Chapter 21: A matter of... blood?
Draco knew that sneaking Crookshanks into the manor would be a complicated task. He would have to be extremely discreet and make sure that not a single house-elf knew of the wretched cat's presence in his bedroom. Knowing how gossipy those elves were, he was sure the news would reach his father's ears within minutes. And given that Lucius Malfoy did not tolerate animals in the house, that was out of the question.
Fortunately, the perfect opportunity presented itself when his mother came to collect him from Hogwarts after being informed of the school's sudden closure. Dumbledore had stipulated that at least one of the students' parents had to appear in person and sign a document confirming that they were taking responsibility for them, so the grounds were soon filled with anxious parents asking questions about the reasons for the closure.
"You're looking better, darling," his mother said with a charming smile as she arrived. "Healthier".
Draco nodded, distracted. His eyes scanned the crowd, searching for Hermione's parents among the faces, thinking that if he found them, he could hand Crookshanks over to them and avoid taking the cat with him. But he stopped short, realising that the authorities had most likely already gone to their house to inform them of their daughter's disappearance. It made no sense for them to come here just to deliver such terrible news - news that everyone would prefer to receive in the privacy of their own home.
"Mother, I need you to help me with something..." he said quietly as they prepared to leave.
The woman raised an eyebrow in curiosity.
"What is it, dear?" she asked with the same gentleness she always showed him.
Draco hesitated for a moment, but there was no one in the world who could be a better ally than his mother right now.
He pulled out his wand and with a flick of his wrist, a small cage appeared among his belongings.
"It's… Daphne's cat," he lied. Telling the truth would have meant admitting his feelings for Hermione, which would have required a lot of explaining. And he didn't have time to waste - "Just like my father, her parents don't want animals in the house. And I can't leave it here. She... she would want me to take it with me."
Her mother looked at him with a mixture of sympathy and concern.
"Darling, you know how your father is with animals."
"Yes, and that's why I need your help. Do you think you could distract him a little when we get to the manor? Just so he doesn't notice that I'm taking the cat to my room."
The woman leaned forward slightly to get a better look at the animal.
"For Salazar's sake, what an ugly cat," she said with a grimace.
"I wouldn't advise insulting him. He understands... and he holds grudges," Draco found himself repeating the same words Hermione had said to him weeks before.
"Well," she continued, "I suppose I could keep your father occupied long enough for you to sneak him into your room without being seen. But make sure he never finds out, all right?" She took his chin between her fingers to make him look at her. Then she added in a very quiet voice, "Do you want to talk about what happened to Daphne?"
Draco fought the lump that was forming in his throat.
"Not here, mother," he replied as he straightened his shirt.
"Of course. I just want you to know that everyone at the Ministry is working hard to find out what happened. Your father is doing everything he can to lead his subordinates to the truth."
Of course. That was to be expected, given that his father was the head of the Ministry's School Board. But as far as Draco understood, his father's influence went beyond his official position. Influence that had gotten the woman who would later curse him sacked.
"Mother, do you know who Beatrice Brown is?" Draco asked in an impulse he couldn't control as they made their way towards the exit of the Hogwarts grounds.
Narcissa frowned, surprised, as if the name brought back memories she hadn't thought of in a long time.
"Where did you hear that name?" she murmured in a confused tone. "It's impossible for you to remember - you were just a baby..."
Draco replied quickly, trying to control his impatience.
"I heard father had her fired from the Ministry," he said, watching his mother's reaction carefully.
Narcissa stopped walking, lost in thought. Finally, she let out a soft sigh before answering.
"Beatrice and I were very close when you and her daughter were young. I'm not sure if you know Hannah Abbott, I think she's in Hufflepuff, or maybe Ravenclaw," she said with a hint of nostalgia. "We used to meet for tea every week. She was a lovely woman, and I came to consider her a friend... But Beatrice never worked in the Ministry, at least not to my knowledge. After she divorced her husband, she lost many of her connections in the magical world. She even stopped speaking to me. It was... puzzling at the time."
Draco frowned. The information didn't match what the woman had told him.
"So father had nothing to do with her being dismissed?" he asked, a mixture of confusion and suspicion in his voice.
"Not that I know of," Narcissa replied, shaking her head. "He never mentioned anything like that. What is strange, though, is that you should bring it up now," she added suddenly, as if something had just occurred to her, "because we received an invitation from John Abbott yesterday. He's giving a party at his manor to introduce his new fiancée to society."
Draco looked at her, stunned. It was a strange coincidence.
"Mr Abbott's new fiancée?" he asked, unable to hide his astonishment.
He knew he'd just been given pieces of the strange puzzle, but he still hadn't managed to put them all together in his mind. Draco swallowed hard. He was sure that Beatrice Brown had something to do with everything that had happened, but now he had more questions than answers.
His mother nodded and at that moment Draco felt an uncomfortable presence approaching him. Turning, he saw Harry Potter walking towards him with a resigned look on his face.
"Malfoy." Potter's tone was filled with annoyance at having to address him, but he also seemed nervous.
Draco frowned. Did he have some information about Hermione?
"I'll catch up with you, mother."
Narcissa nodded again and walked towards the exit, her son's belongings (including the cat) floating in the air behind her.
"Speak."
Harry adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.
"Have you seen Pansy? I can't find her anywhere."
Draco closed his eyes in frustration. For a moment he had thought that Potter might have found a clue to Hermione's whereabouts.
"Why the hell would I know where Pansy is?" he replied, crossing his arms.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, clearly annoyed at having to explain.
"Because she has my wand," he finally confessed, a mixture of irritation and embarrassment in his voice.
Draco raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Why would Pansy have your wand?"
Harry huffed.
"Sometimes... sometimes she steals it without me noticing," he admitted, looking away. "She does it to make me chase her and ask for it back. It's some kind of... game, I guess."
Draco stared at him in disbelief for a few seconds before letting out a dry laugh.
"For Salazar's sake, Potter. Is that how you flirt with her?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't know if I should feel sorry for you."
Harry didn't answer, just glared at him. He was too worried about finding his wand before he left to get into a fight. Besides, there had been too many disappearances lately... He didn't want to think about it. Pansy was a strong and independent girl who knew how to protect herself from danger.
Draco looked over Potter's shoulder. His parents were talking to the Weasleys, probably speculating about the sudden closure of the school.
"Ask Blaise," he suggested, turning to join his mother.
The dark cellar smelled of damp, and the motes of dust floating around made her sneeze.
Hermione had lost track of time. She couldn't be sure if hours or days had passed since she'd been kidnapped and locked in there. Her wrists had begun to develop sores from the chafing of the restraints, and her skin burned every time she moved. Her shoulders and back ached from the position she had been in for too long.
She was cold. Colder than she had ever felt in her life. Her lips were dry and it hurt to swallow. She shivered and sniffed constantly. Whoever had taken her seemed to have forgotten about her and her basic needs, so there was now a pool of urine between her knees on the cement floor. She felt humiliated and frightened, as if she were little more than a dying animal.
Suddenly, the sound of the door opening again snapped her out of her thoughts. Footsteps echoed, followed by a low murmur and then a dull thud. Hermione lifted her head with difficulty, her eyes blinking at the brightness of the hallway. Her captor, whom she still didn't recognise, appeared in the doorway, dragging another unconscious girl with him. The girl's straight black hair fell over her face, but Hermione recognised her instantly: it was Pansy Parkinson.
"What... what did you do to her?" Hermione managed to ask, her voice broken and weak from hunger and exhaustion.
The man ignored her and, with a cold gesture, dropped Parkinson to the ground in front of her.
"You're probably wondering why you're here," the man began in a deep, solemn voice. Hermione, weak and exhausted, could barely resist the urge to retort sarcastically. Had she had more strength, she surely would have - "I suppose you have the right to know how valuable you've become since Draco Malfoy impregnated you. Did you know? Did you know you're pregnant? You're a little whore, aren't you?" He laughed so crudely that Hermione had to suppress a gag. "But those are the consequences of not controlling those teenage hormones, so congratulations, you're going to be a mum! And you'll go down in history despite being a... Mudblood. But we'll fix that."
He pulled out his wand and pointed it at Parkinson's limp body. An unseen force yanked her by the ankles, leaving her hanging from the ceiling. Then, with a quick movement, he made a cut in her forearm. Blood dripped straight into a tin bucket that had suddenly appeared there.
Hermione found the man staring at Pansy's underwear, now exposed.
"Leave her alone!" Hermione managed to scream at the top of her lungs.
"Don't worry dear, we're going to need her," he replied, turning his attention back to her. "You see, my father was the right-hand man of one of the most powerful wizards of recent years. He taught me many things about him, instilled in me the values they both shared, and entrusted me with an important mission to lead the magical world back to the path it should never have strayed from." He paused dramatically as Pansy let out a barely audible moan. Was she waking up? "He entrusted me with a potion. A very special potion, containing a part of Voldemort's soul. I don't expect you to know who he was. Sadly, he was murdered when I was a child."
But Hermione knew who he was... or at least she remembered reading about him in a book on the history of magic from the last century. It wasn't a name that many people mentioned or remembered. Nor his real name... Tom... something.
There was a chapter inModern Magical Historythat briefly mentioned Voldemort. Nothing extensive, just a few pages devoted to him, enough to portray him as an almost insignificant figure in the vast landscape of magical history. He was described as a brilliant young man from Slytherin who, in the 1940s, had begun to experiment with the Dark Arts and to gather followers for a supremacist cause. Death Eaters, Hermione thought, remembering the term with some difficulty as the information was buried deep in her mind.
Those who followed him shared his vision: to cleanse the magical world of those who were not of pure blood, and in the process subjugate the Muggles under their rule. It was a dark and dangerous movement, one that sought to radically change the structure of the magical world. History, however, remembered it mostly as a failed project. Despite his ambitions to lead a supremacist uprising and establish a new order in the wizarding world, he never managed to fully consolidate his power. He was stopped and killed by Aurors before his influence could fully spread.
"A failed movement for blood purity," Hermione remembered reading, as if history had underestimated the danger he posed. What chilled her to the bone, however, was another detail that many seemed to have overlooked: his experiments with dark magic. Voldemort had done things that only the most twisted minds could even contemplate. Among other things, he had attempted to become immortal by splitting his soul into several fragments, creating what were known as Horcruxes. Although the books didn't confirm whether he had succeeded or not, the theories suggested that it was possible that he had at least tried.
At that moment, her captor had just revealed to her that he had succeeded. That at least part of Voldemort's soul had been put into a potion. But what did this have to do with her? What did it have to do with her being kidnapped?
Suddenly Pansy moved up behind the kidnapper. Hermione looked at her in horror, realising that she had just regained consciousness. She still seemed quite dazed, but she pulled a wand from the waistband of her skirt and attacked the man from behind, casting a spell that caused him to fall face first in front of Hermione. She then broke the spell that was holding her upside down and dropped to the floor with a thud. She let out a scream of pain that sent shivers down Hermione's spine, and from the way she clutched her side, Hermione guessed she must have broken a rib. The blood that had just dripped from her forearm now soaked her clothes as she crawled towards the door.
The man stood up furiously, and although Pansy tried to defend herself by casting more spells at him, he dodged them with relative ease. The girl wasn't in any condition to fight anyone, let alone someone of his size.
"No!" Hermione screamed as the man grabbed her by the neck and slammed her against the wall.
She screamed and screamed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she watched the girl struggle for breath. As she watched the kicking gradually stopped. As her body went limp again, the wand slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. Was it Harry's wand?
The man hung her again from the ceiling before turning to Hermione.
"Sorry for the interruption. I made sure to take her wand, but how was I supposed to know she had two wands? Who carries two wands?" He sighed and put his hands on his hips. "Now, where were we?"