The Drawing Room

As the Order and the remaining members of Dumbledore's Army gathered to discuss their next steps, a palpable tension filled the air. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls, reflecting the gravity of their mission. Word had spread that Voldemort had converted Malfoy Manor into his main base, and the death toll linked to that cursed location was staggering. Each name that had fallen haunted Draco like an unshakable specter.

Draco stood at the front of the room, the map of Malfoy Manor unfurled on the table before him, each line and marking etched into his memory. The walls felt oppressive, closing in on him as he took a deep breath, the scent of old parchment and desperation thick in the air. He couldn't shake the feeling that everyone was waiting for him to make a move, to give them hope amid the darkness.

"I can help," he said, his voice steady, though uncertainty coiled within him. "I know the wards. I know how my father reinforced them with blood magic. I can guide you through the manor." The words felt heavy on his tongue, but he pressed on. "I know the history of the Manor, the rituals that were performed there. It was built to protect those who dwell inside it, but I can help you navigate it."

The room was silent, the weight of his offer hanging in the air. He could feel the skepticism radiating from some of the members, their eyes narrowed, questioning whether he was truly on their side. After all, he had once been a Death Eater, a part of the darkness they were now fighting against.

Hermione's memory struck him like a thunderbolt, her voice urging him to find his own path, to fight against the darkness he had once embraced. He gripped the edge of the table, grounding himself as he continued. "My father used blood magic to bind himself to Voldemort. It's the reason I was tied to him, but I'm no longer under that influence. We can use this knowledge to our advantage."

"The wards are complicated," Draco continued, eyes fixed on the map. "They're built on a foundation of trust and betrayal, and if you step inside without understanding them, you risk triggering alarms that will summon Death Eaters in droves. I know how to manipulate them, but…" His voice faltered. "It's risky."

"What's the plan?" Theo asked, stepping forward. The tension in the room was thick, yet the gravity of the situation brought a sense of unity they hadn't felt in a long time.

Draco looked up, meeting Theo's gaze. "We'll split into two groups. One will create a distraction outside, while the other infiltrates the manor. I'll lead the infiltration team. I know the layout, the hidden passages, and where the wards are weakest."

Hermione's face flashed in his mind again—her intelligence, her bravery. He knew he had to push through the doubts that lingered. "I won't let you down," he promised, even as uncertainty gnawed at his insides.

As the others began discussing the logistics, he caught sight of Ginny and Theo exchanging worried glances. He could feel their fear, their hope, and their determination to push forward, even as the shadow of Voldemort loomed larger than ever.

They all knew the stakes, and Draco understood the unspoken agreement in the room—this was a fight for their lives, for their friends, for the very soul of the wizarding world. They were stepping into the lion's den, but he would do everything in his power to ensure they emerged on the other side.

"We'll meet at the edge of the woods before dawn," he said decisively, his voice rising above the murmurs. "From there, we can plan our approach"

As they finalized their plans, a surge of adrenaline coursed through Draco, fueling the fire within him. He would not let the past dictate his actions any longer. This was his chance to stand for something greater, hoping to reclaim the pieces of himself he had lost.

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The air was thick with tension as Draco and his team crept through the darkened corridors of Malfoy Manor, their footsteps barely making a sound on the cold stone floor. Shadows flickered in the dim light, casting eerie shapes against the walls as they moved cautiously, wands at the ready.

Beside him, Ginny's expression was a mixture of determination and apprehension. Theo's brow furrowed as he scanned the shadows, every creak of the floorboards echoing like a warning bell. Luna walked with an uncanny calm, her eyes flickering with a strange light, as if she could sense the chaos around them.

They were nearing the drawing room, where Voldemort was rumored to be waiting, and the tension escalated with every step they took. Draco could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him, memories of loss and pain flooding his mind, but he pushed them aside. This was no time for hesitation.

"Stay close," Draco whispered, his voice steady. "We're almost there."

The team moved in unison, their resolve hardening. As they reached the door to the drawing room, they paused, exchanging glances filled with unspoken determination. They could hear the sounds of fierce dueling echoing in the distance, spells ricocheting off the walls, and screams of agony slicing through the air.

"On three," Ginny breathed, her grip tightening around her wand.

Draco nodded, adrenaline coursing through his veins. "One… two… three!"

With a swift motion, they pushed the door open, stepping into the heart of the manor.

The drawing room was vast and lavishly decorated, but it felt suffocatingly dark, a heavy silence lingering in the air. In the center stood Voldemort, his snake-like visage twisted into a cruel smile.

The walls seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, wards shimmering around them, protecting their master. The oppressive feeling in the room was suffocating, but they were not about to turn back now. They had come too far, lost too much. The wards were keeping a tight shield around Voldemort.

"Draco!" Theo shouted, urgency in his voice. "We need to break those wards! We can't let him keep us at bay."

With a nod, Draco stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the wards. "I'll handle it. You two keep him distracted."

Ginny and Theo moved to flank Voldemort, their wands raised, spells already spilling from their lips. "Expelliarmus!" Ginny shouted, but Voldemort merely flicked his wand, sending the spell careening off into the wall.

"You'll need more than that, little girl," he hissed, his voice like a snake's slither.

Draco concentrated, feeling the magic of the wards pressing against him like a physical force. He reached into the depths of his memory, recalling the incantations his father had once used, the dark power that flowed through the manor.

"Draco, hurry!" Theo yelled as Voldemort retaliated with a wave of his wand, conjuring a barrage of dark curses that streaked toward them.

Draco's heart raced as he fought against the wards, using all his knowledge to unravel the protections surrounding Voldemort. Sweat dripped down his brow, and he could feel the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.

Theo and Ginny bounced spell after spell at the dark lord. They weren't attempting to kill him, they were just trying to distract him enough for draco to destroy the wards and shields.

"You're not going to win, Tom!" Ginny shouted, unintentionally sounding nearly identical to harry.

"Foolish children!" Voldemort hissed, his fury palpable. "You think you can stand against me?"

The chaos outside intensified as the Order clashed with the Death Eaters, spells flying like fireworks. Draco could hear the sounds of battle—Rodulphus Lestrange and Avery engaging Fred and George, their familiar banter now tinged with urgency as they fought to survive. Tonks was dueling with Yaxley, her moves fluid and deadly, while Alicia Spinnet took on Rosier with fierce determination.

Draco turned back to the wards, focusing harder. He could feel the magic pulsing beneath his fingertips, the energy thrumming in the air. Draco muttered the incantation, feeling the wards tremble under his magic. They were ancient, twisted by blood magic, but he felt a connection to the manor, a bond forged in his childhood that he could exploit.

The wards flickered, and he felt a surge of triumph as a crack appeared. "I think I can—"

But Voldemort, sensing the breach, turned his fury upon them. "Now what do you think you're doing Draco?" His voice rose, a dangerous crescendo that echoed in their minds.

With a furious wave of his wand, the air shimmered, and a wave of dark energy swept toward them, threatening to engulf everything in its path. Draco braced himself, summoning every ounce of magic he had, every shred of resolve.

"Now, Ginny! Theo!" he shouted, urging them to cast their curses as strong as they could.

They unleashed a torrent of magic, bright and fierce, the combined strength momentarily pushing Voldemort back. The room shook, and Draco felt the wards collapsing around them, the tension of the battle reaching a fever pitch.

Outside the drawing room, the sounds of battle raged on, the clash of spells and cries of agony a constant reminder of the stakes. The other group had made it over to this side and were now helping the infiltration group fight off the death eaters. Draco's heart pounded in his chest, every breath a reminder of what was at stake—the lives of their friends and the world they had fought so hard to reclaim.

As the dust settled in the drawing room, Draco stood firmly next to ginny and Theo.