Draco Malfoys memories, as retrieved August 8, 2020)
When Draco left the hospital wing on the insistence of Severus, who feared that word of his illness might reach the Dark Lord, he still felt a bit shaky on his legs. He had been fortunate that the Dark Lord had not summoned him, but his father had written a letter and had told him to hurry with his project. The Dark Lord was apparently getting impatient. Draco was sure, that the Dark Lord was bored and wanted to have some fun, playing with the Malfoys.
Before he would go back to the Manor, he would need to prepare a fool-proof plan though. How could he get the Dark Lord to swallow the Phoenix Potion that would render him helpless and without magic? If he would apply the potion to himself and his parents before he met the Dark Lord, he could then swallow some and pretend that swallowing the potion had the shielding effect, in the hope that the Dark Lord would fall for it.
Draco did not like this plan particularly. It had too many holes. First, he would have to occlude his plan and given his ineptness at occlumency he might not be able to hide it. Unless Severus lend him some of his strength again, something that would have to occur without the Dark Lord realising it, and before he doused himself with the potion. Secondly, he either had to let his parents in on the plan or he somehow had to trick them. And thirdly, the Dark Lord might be confident enough in his own abilities, that he just would not swallow the potion. And that left out the fact that Draco did not know for sure, if the Phoenix Potion did shield from the killing curse. He pictured himself lying dead on the ground because his potion had failed spectacularly, his mother in grief and the Dark Lord cackling.
And Draco desperately wanted to come up with a plan that would not involve him swallowing the damn potion. He shuddered, when he thought about standing helpless without magic before the Dark Lord's red eyes.
Draco's feet had led him to the Room of Requirement. Before he planned further ahead, he would fetch his potion vials. He went back and forth three times to open the Room of Hidden things.
Nothing happened.
Cold dread gripped Draco and he tried again.
Nothing happened.
Thoughts fled him, his knees gave way and he sat on the ground trying to calm his breathing.
He tapped his ring to call Prudy and the little elf appeared. Draco pointed at the place in the wall, where the Room of Hidden Things should open.
Prudy looked at him with big round eyes, half desperate and half clueless. Apparently, Prudy did not know either, why the room would not open.
Draco heard footsteps and quickly cast a disillusionment charm and hid behind one of the tapestries. It was Longbottom. He ran back and forth three times and the room opened for him. Draco managed to look inside if only for a second. He saw many people, sleeping bags, cooking equipment, it was a whole inside camping site.
His knees buckled. With so many people in the room there was no chance to open another version of the room. There must be at least 30 who wished for a room to camp, 30 against one Draco Malfoy who desperately needed a potion.
Draco did not know how long he sat in front of the room, that held his hope and was yet unattainable. He could not possibly tell 30 Gryffindors to leave. He could not walk in there – even supposing he would manage to get the room to open – and tell them. "You might know me as a Death eater, but I don't believe that shit any longer and I just need you all to leave so I can fetch the potion that might defeat the Dark Lord." He could almost picture Longbottom or the Weaselette laughing at him.
Prudy sat beside him, and occasionally patted his elbow. Draco would never have admitted it, but her presence was a comfort.
Hours passed before he finally pulled himself together and stood up. His memory of the night, he had arrived at the Hospital Wing was a blur, but maybe, just maybe he had told Severus about his notes and the potion and he had fetched them. He didn't even remember if had stored away that memory.
He waited until dinner time. But the headmaster was nowhere to be seen. Draco skipped the meal and searched for him. He chanced upon him when he came down from the stairways to the headmaster's office.
They went to the potion classroom, which was empty, because everyone was in the hall for dinner. Severus confirmed Draco's suspicions that the Gryffindors and other members of the resistance had set up camp in the Room of Requirement.
"You can hardly blame them for looking for a refuge," Severus said. "And I agree, the room will not open for you as it stands now."
"I got your notes though," his godfather added.
"But I will have to start all over again." Draco moaned.
"Yes. I am sorry. By the time I realised what Longbottom was up to, it was too late."
"I'll need a fortnight at least."
"And we need a plan how we can make him swallow the potion."
"The potion has a very distinct flavour. We can't just mix it into his drink." Draco frowned. "Does he even drink?" He had never seen the Dark Lord drink or eat.
"Yes," Severus said. "He cannot defy all of life's rules."
Severus laid a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Start tomorrow. You are still not fully recovered. Ward a room tightly, brew your potion, don't hesitate to steal from Slughorn. I'll cover for you."
Draco nodded, desperately clinging to this thin thread of hope.
"Don't lose hope. Potter might still succeed, and I have been working on another plan. One way or other the Dark Lord will fall."
[evidence of Prudy the house elf during the Malfoy trial, January 2002]
[witness] Professor Snape called me, a few days after we found the Room closed. He gave me something that looked like a huge opal, shimmering white with rainbow hues. It was about the size of a small child's fist. It did not feel like a stone though, it was soft and squishy, and he had put it in a little box, where it sat on straw. He told me to use it in an emergency, that a scutum spell was encased in it, a scutum spell that would last considerably longer than usual. He didn't want it on his person, in case he was searched. I used this on Draco when death eaters wanted to kill him after the battle of Hogwarts.
Chapter 36: Failed tailing
Summary:
Harry receives an unexpected visitor in the auror department.
Notes:
So, the case gets some momentum...
Just in case this is triggering for some. A child's death is mentioned, but it is nobody we know.
Chapter Text
Harry met Ron and George for luncheon. He was glad for the diversion. Several of his cases had been at a stall for weeks. The initial excitement of having found out that Fawley might have a connection to the case of muggleborns had long since worn off, since they had no new leads. Percy was pulling blanks as well so far. And the search for muggleborns younger than 11 had not been fruitful yet. Underage accidental magic was just too erratic.
Pansy was off doing legwork, as was Teddy Lupin and several other aurors. It was one of these days, where work seemed to be a nuisance.
Ron had left his American Quidditch team amicably, the divorce from Lucretia was far worse. Ron talked of 'complications' but did not elaborate. Apparently, Lucretia was hell bent on making him pay. Until he'd join his new Britain based Quidditch team in April for the spring season, Ron had plenty of time at his hand, too much maybe. Most of the time he spent with George in the joke shop and apparently, they had fun. Sometimes he would just hang around in Grimmauld Place, sometimes he would visit Harry in the auror department.
So, it was not that unusual for Ron to accompany him to the department, even if a lunch that had stretched well into teatime was unusual. Harry's hackles raised when he entered though. There were only a few aurors in the office and they sported a decidedly unhappy look, as if they were out of their debts.
"Mr. Potter," young Wally said, at the exact moment that the person in a black suit who had been sitting leisurely on one of the desks, turned. It was Malfoy.
"Mr. Potter," Wally repeated. "Mr. Malfoy said he has come to confess his crimes, but only to you."
Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them again his eyes met Malfoy's. He had raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Harry could see the smirk that was not yet there but waited in the corners of his mouth.
Harry's hand had moved quickly almost without thinking to hold Ron in his place.
"I just have a guess, Wally. Mr. Malfoy wanted to see Pansy, but she is not here. Then he asked for me. But none of you thought he was worth my time. And it was only then, that he mentioned 'confessing crimes' and only to me."
Wally's mouth fell open. He was at a loss for words and flushed slightly.
"How well you know me, Potter," Malfoy said. The smirk that had been sitting in the corners of his mouth now openly on display.
"Wally," Harry addressed the young man. "… in the future, just alert me, o.k.? I can assure you that Mr. Malfoy is not keen on spending time with me. I suppose, this is actually important."
Wally nodded sheepishly.
"You look like you've been to a funeral, Ferret, all in black." Ron said.
"That's because I was, Weasel," Malfoy answered. "Believe it or not, people eat at funerals."
Harry rolled his eyes at his friend, keeping a firm hold on him. "Come into my office, Malfoy." He gestured to his office with his free hand.
When Malfoy had vanished in Harry's office, Ron disentangled himself from Harry and made to follow, but Harry shook his head at him. "Not you, Ron. You go on to Grimmauld."
Harry firmly closed the door into Ron's and Wally's faces and gestured at the seat in front of his desk. He rounded his desk to sit in his chair.
He combed through his hair and looked at the other man. "So, what is it?"
"Whatever it was, I didn't do it," Malfoy answered. His smirk had vanished, and his face showed suppressed anger.
"What do you mean?", Harry asked, trying to deflect. He had expected this visit and this question in a way, just not yet.
"I have nothing to do with it. Whatever the crime was that had you setting someone on tailing me…." Malfoy's jaws looked tense.
"Tailing?", Harry feigned ignorance.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Potter, I've been living in Muggle London for twenty years. Do you really think I cannot spot a wizard who tries too hard to fit? Or lose him on the tube?"
"Last I checked, I am not responsible for the comings and goings of wizards in Muggle London, as long as they don't break any wizarding law." Harry shrugged.
Malfoy was not to be deterred. "Did you even get a green light for having me tailed? And on what grounds?"
"I wonder why you would assume that I would ever have someone observed without a permit. I'd say, you were mistaken," Harry stated.
He looked Malfoy straight in the eye. "I can assure you, that I don't suspect you of being guilty of any crime for the last two decades or so," he added. "I mean you have a scathing and provoking tongue, but nobody lands in Azkaban for that." Technically, this was nothing but the truth.
But he was talking to a Slytherin after all, and one who had lied with the truth quite often. Malfoy did spot the loophole. He narrowed his eyes at Harry. "That doesn't mean that you don't have me tailed nor that there is nobody else who suspects me."
Harry bared his teeth for a fake smile. "You have so many friends, Malfoy. That should be impossible."
"O.k. Potter, I give you the benefit of the doubt." Malfoy's smile was as fake as his own. "Over the years, I have grown quite fond of the concept, after all. I assume that either you have no idea one of your people was tailing me and will reprimand him or that you have just started the observation. What is the time allowed again? Without proof of any crime? Without a hint? Twenty weeks?"
As if Malfoy was not versed in the law after having been married to Hermione for almost twenty years.
He stood. "If you won't have an explanation by July, I'm going to make an official complaint. I really have had enough."
Harry hoped that they would have sorted it out by then. He did not comment on Malfoy's accusations, having learned for some time, that sometimes silence was simply the better option. Malfoy made to turn to the door.
"Is that all, Malfoy?", he asked. "You just came here to threaten to sue the auror department? Why ask for Pansy then?"
Malfoy hesitated.
"You did ask for Pansy, didn't you?"
Malfoy studied Harry's face for some time, as if searching for an answer. The silence became overwhelming. Harry wondered if Malfoy had learned to use legilimency just by willpower. Whatever he saw in Harry's eyes, he seemed to conclude something, nodded and sat down again.
"Pansy has been asking all kinds of questions," he finally said. "I know you trust her, even though it took you long enough. I want it to be crystal clear that she has told me nothing. This is just conjecture on my part."
"I've trusted Pansy for years," Harry said.
Malfoy waved his hand, impatiently. "If we start discussing Pansy's fight to be accepted in this department, to live down one sentence she said when she feared for her life and her family's life, I won't be even-tempered enough to tell you, what I learned today. Even though it might be better if I tell you and not Pansy."
Harry pressed his lips together. He would not admit this to Malfoy of all people. Sometimes Pansy's first years in the department haunted him.
"As Weasel observed so aptly, I was at a funeral today." He brushed the hair from his face. There suddenly was a strain around his eyes. "The worst kind of funeral. It was a child, 10 years old."
Harry thought of his own daughter Lily, who was ten, and felt a surge of pity for the parents. One of Malfoy's was about the same age he knew. He suddenly felt an odd understanding for the other man. Malfoy must know about Pansy's infertility.
"I don't know how to put this," he sighed. "My partner Malcolm, he is a man, whom people trust. It is as if he has a sign on his face. 'Tell me everything that gives you grief and worries you'. He is a great listener."
"The child's grandma," Malfoy continued. "She told some stories about the girl. I might have missed it, if Pansy had not talked about muggleborns with my wife for weeks now. How to find them prior to their 11th birthday, and how late they come into wizarding society."
Harry nodded. This was one of Hermione's projects, but in difference to werewolves, goblins and elves, her remonstrations to the wizengamot had not been successful yet in that regard. Prejudices against muggleborns were still a problem.
"Anyway, I think it is highly likely that the child had magic."
That made Harry sit up.
"And she died of an undiagnosed mysterious illness."
Harry's ears pricked. "A curse," he said.
Malfoy stood again and put a small card on the desk. "This is the address. I would suggest you spend your time investigating that. And just for the record. I didn't know the family before they booked Fortescue and Miller a week ago."
Harry took up the card and let it vanish in his pocket. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said. This might be the first lead in weeks.
"You can stuff your thanks up your arse, Potter," Malfoy answered. "If you feel gratitude call back your bloodhounds."
He opened the door, not bothering to say goodbye. Not that Harry minded.
"Ah, Weasel, still here, I see." Harry heard him say.
Harry jumped up, swearing under his breath. He needed to make sure, they would not come to blows.
When he reached his door, he saw Ron and Malfoy facing each other, but at least Ron did let him pass.
"I hope you are a happy man today, Weasel." Malfoy said. Harry rolled his eyes, but Ron had himself under control even if he balled his fists. Why could the man not stop his provoking tongue just once?
The door to the department opened and Baxter entered. He had a hurried look about him and his eyes widened when he saw Malfoy. A flush entered his cheeks. And well it should. It must be embarrassing to suddenly stand face to face to the object of observation after having lost said object.
Malfoy turned around and waved at Harry.
"Care to introduce your subordinate, who is so inept at tailing?", he called.
He gave a mock bow to Baxter. "As you probably know my name is Draco Malfoy. I certainly hope I won't see you again in the foreseeable future."
Harry waited until Malfoy had left before he barked at Baxter to join him in his office. He had wanted word to get out that Malfoy was observed, but not at this time in his investigation and not with the whole department as witness. He knew that Baxter was brilliant in analysis and bad at fieldwork, and he had counted on him being detected but not that early. Harry wondered who of his people would tell Pansy. That would hopefully be a clue for the leak in the department.
Chapter 37: Saving Muggles (April 25, 1998)
Summary:
Severus Snape tries to save a middle-aged muggle couple that came into Voldemort's clutches.
Notes:
A big shout out to @marydri who helped me sort out the magic in this chapter, so that it would fit with the rest of the timeline...
It is canon that Snape tried to save muggles ever since he decided to betray Voldemort at least when it would not compromise his position at Voldemort's side.
Thanks to everyone who comments, kudos and subscribes.
Writing this fic is so much fun and I'm always glad when people enjoy it.
Chapter Text
(Severus Snape's memories, as found September 2002)
Voldemort studied Hermione's parents who stood shuddering in his presence with his red eyes. He stroked the elder wand he held in his hand.
"Legilimens." He raised his wand. The middle-aged couple in front of him squirmed under the might of his spell.
"The mudblood has been quite thorough," he summed up. "They have no memory whatsoever about her daughter. They believe that their names are Monica and Wendell Wilkins and that they always wanted to move to Australia."
"It is just as Draco observed last summer. They left even before Potter went into hiding." Snape stated.
"We can break through. Prolonged exposure to the cruciatus will break the walls of their tempered memories." Bellatrix seemed eager to start.
"And it might well leave them imbecile shells." Snape shrugged. "I doubt you would find anything useful anyway."
"Why not?" Bellatrix asked. "You are such a sissy, Severus."
"I never hid the fact, that I do not share your eagerness for the cruciatus, Bellatrix," His eyes wandered over her with disdain.
"It should be obvious. Granger tempered with her parents' memories to protect them, not to hide her own plans. She would never be so stupid as to entrust her muggle parents with her plans. And even if she did, and we find her plans somewhere in her parents' memories, they would only know where she intended to go last summer. That would not help us finding her now. They must have been hopping from one safe untraceable place to another for months now."
"What do you suggest then, Severus?" Voldemort asked.
"I am sure, you thought about that, my Lord. Keep them, use them as a leverage when the mudblood turns up. Use them to aim at Potter through her." Snape's voice was devoid of emotion. "Let Bella have some fun with them, just not too much."
Voldemort's laugh held no joy. "As if Bella had deserved a reward. No fun for her. Where to keep them, though?"
Lucius Malfoy spoke up. "In our cellar, my Lord."
Voldemort grinned, his face became even more inhuman with a gesture that could have been nice in other people.
"Listen to yourself, Lucius. You feel up to the task to hold some muggles in your cellar? In your cellar, that did not hold Harry Potter? After your wife almost ruined our chance to even get these muggles? Your wife's passion for neatness almost destroyed our chance to find them, when she cleaned their daughter's bloodstains from the floor."
Lucius Malfoy slumped.
"No, no, the cellar here will not do." Voldemort tapped with his wand on his left hand. The couple in front of him looked with horror at him. Their hands had found each other.
"Severus, you'll take them. I trust you to be able to hold on to some muggles."
"My Lord, I have no house elves, I am headmaster at Hogwarts, surely the Malfoys…."
Voldemort held up his wand and Snape stopped himself.
"Severus, do you think I don't see what you are doing? You want me to forgive the Malfoys for their extraordinary failure, but you should know better than to try to manipulate my decisions. You will take them and answer me for them."
"As you wish, my Lord. At once, my Lord." Snape bowed and manhandled the muggle couple on his way out.
"And you, my dear Bella, will not get them, even though the mudblood's blood on your knife was useful." That was the last thing to be heard.
Hermione's parents panted heavily with fear when they were apparated to Spinner's End. Snape led them to a sofa at wand's end.
"Please, sit," he told them.
Their eyes gave away their surprise at his surprisingly friendly tone. They let themselves fall on the sofa.
"This must be a misunderstanding," the man said. "We do not have a daughter."
Snape sighed.
"This is a complication I could well do without," Snape remarked. "But I promised myself that I would try my best, in every case."
Snape opened his cupboard and fetched a bowl and poured a potion into the bowl. "Not as good as a pensieve but it will have to do."
He put his wand to his own head and pulled out a silvery memory.
"I don't have much time. Brace yourself. I will show you, that you do indeed have a daughter."
He let the silvery strand descend into the bowl and on the surface of the liquid the memory came alive, not like a scene that could be entered like in a pensieve, but more like a movie that could be watched from the outside.
The memory showed the couple on their way to Platform 9 , Hermione walking in their middle, chatting happily about the excitement to go to Hogwarts.
The Grangers stared at Snape when he put his wand into the bowl and retrieved the memory.
"She does look like she could be our daughter," Mrs Granger whispered.
Snape rummaged in the drawer of one of his cupboards. When he turned again, he held a poster in his hands. "Hermione Granger", it read. "Undesirable no. 2."
Mr Granger took the poster with trembling hands.
"How?", he asked. "this is our daughter? But why don't we remember her?"
Snape explained it all to them. He spoke in clipped tones, fast and without detail, but he didn't leave out anything important. When he had finished, the Grangers knew that Wilkins was not their true name, that their daughter had tried to save them and had almost succeeded.
"What are you going to do with us?"
Snape gave a mirthless laugh.
"Up until now, the Dark Lord could probably believe that I told you all of this just to torture you. But I do not mean you any harm."
Mrs Granger had clutched the poster with her daughter's face so hard that it almost crumpled. Her eyes were moist.
"Why would she do that to us? Was there no other way to protect us?"
Snape interlaced his fingers, deep in thought.
"I don't know why the Order took no measures to protect you. It could well be, that they thought you were not important enough or that they did not have the manpower to protect you. The order has not always managed to save people, even when they tried. Maybe your daughter did not ask, maybe she was confident in her own abilities. And if your daughter had not been captured it would have been enough. It was only with her blood that the Dark Lord could trace you. He would have searched for her herself, but she's at an untraceable place."
He took a deep breath. "I am sorry, that I cannot answer this question. I can say for certain that the order has underestimated her importance, for Potter's task and for his survival."
"She was captured?" Mrs Granger asked.
"The order?" Mr Granger asked.
"She was captured but fortunately only briefly. And the Order is the Order of the Phoenix." Snape scoffed. "The light side of the magic. The good side you could say. At least after a fashion. Apparently not, when it comes to protecting muggle relations of people other than the chosen one."
He smiled without real warmth. "I had the means to observe your daughter for some months and I can assure you that she is a resourceful and resilient witch."
"Which side are you on?" the couple asked.
"I'm on the side that wants the Dark Lord dead."
"The Dark Lord?"
Snape raised an eyebrow. "I am certain you can guess who that was."
"The evil wizard. He picked our brains." Mrs Granger shuddered. "It was horrid."
"Why tell us? When he reads our minds again…. I am sure he would not want you to help us." Mr Granger's eyes were wide open with fear.
"Because I will obviously remove this conversation from your brains." Snape stood. "You will feel compelled to return to my house here as long as nothing happens. But you can buy food, cook, everything. I'll leave you money."
Snape shrugged and did not relent in the face of the Grangers obvious anxiety. "I know it's not much of a house but better than living on the streets."
"You will remember this conversation, if I die. Then that happens you must leave immediately. You should be safe enough if your daughter does not fall again into the Dark Lord's hands. Thanks to Narcissa Malfoy's neatness, he does not have the means to search for you any longer. And I will try to inform someone else who cares about your whereabouts. But I can't promise anything."
He began to wave his wand, casting his spell wordlessly as was his habit.
"Do not, under any circumstances, look for your daughter. If the Dark Lord falls, no, when the Dark Lord falls, his name may be spoken again. When you hear that name spoken out loud, you may begin to look for your daughter and resume your old life. I'll let you remember this."
The faces of Hermione's parents changed from frightened to slack under the movements of Snape's wand.
Snape reached out with his right hand and shook both their hands. "Mrs Wilkins, Mr Wilkins. I wish you a good day. That was the best I could do. I hope it will turn out to be enough."
He turned to leave the house, while Mrs Granger carefully smoothed out the poster with Hermione's face.
Chapter 38: The figurine
Summary:
Harry and Pansy do some sleuthing and might get closer to what is behind the attack on muggleborns.
Notes:
I might as well admit that this fic is also a murder mystery...
We learn a bit more about how muggleborns are found, but the why is still a mystery.
Chapter Text
Harry and Pansy had introduced themselves as Muggle doctors who did research on rare illnesses. The Northam family had led them into the house and had been very willing to answer questions. As Mrs Northam explained Pansy, they would do anything to help learn more about the mysterious illness that took their daughter's life. The Northams looked forlorn and Harry had difficulties keeping his professional distance. There were photos of happier times in the living room and the two younger siblings were subdued as children should not be.
Pansy took notes with a muggle pen.
"This might look like a strange question to you," Harry said. "But could you please tell us if you realised anything unusual apart from Emma's bodily constitution."
"What do you mean?", Mrs Northam asked.
"We are looking into the mental and psychological aspects and we would like to know, if you realised anything unusual like a vivid imagination, seeing things, hearing voices… anything."
"Emma told us some wild tales," Mr Northam mused. "In her head, she had magical talent. You know how children are nowadays. With all the fantasy books. She insisted that her little owl figurine became animate, when she was alone."
"She would go outside and throw paper birds around her and would pretend that they had real wings and flatter around her," his wife said. Her voice was shaky.
Unbidden, a memory flooded into Harry's brain, not his own memory, but the memory of Severus Snape, the memory how Lily Evans had charmed flowers and petals to fly around her.
Mr Northam handed a tissue to his wife. "Children have such a vivid imagination." His own voice trembled as well. "And that owl is very detailed and accurate." He pointed at the little figurine that stood just beside the photo of a laughing dark-haired child.
Pansy stood and examined the figurine. Harry itched to have a closer look as well, but it might make the Northams suspicious. Pansy gave him a look that clearly told him to provide a diversion.
It was time to follow his guts.
"Did you realise that these imaginary playing changed, when Emma became ill?"
That question had the parents focus on him.
"Now, that you mention it," Mrs Northam mused. "Just before her death, Emma was in tears, telling us that she had lost it. That her paper birds would not fly any longer."
Harry felt as if someone had poured ice down his neck.
He nodded gravely to stay in character. "That fits with our theory about the mental and psychological effects."
He had prepared for this by reading muggle articles on rare illnesses, so that he would have some absurd vocabulary. Fortunately, neither of the Northams were academics. Harry would never have been able to pull it off with someone who had an idea about medicine.
He risked a glance at Pansy who nodded shortly. There was still a little intricate owl sitting beside Emma's photo, but Harry was sure, Pansy had made some sort of swap. The sugarbowl Mrs Northam had put on the table looked as if a substantial number of cubes had vanished.
"I am really so sorry for your loss," Pansy remarked. "She looks like such a lovely girl."
She did indeed. Her laughter on the photo was nice, lively and of the contagious sort. Emma waved at whoever had taken that photo, the silver bracelet on her arm sparkling in the sun.
Mrs Northam blew her nose and her husband laid an arm around her.
Harry could see the moisture in Pansy's eyes.
"Thank you very much for your help, Mr and Mrs Northam," Harry said. "Your help is much appreciated all the more because it must have been so hard for you. It is so difficult to find words. I know that I cannot fathom what you suffer."
"If we can help research on this malicious illness, we can perhaps prevent other children to suffer the same."
"I sincerely hope so," Pansy said.
After saying goodbye to the Northams they portkeyed back to the office. They sat in silence for a while. Harry had made tea because a hot drink always helped.
Finally, Pansy opened her bag, and pulled out the little owl figurine. It was wrapped in a piece of cloth.
Harry reached out, but Pansy clapped her hand over his.
"Don't touch it," she snapped.
"Why?", Harry asked.
"Just a hunch. I saw a figurine like that in the shop Fawley visited, the day I followed him."
She carefully handled the figurine with the cloth.
"I think there is a spell on it."
She waved her wand and two thin fingers of turquoise and dirty yellow smoke rose from the figurine, intertwining on their way up.
"Two spells," Harry observed. "The dirty yellow one could be a message spell."
"And we don't want to trigger that." Pansy agreed. "We don't want to alert them that we are investigating."
She turned the figurine around, and Harry pointed at a hole at the bottom. The hole was closed with a plastic or rubber stopper.
"Try that."
Pansy carefully peeled the stopper out, still not touching it with her bare hands. When she waved her wand again, the tendrils of smoke became separate, the turquoise one whirling around the figurine, the yellow one around the stopper.
They smiled at each other. Harry fetched a jar, levitated the stopper and put it into the jar.
"Maybe we'll be able to find out where the message goes. The figurine can't hold a malicious curse. The Northams were unaffected."
"Be ready," Harry said. "I am going to touch it."
Harry put his finger on the little owl and the figurine moved. The owl blinked, stretched its wings and looked like it was about to hoot. When Harry withdrew his finger, the owl immediately went rigid again in the same posture she had had before.
"Does it react to touch?", Pansy wondered. She touched the owl herself and the figurine came alive again.
She shook her head, correcting herself. "No, it can't be. The Northams would have realised that."
"Why does it react?" Harry wondered.
"We have to test. My assumption is that it reacts to the magic in us. When a muggle touches it, nothing happens, but a muggleborn?"
"And if a child with magic touches it, it becomes animate."
"And somebody gets an alert." Pansy concluded.
"Somebody gets an alert." Harry shuddered. "And then…. "
"A curse is applied. And in Emma's case it wasn't just an easy bruising spell."
Pansy banged her fist on Harry's desk. "Bastards," she shouted. "I'll get them and if it's the last thing I do."
Harry laid his hands on her fist. "We'll get them. I promise."
He wondered who else he could put on this case. He still did not know whom to trust in this. He found himself missing Neville.
Pansy was breathing hard. Harry could see that she fought for control.
"Pansy, you look into what exactly triggers the figurine, the working assumption is that it might be magic in wizards and witches. I'll be working on finding out what kind of curse they put on Emma. And I'll set someone on trying to find out who gets alerted."
"Fawley must be observed more closely. He bought similar figurines at that muggle shop."
Harry nodded. "I'll appoint someone trustworthy." Who, though? Who? Harry immediately thought of Teddy. He trusted Teddy, but he did not want to put Teddy at risk. And people who cursed children certainly had no scruples.
"Are you sure, you want to look into the curse?"
"It reminds me of another case. I have an idea." Harry answered.
"I could prepare some of the figurines in that shop, so that we can track them. What they can do, we can do as well."
"Do not prepare the figurines. The risk is too great, they might realise we tempered with them. Maybe the wrappings?"
Pansy nodded. "O.k., boss." She took a deep breath, calming herself.
When Pansy had taken off, Harry went down into the memory vaults to check his own theory. The memory vault held memories of hundreds of cases. Memories of observations would be put there for a while, so that the aurors could forget them, if they wanted to, sometimes memories were stored for cold cases. Memories could be tempered with and they could be altered unintentionally, and they were only admissible in court under certain circumstances. Harry shook his head when he thought about Slughorn's memory he had hunted for so many months in his sixth year. That had been altered so clumsily! Since then he had come across much more deftly altered memories.
Harry had never regretted installing the memory vault. Looking at some events from different perspectives had helped in more than one case. Now, he wanted to look at a very particular memory, that he had deliberately misfiled under a small theft case from 2001.
There was a spell that could syphon magic from one person to another. If he remembered correctly this spell worked only for a time, a 'potentially dark spell'. But a scutum only worked for short time as well, and Snape had somehow managed to make it last. What if this transferring spell could be applied permanently? What if someone had found Snape's carrier? What if Emma had been drained of her magic until she had lost her life?
The witch who had the task of handing out memories today was not very diligent. She was about to leave and instead of fetching her books and handing out the boxes with the vials, she just told Harry to look for what he needed on his own. At any other time, Harry would have scolded her. It didn't matter that he was head auror. He should have to sign in like everyone else. But he kept his indignation to himself. Somebody might wonder why he was looking into a theft from 2001.
He went down the aisles and took a ladder, knowing that the one box he needed was well out of his reach and he dared not levitate the fragile vials. He had to sneeze because of the dust and saw his own footprints on the floor. He climbed the ladder and snagged the box that said "Major, December 18, 2001".
He opened the box, and his breath hitched. The vial was gone.
Chapter 39: The Room of Hidden Things (May 2, 1998)
Summary:
Harry, Ron and Hermione search for the Ravenclaw diadem in the Room of Hidden Things, and Hermione chances upon Draco who finally has an opportunity to fetch the Phoenix Potion.
Notes:
When I wrote this chapter, I re-read the relevant chapter in TDH and I was actually quite astonished, how easy it is to bend canon.
If you try to discard Harry's POV and just look at what Draco says, it can all be interpreted in a different way, namely Crabbe and Goyle trying to kill or captivate Harry and Draco trying to help Harry without antagonizing Crabbe and Goyle.
I don't think that JKR wrote it that ambiguous on purpose, but it is interesting that you just have to change POV and assume Draco is a double agent and then the whole scene has quite a different look.
So, in the end, I've bent canon far less than I thought I had to...
Chapter Text
"Let's split up, we'll never find the diadem in this jumble otherwise," Harry shouted.
Hermione nodded and they all darted in three different directions. Hermione's breath was uneven. They had successfully robbed Gringotts, and Ron and she had found the basilisk's teeth and destroyed the cup. Now the diadem.
She stopped a moment to calm down. She recalled the long rows of students that had stood in the Great Hall back into her memory. Draco had not been among them. Professor McGonagall had brought all the students who could not fight or would not fight to safety. But Draco had not been among them. Was he dead? Had he died already, a victim of Voldemort's wrath?
Hermione chided herself. She had sworn to herself that she would see this through. They needed to defeat Voldemort and then she could look for Draco and sort out whatever this was, this string between them. Afterwards, afterwards, then there would be time to sort out what had happened at Malfoy Manor.
She forced herself to look along the rows of shelves that held the treasures and garbage of generations and searched for the diadem. In the distance she thought she could hear the soft footsteps of Harry and Ron. She took a shuddering breath. She was overtired and her imagination ran wild. She thought she heard a rustling sound.
She rounded a corner and ran into the green door of a cupboard that stood open. She gasped and when the door swung shut, she stood eye in eye with Draco.
He held a bag in his hands and Hermione saw that it was filled with vials.
Their eyes locked for a long moment. Hermione forgot that she was supposed to look for the diadem. She stopped thinking for a moment, her emotions overwhelming her.
"Granger," he breathed, just as she whispered his name.
"You're alive," they said in unison.
Suddenly, she felt her eyes moisten. He lived. Voldemort had not killed him. Somehow, he had survived the anger that must have followed their escape.
He took her arm and pulled her closer.
"I did not dare to hope," he told her. "Did it even work? Did she hurt you?"
Hermione shook her head. "No, you protected me."
Somehow, they had closed in, edging toward each other, so that their bodies touched, and their breath mingled. His gaze never left hers. She had to crane her neck to look up to him.
"Hermione," he whispered. His left hand wandered to her neck and he buried his hand in her hair. He pulled her closer and then his lips crashed on hers. It was a desperate kiss, deep and passionate, a mixture of relief, hope, defiance, and desperation, as if they had to press all the abundance of feelings into these few minutes. Her blood rushed in her veins, she felt as if she were drowning, his body the only lifeline that kept her aloft.
He broke the kiss, and she stood with her lips parted. She could hear him sucking in air.
"Close your mouth, just for a moment," he said.
She had lost all orientation, but snapped her mouth shut. Draco took one vial out of his bag and smashed it on her neck. She felt a cool, pleasant liquid run down her body for the quarter of a second, before it evaporated in thin white lines of fume. Draco slung the bag over his back and fastened it.
Draco smiled. "Phoenix Potion. It will keep you safe for six hours."
He bent down again, hungrily searching her lips.
"Hold it, Potter", Hermione heard someone say.
They sprang apart. Draco cursed. "That's Crabbe and probably Goyle. How did they get here? I really don't need these idiots now!"
He sprinted into the direction of the voice and outran Hermione quickly with his longer legs.
"That's my wand you're holding, Potter", she heard Draco say.
"Not any longer," Harry answered. "Winners, keepers."
Draco snarled.
"How did you get here?" Harry asked.
"I practically lived here for the last two years," Draco answered.
Hermione skidded to a halt, trying to sneak behind Crabbe's back.
"We was hiding in the corridor outside. Can do Dis-lussions charms now," Crabbe said. "And then you turned up right in front of us and said you was looking for a die-dum. What's a die-dum?"
Ron was shouting for Harry, and Crabbe cast a spell to cut Ron off. A flood of things spouted into the aisle where Ron stood.
Harry cast a Finite spell to stop Crabbe, and Draco's hand shot out at Crabbe's wandarm.
"If you wreck this room, you might bury this diadem thing."
Crabbe tugged himself free. "What's that matter. It's Potter the Dark Lord wants, who cares about a die-dum."
"Potter came here to get it. So that must mean…" Draco began to argue with him.
"'Must mean'", Crabbe sneered. "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco, you an' your dad are finished."
Then everything happened incredibly fast. Ron shouted for Harry, Harry tried to jump at the diadem, that sat on a bust atop of a huge pile of jumble, Crabbe tried to cast the cruciatus at Harry. Hermione fired a stunning curse at Crabbe, but missed by inches, because Draco had pushed at Crabbe to misdirect his curses.
"Don't kill him, STOP," Draco shouted, his voice almost toppling over. "The Dark Lord wants him alive."
Crabbe rounded on her. He had noticed the stunning curse.
"The Mudblood," he shouted. "Adava kedavra."
Hermione dived but could have sworn the curse hit her. She heard a tiny spattering noise. Draco's potion seemed to work. Hers and Draco's eyes met for the tiny fracture of a moment. She panted in fear.
"Don't kill him. Don't kill him," Draco yelled again, when Crabbe aimed his wand at Harry again, and tried to tackle him. The bulky Crabbe pushed Draco of him and set him and his wand flying.
Goyle appeared from another aisle, Ron in pursuit. Crabbe aimed at Ron and cast the killing curse again. Ron ducked.
"Expelliarmus," Harry yelled, and Goyle's wand fell into his hand.
Crabbe's face distorted in anger, and he began to cast another spell that made Hermione's hackles rise.
The fire that spouted from Crabbe's wand was not normal fire, it was like a living ravenous beast, growing heads that consumed everything close in a terrible hunger, a hunger that ached to devour living beings.
Crabbe tried to leash the fire with his wand to do his bidding, but to no avail. When he fell into the jaws of a particularly nasty looking dragon, all thought of fighting fled them, and they all ran from the fire. For a brief moment, Hermione's hand found Draco's. She was determined to not let go, but they were separated when one of the piles came down sliding.
When the flaming beasts had Hermione, Ron and Harry almost cornered, they chanced upon brooms, Harry swung his legs over one broom and Ron took Hermione on his. They barely escaped the flames that snapped at them with relentless hunger.
"Draco," Hermione shouted, "Goyle, we have to find them."
"It's too dangerous," Ron shouted. "Let's get out. The door, the door."
Hermione tried to steer the broom just above the flames, looking for Draco.
"What are you doing?" Ron demanded, trying to get control of the broom.
"The diadem," Harry shouted and dived, hands on his glasses to peer into the smoke.
Draco stood on a pile of rubbish, supporting Goyle with one hand, the diadem in his other.
Hermione flicked her wand and levitated Goyle on their broom, while Harry snatched Draco in the middle, the hand with the diadem dangling behind.
They raced to the door, and made it out at the last moment, the fiery beasts licking at their heels. The brooms collided with the wall on the other side of the door and they all fell off. Hermione landed safely on the enormous form of Goyle who had been hit on his head and lay unmoving. Ron had managed to brace his fall with his knees.
Draco lay on his side, trying to force air into his lungs amidst heavy coughing. His left arm stuck out, the sleeve half burned off, the dark mark clearly visible amidst what looked like heavy burns. Harry had landed on his bum.
Hermione's gaze fell on the diadem that had fallen out of Draco's hand to the floor. It looked unblemished, as if the flames had not touched it, but suddenly remnants of fiendfyre danced just under the surface of the diadem and all of a sudden it dissolved into smoke, leaving a feeling of taint and most foul dark magic that Hermione recognized. A horcrux was destroyed.
"What was that?", Draco asked, his eyes widened in fear and disgust.
"A horcrux," Hermione whispered.
"Now, it is just the snake," she shouted triumphantly. "It is just the snake."
She picked herself up and not a moment too early. While they had been searching the diadem, the fighting had gone on and they could hear fighters coming closer.
Harry shouted in defiance, and ran towards the fight, wand at the ready, Ron followed on his heels. Hermione bent down to Draco.
Draco had begun to hold his left arm, whimpering, curling up in pain.
"Not now, please not now. I don't want…."
She untangled his right hand from where he clutched his mark and helped him up. She kissed the knuckles of his right hand trying to distract him from the pain.
Hermione put her mouth to his ears. "You have no wand," she whispered. "Please, hide, save yourself. We just have to kill the snake now, and then Voldemort can die. Defy his call."
His gaze was bewildered. Hermione thought at first, that he might be too much in pain by the Dark Lord's call, but then he nodded. He opened his bag and gave Hermione some of the vials.
"Just in case, remember to pour it over yourself after six hours. Just don't swallow it. That will stop your magic. Do what you have to do."
Hermione held his gaze for a short moment, trying to give him confidence.
"I'll just try to help with these, save some lives. I wish you all the luck in the world!"
She pressed his hand for an all too short moment, turned and ran after Harry and Ron.