfoy was out before he did anything.

The question was, did he want to? Someone was getting rid of the future junior death-eater, or at least threatening to. Hobby sat for a while, thinking about all the things Malfoy had done to him and his friends in school. If you discounted sixth year, it didn't actually amount to much, but the attitude, the promise of what was coming and what he would become - fulfilled in sixth year, when he almost ended up killing two students, and followed it up by putting the whole school in danger - was what formed one end of Hobby's dilemma.

On the other end, the simple fact that at this moment, the individual who was in danger was a barely 6 year old child.

Well... there's always the Marcus Flint option, no guilt then. It would be nice to find something that does the same magic stripping but does not require consent, he thought.

Meanwhile, he'd simply wait.

He did have a somewhat ironic - deliciously ironic, actually - punishment in mind for Macnair, should he decide to spare Draco this time. And it would, as with the Flint boy, reflect suspicion back on Malfoy!

1986-01-18 14:00 UTC, Macnair estate

For the first hour or so since Mr Macnair had brought him here, promising to take him to Diagon Alley for a broomstick, Draco sat quietly playing with a toy he had brought with him.

After that, things weren't so good. He was bored, and so he started to badger Mr Macnair, asking why they were here and not in Diagon. Macnair tried to tell him the shops hadn't opened yet, or something, but eventually he lost his temper. He had no clue how to handle kids, and he basically ended up shutting him in a small ante-room next to the living room.

Even when he was older, Draco was not one to handle adversity well, relying more on his father than on himself to bail him out and make things better. Plus, he was still young enough that his mother held an equal, if not greater, place in his mind as a protector. And neither of them were here.

He bawled for a bit, then, exhausted, fell asleep on one of the chairs in the room.

When he woke up, his mind was somewhat scrambled, and - more out of habit than anything else - he called out "Dobby, I am hungry".

Hobby popped in, bowed (not very low), and said "what would Master Draco like to have?" Draco told Hobby what he wanted, Hobby popped away and brought his food back, and left.

At no time did Draco think to ask if Dobby could pop him back. Hobby, for his part, knowing that he was not in bad shape (after all, if food was his top concern...), decided not to pop him back. He definitely did not want that blind spot fixed anytime this century, and properly rescuing Draco would certainly do it.

(Seriously, he reflected, if anyone had told me about this in my past life I would have refused to believe it, for the sheer stupidity boggles the mind. How can they know that elves can transport heavy furniture and domestic animals, but think that they themselves cannot be transported?)

So, no, rescuing Draco was out. But he could tell Malfoy, couldn't he?

"Master, Dobby is bes called by Master Draco, asking for food. Dobby bes giving him food and something to drink".

"WHAT? You have seen him? Where is he? Is he alright?", Narcissa fired off questions before Malfoy could react.

"Master Draco be in Master Macnair's manor, mistress. He bes in a locked room next to the living room."

1986-01-18 14:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office

"I tell you, Cornelius, I will not stand for this. I want my son rescued, and Macnair arrested, within the next ten minutes, or as much time as it takes to rustle up a couple of aurors".

Bones had also been called in. Inside, she was simultaneously happy and confused - why had one of these bastards turned against one of his own, and in such a dastardly manner as to take a child?

(She had heard rumours from the grapevine that Flint's boy, when he was finally found, had lost his magic, but no details. However, she did not know that Marcus was Macnair's godson, otherwise she would have suspected Malfoy of at least knowing something of, if not being responsible for, Flint's boy's kidnapping.)

"We'll need a ward breaker team first", she objected. "We'll be lucky to get the team together in ten minutes!"

"I have access to his manor, unless he has revoked it. In theory I could go and get my son myself; I just don't know how much of a fight he will put up, or if he will make the situation worse for Draco. So really, all I'm asking for is an auror escort for safety".

1986-01-18 14:30 UTC, Macnair estate

The moment Malfoy and his wife had left for the Ministry, Hobby had popped to the Macnair estate. Macnair was in the kitchen, having a quick meal, chased down by a drink. His elf, Tidy (named for her extreme love of cleanliness) was serving him something when Hobby popped in and she saw him.

"Master Macnair sir, Dobby bes have a message from his master. His master needs Master Macnair sir's help", saying which, Hobby took a letter out of his pocket. Macnair took the letter, and promptly disappeared.

Hobby obliviated Tidy of the entire sequence, made her think her master had apparated away for reasons unknown, and left.

1986-01-18 14:45 UTC, Macnair estate

When Malfoy and the aurors appeared in front of Macnair estate, Macnair was nowhere to be found. They advanced easily through the wards, because Malfoy took them through, and - in somewhat of an anti-climax - opened the door to Draco's "prison" with no sight of man or elf anywhere.

Narcissa rushed in and grabbed her son up in a huge hug. Once she was assured he was alright, and - thanks to Dobby - not even hungry or thirsty, she looked at her husband. "Have they found the bastard?" She didn't seem to care that her very young and impressionable son was right there and she was swearing.

"Not yet. And I'm glad he wasn't here. I would not want to get into a fight with my wife and child right there". (Malfoy had tried to get her to stay back, anticipating a fight. She'd refused.)

"On the contrary, I wish he were here, and had put up a fight; I'd have shown him how a mother deals with people who kidnap their child.", she growled.

"For you, Lucius, Draco is an heir, and his kidnapping is an affront to the power of you and your family name. Don't deny it; it is very clear that his primary role is as the bearer of the Malfoy name in future. I'm not saying you don't love him, but that is secondary. For me, the priorities are reversed. Anyone doing this to my child, will suffer. And they will suffer for the rest of their short, miserable, lives".

For good or bad, the aurors had finished searching the grounds for Macnair and had walked in, just in time to hear this dramatic statement.

1986-01-19 09:30 UTC, St. Kilda Hippogriff preserve, Outer Hebrides

Hobby had been elated to find that the Malfoys owned a hippogriff preserve.

He was, of course, completely at a loss to understand how, then, Draco could have behaved that way with Buckbeak. Was he kept away from his family's various holdings and interests, not given even the barest of familiarity with them? Did he not get to even see them and learn the basics? Or was the whole thing an act, designed to harm Hagrid and perhaps Dumbledore? If so, it was a very dangerous game - you'd have to be really cool-headed to get away with precisely so much injury, no less and no more!

Anyway, here it was, tucked away in a part of the country where there were very few muggles (when it was established anyway).

In a corner of this preserve, behind an almost dolmen-like formation (heck it probably was a dolmen!, thought Hobby), was Macnair, stunned and petrified since yesterday afternoon, when he had been sent here by portkey. The wards had done the stunning and petrifaction, of course, not Hobby. Hobby had merely come by late evening to make sure he was reasonably comfortable, and put a blanket on him. Wouldn't do to have him die of cold or something, oh no it wouldn't, not at all!

Now he woke him up, Macnair immediately tried to apparate away, his sixth sense for danger apparently stronger than his temper. Hobby's wards stopped him.

Macnair finally noticed Dobby, turned toward him, and said, "What did you bastard master tell you when he gave you that portkey you tricked me with? Is he coming here? I may not be able to apparate but he won't win against me, not easily anyway. He'll remember, and rue this day for the rest of his life."

"Malfoy did not send me to you. I did that on my own."

"WHAT!? You, a house-elf? How can you act without someone ordering you?" For the moment, Macnair did not notice the speech.

"None of your business. I am here to exact retribution for kidnapping a small child. Now, don't get me wrong - this is not because he is my master's son or some such nonsense. In fact, if you had waited till he was in Hogwarts, and actually become a right bastard by himself, I would probably have applauded. But not until he grows up a bit more and fucks up in some way."

Macnair was listening with increasing confusion. No house-elf he ever knew would speak like that. Maybe this was a different one - maybe one of the half-bloods had one that looked like Malfoy's, and had trained it to do things like this. Maybe...

"Stop over-thinking, Macnair. Even normal thinking was never your strong point, and without that axe in your hand you're not even much of a fighter!" Hobby then used the shock of this statement to summon Macnair's wand to himself.

By now Macnair knew he was in deep shit, though the nature of that shit was not at all clear to him. He lunged at Hobby, since a physical attack was the only thing that he had left to him.

Hobby petrified him in mid-leap. He then transported him exactly like that to one of the more aggressive hippogriffs, propelled him horizontally toward the hippogriff, and freed him from the petrifaction in mid-flight. He left the man's wand on the ground a few feet away, and then popped off.

1986-01-19 11:30 UTC, location unknown

"Hobby", said Penny seriously. "Everything seems to be going your way so far. Whatever you've planned, aren't you worried that something really big will come undone? I am worried that you are getting over-confident!"

"Well, you said it yourself the day we met, Penny. You said I will be able to get away with a lot of things that no wizard will dream a house-elf could do, or at best will think the Malfoys ordered me to!"

"Well, yes, but I meant... well look what happened with Bellatrix".

"Oh no Penny, I am not saying no one can beat me! Even in fair combat I may not always win - Bella taught me how close I could come to losing! And a covert attack would certainly kill me. I'm not sure what hell I will face when I go back 'up there' of course!

What I am saying is that the mindset changes required for someone to deem me a threat and do something - anything - about it, are virtually impossible in this world. Would you believe Macnair, even with the evidence staring him in the face, refused to believe it until he was almost dead - and even then I am not quite certain he did.

Penny smiled fondly at him, her worry for this strange elf-man somewhat abated.

1986-01-19 18:30 UTC, Ministry of Magic, Minister's office

"I am not suggesting anything Minister. I am merely stating facts. Facts which will be printed in the Prophet's evening edition, probably already out by now.

Fact #1: Draco Malfoy, age 5, was kidnapped by Macnair. Reasons unknown, I have only speculation there.

Fact #2: Narcissa made some serious threats toward Macnair. Exact quote: Anyone doing this to my child, will suffer. And they will suffer for the rest of their short, miserable, lives.

Fact #3, the Malfoys have a hippogriff preserve in the Outer Hebrides.

Fact #4, Macnair was found there, mauled to death by one of the more aggressive hippogriffs this evening."

"How were the aurors tipped off?"

"One of the two aurors who heard Narcissa Malfoy threaten Macnair was given a somewhat gloating note, no signature on it, by a house-elf. He thinks it was one of the Malfoy elves but can't swear to it, he says all elves look the same to him. The Malfoys have not been approached - they'd simply laugh and deny it anyway so there's no point."

"All said and done, do you have enough to arrest her and guarantee a conviction, Amelia?"

"Sadly, no. And to be honest, I'm not interested in her. Far be it from me to agree with a death-eater's wife, but if someone tries something with Susan, I'll gut him in public and make him eat his entrails!"

"Thank you for the imagery, Amelia! Now, fact #5: the actual death appears to have occurred sometime between 9 and 11am. Fact #6: Narcissa was with my wife playing bridge at that time."

"I've already told you once that tying yourself to Malfoy will sink you, now you have your wife tying herself to his wife. Do you have a mutual suicide pact or something?"

Leaving Fudge speechless, she swept out the room. Women know how to get the last word, and if, sometimes, the only way to do that is to quickly leave the room, then so be it!