The Malfoy Manor

Draco:

Snape and he disapparated at the ward line, just after the line that Rowena Ravenclaw had drawn in the dirt. They reappeared at the border of Malfoy Manor, but the fog was so thick that Draco couldn't see the house. Just the ivy-covered archway and the cobblestone walkway.

The cobblestones had carvings in them and Draco had always thought they seemed charming. But he considered whether a paved sidewalk might be more comfortable.

Of course, he needed to stay alive first. And inherit the place first. And not get written out of his parent's will first.

Snape set out at a brisk walk up the path. His robes rolled over billows in the wind and the fabric made snapping sounds as it curled. Flowerbeds and shrubbery came into view out of the mist, and then the outline of the roof assisted before the windows and doors of the Malfoy Manor appeared. No lights were on. Everything felt spooky.

They let themselves in the front door and screams could be heard. One death eater with his mask on stood beside the ballroom door underneath the staircase up ahead, stone still. No one was in the foyer and cobwebs were covering the umbrella rack beside the door. Draco's breath made a cool mist against his face.

"Ten minutes early," Snape drawled. "Right on time."

The death eater beside the bathroom door opened it and entered, all without saying a word aloud. Snape walked towards the ballroom. He, too, opened the door, and as he did, heard "Avada Kedavra!" A flash of green light escaped, along with a scream cut short.

Draco took fistfuls of his robes in his fists. When had his home become such a hellish nightmare?

Snape stepped inside and closed the door most of the way, leaving his arm and sleeve visible behind him. What was he seeing? Who had just died?

Underneath the stairs were mouse droppings. Spiders were building webs in the corners.

Snape opened the door after a few seconds. "The Dark Lord will see you now," he said to Draco.

Draco's stomach felt like it shrank to half its size in a second. "It's early," he said.

"Indeed. This is why we're early."

That was fine. Draco straightened his shoulders. He walked heel-to-toe, to get that satisfying click on the floor and he timed his stride so that every step was half a second long.

He expected the air inside the ballroom to be as cold as the air in the foyer, but it was rather boggish instead. A dull, uncomfortable warmth emanating from many torches on the wall. That felt normal. They were bright torches, as well. But there was an odd smell of something akin to rot and bile and the air was moist.

A throne had been erected. A new stone structure had been built slightly off-center in the ballroom. He could see how hastily made it was – the stone grout was applied unevenly. His father's best chair from his study had been brought down. And the Dark Lord sat in this chair, on his pedestal, with a wand that looked remarkably like Lucius Malfoy's in his hand.

Where was his father?

He didn't dare a look around the room as he walked forward and stopped twenty meters away from Lord Voldemort, but gathered that at least twenty Death Eaters had to be in the room aside from him, the Dark Lord, and Snape. There was no sign of a body.

Thinking the name in the Dark Lord's presence brought a rush on. It had only been recently he'd begun saying it to his friends.

He sank into a bow, falling on one knee, and dropping his head towards the floor. "My lord," he said. "Thank you for seeing me early."

"Thank you for coming early," the Dark Lord said, almost serenely. "We'll have you back to school before the Headmaster knows you're gone."

"Thank you, my lord," Draco said, and an idea suddenly came to him as he rose up to a standing position. "But there is no Headmaster at Hogwarts currently."

The room stirred with the information. Draco knew it had to be current information – it had only happened this morning. Fudge would surely print it in the Daily Prophet the following morning, but until then, no one in the Wizarding World would know. Only a few students knew – though the rumours had begun spreading at dinner. And by bringing it a little early, Draco could earn trust.

"No Headmaster at Hogwarts?" the Dark Lord asked. He laid the wand he was holding – Lucius's wand, there was no doubt – down at his side. "What has happened to Dumbledore?"

"The minister removed Dumbledore as Headmaster," Draco said. "They want Professor Umbridge to take over the position. Professor Dumbledore is going to begin teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts."

There was a general murmur that went through the room. Draco felt different feelings from the crowd. Success, irritation, and dismay.

"Well," the Dark Lord said. "I think I preferred him as a Transfiguration teacher. He has the capacity to do a lot of harm to our cause as a Defence teacher. Thank you for telling us, Draco. The information coming from Hogwarts recently has been confusing. None of the children of my devoted Death Eaters can tell us much. What can you tell us?"

"My lord," Draco said, using the term as frequently as possible. In the back of his head, he recalled something Rosalie had said. You can often earn credit with someone by referring to them by their title. Officer. Minister. Headmaster. Thinking of her helped him relax a little. "The castle is out of control. The ministry seems to have triggered some innate magic by placing Umbridge in the castle. It has taken up a mind of its own. It resorted some students into new houses and has forced each student into silence. No one can tell any person outside the castle which house a person is in, unless they themselves say it."

"And are you, Draco, still a Slytherin?" the Dark Lord asked.

"Naturally," Draco confirmed. "I belong nowhere else."

The Dark Lord nodded to himself and picked up Lucius Malfoy's wand. "Well, Draco, thank you for telling us what you've told us. Now, let us focus on why we're here. Have you found the Vanishing Cabinet, as described in the room I told you about?"

"Yes, my lord."

"What state is it in?"

"The left panel from the door is completely destroyed. I have begun constructing a new one. I have never worked with wood before, and I only have the tools the room can provide me with, but I have created a panel that fits and I have begun carving the power runes into the wood." Draco began to move as he spoke. He held his hands apart to demonstrate the width of the panel and the height and thickness.

"How long until the runes are carved?" The Dark Lord seemed extremely impressed with his efforts so far, which helped Draco relax.

"It is slow going," Draco said. "The runes need to be carved at proper depths in the wood. The carving requires sharp angles. I do not know what tools could possibly accomplish the task." He held his hand straight in front of him, indicating a perfect right angle. "I anticipate a month before we can begin testing the cabinet with its pair."

All of this was only half true. Rosalie's woodworking tools had sped the process greatly. They could be done carving in a week. But Draco wanted time to plan the sabotage of the cabinet. And he wanted to delay any attack on Hogwarts so that the Order of the Pheonix had time to help and they could plan to move the students if necessary.

He worried that a month would be too much time and that the Dark Lord would be displeased, but to his relief, a smile spread across his face. "Creating an entire panel in a month?" he asked. "With no tools? Lucius, your son is more talented and devoted than you spoke of."

Behind him, Draco heard his father's voice and almost collapsed from relief. "Thank you, my Lord."

He sounded fine. He didn't sound pained. He sounded healthy. Thank Merlin.

"Everyone," the Dark Lord said, "Leave us alone, please. Bellatrix, please stay. And Lucius, Narcissa, feel free to stay outside, by the doors. I will send Draco out to see you before he returns to Hogwarts."

Draco stayed facing forward as people left the room. He couldn't show it, but he was relieved. His parents were there. They were alive. Thank Merlin.

His aunt Bellatrix did not give him much attention. She was completely, fanatically enraptured by the Dark Lord. She stared at him with unwavering adoration as he stood up on his throne and peered down at Draco. He was ugly beyond belief. Red pupils, grey-green eyes. No hair – not even eyebrows. And his skin was leathery. Not quite snakelike, but definitely batlike.

This would be Draco's first time alone with the Dark Lord. Though he had lived with them in this house last summer before Draco had returned to Hogwarts, his mother had never let him be alone. Now, here he was. However, he felt confident he would emerge mostly unscathed. After all, he was fixing the vanishing cabinet at Hogwarts.

"How has your school year been, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked. "You're doing well in your classes, your mother tells me."

"Yes, my lord."

"Are you top of your year?"

A little bit of old jealousy bubbled to the surface, but he noted with some interest that it didn't sting as much. Before he and Granger had been friends, it had felt that he was on the losing side. Now that they got along, he didn't mind being second in their year as much. "No, my lord."

"Who is?"

"That Mudblood Granger, my lord."

And for the first time, his skin crawled. His feelings fought his instincts. "It's not right to talk about her that way," a little voice said that sounded nothing like the flamboyant announcer he had once listened to. "She couldn't control where she was born!"

"We can decide what to feel about that later," he told himself. "The most important thing is not being found out to be a traitor."

"Ah," the Dark Lord said. "I know her. She… got in the way at a recent attack we did. I regret to say that Bellatrix was unable to finish her off." He looked at Draco and Draco felt probing, soft as the fingers of death itself, across his occlumency shields. He forced himself to breathe at normal intervals. One inhale every eight seconds.

Bellatrix whined like a dog whose toy had been taken. "My lord," she said. "You know how I love to make them scream."

One… two… three… four…. One… two… three… four….

Draco considered for half a second only of telling the Dark Lord that Hermione and Harry were dating. He knew the Dark Lord would consider it vital information. But Draco could not justify the target the information would paint on Hermione's head. Each of the Death Eaters would target her, and if they caught her, it would be slow murder and brutal mind games for Harry. Even if it could afford Draco a little extra safety and security, the risk would be too much for his friends.

The Dark Lord smiled at Bellatrix. "Well, if you had finished her off, then Draco might be top of his year. And Harry Potter would be down a loyal protector. She has saved his skin often, from what I've been told." He twirled Draco's father's wand around his fingertips. "Though, until then, we have plenty of paupers you can play with."

He made a gesture down a hall that was usually used to supply small meeting rooms for people to have a smoke in away from the ballroom and began to walk towards it. Draco readied his stomach as he followed. Bellatrix also stalked along beside them. His aunt's grin was absolutely feral and demonic.

They did not go down the hall, for which Draco was grateful. For he could see that bars had been erected in place of the doors and people were inside these small rooms that had previously been used for striking deals and offering bribes. And the bars continued for quite a ways down the hall. In the nearest one on the left, he could see a woman who looked desperately thirsty, looking up at them and tapping three fingers on her chin in a W shape. On the left was the remains of a small family. A mother and a father and the body of a tiny girl, who they wept over as they stroked her hair. She looked no older than six.

"Muggles, my lord?" Draco asked.

"Naturally. They're where they belong," the Dark Lord said. "That little one held out for quite a long time before you arrived. But we put her out of her misery to let you in early."

Draco was glad he had prepared his stomach. He tried to tell himself that he was not the cause of death of this little girl. He had only been showing up for an appointment.

"You haven't yet had your first murder, have you, Draco?" the Dark Lord asked.

Draco did not like where this was going. "I have not, my lord," he said, and was glad that his voice came out sounding natural.

"Well," the Dark Lord laughed. "Complete this mission, and I will save someone special for you. Very special indeed. I think that if we successfully take Hogwarts, you, Draco, should be the one to kill Dumbledore."

Draco immediately sank to his knees in another bow. His stomach, still feeling half its size, was churning. "It would be my honour," he said.

The Dark Lord chuckled. "Get up, Draco. I need to tell you another mission I have, while you are at Hogwarts. It is a simple one, and I expect an owl before tomorrow morning."

"Anything, my lord, name it," Draco said. He tried to make his tone urgent and hasty.

The Dark Lord studied him. "You grovel well. Draco, in the room where the cabinet is hidden is a diadem. Are you aware of what a diadem is?"

"A… sort of crown? My lord?"

Voldemort nodded and put an arm around Draco's shoulders, like some sort of touchy uncle. "A circlet worn like a crown or tiara, yes. This one has a blue sapphire in it. I would like for you to find it and write to tell me what condition it is in. That is all."

Draco happened to know exactly where the diadem was and what condition it was in. But he didn't say that. "I'll be sure to find it, my lord. I'll hunt all night if I have to."

"You're much more devoted than Ms. Parkinson. She was unable to find it. I trust you won't let me down?"

Draco's heart skipped a beat. "No, my lord," he agreed. "I'll find it."

"Good, good. Do not move it when you find it. Simply tell me of its surroundings."

"Yes, my lord."

They began to move away from the hallway. Draco wished there was something he could do for them without ruining his cover. He wished for a moment that he was Harry, because Harry always seemed to be able to run in, do something that literally no one else would have been able to accomplish, and then run back out. And even Harry had acknowledged that it was not normal to be able to do that. Good defence against the dark arts skills only did so much. Harry had what Rosalie had called "protagonist energy" or, as Hermione had put it, "dumb luck as a superpower".

Even at Privet Drive, he'd come back without a wound. Hermione had had Mudblood carved into her arm. Their friend Ron had been knocked aside. Rosalie had endured the Cruciatus. That thought turned his stomach.

"We will not keep you much longer," Voldemort said, "But Bellatrix has one place to take you before you return to Hogwarts. She will return you to the school's borders after your excursion. And it will be fast – I look forward to your morning owl."

"Yes, my lord. Thank you, my lord."

Bellatrix walked ahead and opened the door out of the ballroom ahead of them. Voldemort finally removed his arm from around Draco's shoulders. Outside the door, his parents waited anxiously. His mother immediately wrapped him in her arms, pulling him out of the room and into her shoulder. Draco took a deep breath of her and squeezed. She smelled like cedarwood and expensive hair care. Oh, he had missed his mother.

The door closed to the ballroom. Bellatrix moved behind them to Snape, who stood by the doors, waiting. After a brief conversation, he left, and Draco heard the snap of his cape in motion as he strode to the front entrance and left.

His father, now that the Dark Lord was gone, slowly wrapped his arms around the both of them. Draco heard him exhale in a little bit of premature relief. "It's good to have you home," he whispered softly.

I don't like what you've done with the place, Draco thought. But he kept his mouth shut because he still had to make it out here alive.

His mother let him go and looked him over. "Oh, you're taller. We'll need to get your robes fixed. Are your shoes still fitting? Hair's longer… are you putting on a bit of weight?"

"Fine, mum," Draco said. "I can get all those things done. Not a problem."

She put a slicked piece of hair into place. "How're classes? She whispered. Are you almost ready for your OWLs?"

"Yeah, I think I'll do really well. Honestly."

"Good." She hesitated. "And… the cabinet?"

"Not a problem, mom. Rosalie is helping me with it."

"Rosalie? Your girlfriend?"

"She's a genius, mum. An actual one. The Sorting Hat said so in front of everyone. You'll like her when I finally bring her to meet you both."

He wondered if Rosalie would like his mother. Narcissa did not always have a pleasant expression on her face and was prejudiced and unwilling to branch out to other areas of society, but she was kind to other purebloods and respectful and had always been a support to him.

"Well, we'd love to meet her," Father said. "Perhaps, when summer comes, we can invite her family to visit."

"I believe her family is still in America," Draco replied, though he realised he did not know for sure. "She doesn't talk about them very much. I don't see her write owls…" Could owls even go that distance? How far was America? Rosalie had said it could not be apparated to… but hardly any wizards could make the jump to Germany from England. Was America terribly farther than Germany?

"I've never met any American purebloods…" Father said slowly. "Are they terribly different from British purebloods?"

Draco hesitated to reply. He knew his parents would not take kindly to Rosalie's lack of bigotry, and neither would Bellatrix or the other lingering Death Eaters. A fight could break out, Draco could be accused of gaining sympathy. "I can't tell," he said. "But Rosalie is remarkable. She can do very large calculations in her head and she can create spells and is very, very good at potions."

"Good, good," Mum said softly. She brushed imaginary lint off his shoulders and examined his face carefully for any imaginary hurts. "How are your other friends? Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy?"

"They seem to be doing well, mum." Never mind that he hadn't spoken to either in ages. "Goyle's doing a Gobstones club nowadays."

"Right," Father said. "Well, when summer comes, let's rent a venue and have all your friends over for tea. Be nice to see everyone again."

In his head, Draco began a countdown timer, though it did not have any particular date it was counting down to. He just suddenly knew that at some point in the summer, he'd be discovered as a traitor. He had no idea if Pansy had written any letters about his being friendly with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. If she had, he hadn't been questioned on it. If he was questioned on it, would the ruse of attempting to gather information be enough? Or studying for OWLs?

What would he do after everyone knew? Where would he live? He would have no money… unless he began pulling copious amounts out now.

Maybe that would be a good idea. He was glad he'd thought of it.

Perhaps he and Harry could stay together somewhere. After all, Harry's family was moving away.

It also occurred to him that Lucius would probably not like Rosalie, when he met her. She would likely call him an idiot for opening up his home to the Dark Lord and losing control in such a total, spectacular fashion.

And Rosalie had very firmly put him in his place for simply saying that Purebloods were better than Muggle-borns. If she heard either of his parents were holding Muggles to be tortured and murdered, she would blow up harder than one of Longbottom's old cauldrons and leave an even worse mess behind.

No, this summer gathering, if it happened, was bound to be catastrophic. And Draco suddenly did not have much hope for the success of any future meeting between his parents and Rosalie unless a.) he could warm Rosalie up to the concept of blood purity or b.) he could warm his parents up to the idea that Muggles were people who also deserved to roam the earth untethered. Each idea seemed equally unlikely, true, but Draco was friends with Harry Potter now, and that had been the biggest longshot of his life.

His aunt finally grew impatient and came over to hover at his shoulder. "Come on, Draco," She teased with a smile. "Places to go, people to hear screaming…"

"Where are you taking him, Bella?" Mum's voice was sharp – Draco wondered if a fight would break out if Bellatrix didn't say.

"Just to Gringotts," Aunt Bellatrix said. "The Dark Lord wishes for me to show Draco something."

Draco's heartbeats seemed to come twice as hard suddenly. "Gringotts?" he asked. "Well, maybe I'll pull a little money out to get my robes fixed while we're there."

"We won't be going to your vaults," Aunt Bellatrix said. "We'll be going to mine. We won't have time for yours, what with your special mission needing to be complete by sunrise."

"I'm sure it won't take me very long to find what he's looking for," Draco said. It was almost a little fun to think he wouldn't be going to the Room of Requirement at all tonight. Instead, he'd go to the Owlery, write a short note making something up, and ask the owl to wait an hour or two before taking off so that it didn't seem too suspicious.

Of course, he had never seen the diadem within the room, but he could make up a story about the surroundings and the Dark Lord would assume someone had moved it.

"You shouldn't be so confident," Aunt Bellatrix said. Her tone was not as sing-songy, as if she were genuinely a little worried for Draco. "Ms. Parkinson looked for a month."

Draco nodded at the warning and turned to look at his parents again. "How are you both?" he asked. "You look… unkempt."

Lucius looked more thin and gaunt than before. And the absence of his wand… Draco wondered if the Dark Lord was still punishing him for abandoning his diary three years ago. He had endured the Cruciatus several times before Draco had left for school, though, always seemed to bounce back. Now, he seemed too stiff and too wary.

Narcissa was as thin and severe-expressioned as ever, but her palour was less pale and more grey than he was used to seeing. Was she ill?

But his mum raised his eyebrows – the closest she would go to a smile – and touched his cheek. "Life is different," she said. "Do what the Dark Lord tells you, Draco. Be loyal, and everything will be okay."

Loyalty. An odd quality to demand from someone posing as an ambitious Slytherin.

Aunt Bellatrix put a hand on his shoulder. "Come along, Draco." She said. Draco ignored her and hugged both his parents again. He wanted to say something such as "Be Safe", but felt that would be showing distrust in the Dark Lord, or perhaps would imply they had done something that jeopardised their worth.

They marched quickly to the property line to disapparate. Draco felt a small headache from all he was doing internally. Keeping his expression perfectly still, his occlumency shields strong, resisting his churning stomach, his fear, and his worrying about things completely out of his control. Bellatrix was in a joyful mood. She held her arm out and Draco looped his through.

They disapparated mid-step and continued walking up the steps of Gringotts bank without a stumble. It was pitch black and a single light lit the door of the bank. The door creaked open automatically as they walked in. Inside, the usually busy stalls were quiet and abandoned. A single goblin night teller occupied the littlest desk at the end of the room. He examined their approach with a sneer.

"Lestrange Vaults," Bellatrix said, withdrawing a key from around her neck. "Fast."

The teller reached out for the key and quickly examined it, still around Bellatrix's neck. "Of course," he said. His voice had that nails-on-a-chalkboard quality. He released the key and hopped off his stool before strolling towards the vaults entrance himself, where a single cart waited. At the far end of the hall, there came a grinding sound. A massive stone lock was spinning and drawing a pillar the circumference of Harry's fat cousin Dudley across the width of the door, preventing it from being opened.

They were sealed in, but Draco wasn't worried. It was probably a normal after-hours procedure. The boom of the pillar clicking into place did make him shake a little, though.

They climbed into the cart. Draco realised he'd been far too quiet. "I hate these blasted carts," he muttered under his breath.

The goblin sneered at him as he walked past them and climbed into the front of the cart. Aunt Bellatrix giggled.

They took off at a neck-breaking speed. Draco scrunched his neck into his shoulders to prevent it from jostling back and forth. Freezing air snuck into his robes and he wished he were wearing his muggle pajamas underneath. Soon, he thought, he'd be back to Hogwarts. Underneath the left side of the cart, a wheel squealed. Hopefully, it wouldn't fly off.

Soon, they would be at the Lestrange vaults. Draco could sense the priceless opportunity at hand. If Helga Hufflepuff's cup were really here, as Rosalie suspected it was, he might see it. He might be able to ask about it. Or, if he were as filthy stinking lucky as he was rich(assuming the Dark Lord had not depleted his family vaults), then he might even be able to sneak it away and steal it.

The cart screeched to a halt and Draco was nearly thrown from it. The goblin got out the front. "Lestrange vaults," he said, nonchalantly. Aunt Bellatrix hopped out.

The cart teetered on the edge of a cliff. In the distance, Draco could hear a dragon's low roar. He shivered and stood. The cart wobbled and Draco realised there was no earth underneath the tracks. He had to jump to get to safety.

He stood in the cart for a moment, taking deep breaths, and then bent his knees and leapt. As he jumped, he looked through the gap between cart and ground. It was a long way down. Then he landed, safely, on the other side.

The goblin was already opening the vault. The door clinked and whirred as it opened and a very large pile of gold came into view. Heaps and piles of it. But both Draco and Bellatrix were jaded to the view, and they walked past it without care.

"If I were to die," Bellatrix said, "My vaults are set to be inherited by my husband. And if he dies, then they would return to my next of kin. Your mother."

Also in the vault were old family treasures and portraits. None of them Draco recognised. He saw many cups and goblets. None of them resembled Hufflepuff's. There was silver armour, the skins of strange creatures — some with long spines, others with drooping wings — potions in jewelled flasks, and a skull still wearing a crown.

"The Dark Lord has entrusted me with one of his treasures," Bellatrix said in a hushed, reverent tone. Draco's head snapped up. They were coming around a pile bigger than the rest. A large treasure chest was buried in it. Still, no cup. "As you know, he had no vault here because the goblins will not make him one. Such a pity. But he had trusted me to leave it safe here, in the vault."

She paused and pointed up, up, to a cup set on top of a very old wardrobe, at the top of another very tall stack of treasure. Draco had the good sense to act confused, even as his heart sped up. "A…" He looked around at the surrounding treasure quickly. "Wardrobe?"

"The cup on top of it," Bellatrix said. "See it now?"

Draco nodded. "Seems rather unassuming," he said.

"We do not question the Dark Lord, Draco! It is a most important task he has given us." Bellatrix looked at the cup with wondering adoration and Draco did not miss the way she said "us".

"So, why did the Dark Lord have you show me?" He asked, slowly as he dared.

"Because, Draco, after the dismal performance your father gave of taking care of the Dark Lord's book, he cannot be trusted with the cup." Aunt Bellatrix took his arm and began to pull him to the exit. Draco hesitated. The cup was so close… if he had but a moment, he could transfigure the paperclip port key in his pocket into a cup and switch them.

Or if he could only reach it, Hermione had said the portkey would activate if he needed it. He could run and grab it and be gone. Maybe before Bellatrix had time to utter a single spell.

But it would blow his cover, he knew. And his parents would be severely punished. Maybe even killed. And the plan to sabotage the Death Eaters would fail. And Draco wouldn't be able to see the Dark Lord's demise.

So he turned and let Aunt Bellatrix lead him away. "If the vaults pass into your parent's hands, then you will ensure they do not move or sell the cup. It must never leave the vaults," Bellatrix said. "Do you understand?"

"Absolutely," Draco said. "I won't let the Dark Lord down." The goblin closed the doors behind them. If he was irritated about coming all this way to have them grab nothing, he didn't show it. They all leaped back into the cart without much fanfare, and the rickety thing started back up at a steep pace.

Draco looked back at the doors right before they went out of sight. They weren't on the face of a cliff so much as an overhang. He could see the bottom. It was a flat, hard surface maybe seventy feet down. The tracks continued off into the darkness. Another dull dragon roar echoed around them.

How could anyone break in or out of here?

They made it to the top and dismounted. As they entered the lobby, the giant stone lock began turning and another late-night person came in, hidden under a cloak. Neither Aunt Bellatrix nor Draco paid them any mind as they headed out into the night.

Bellatrix looked up and down the street as they emerged. "No aurors?" she asked, and sniffed. "When I came before to check on the cup, there were aurors outside to meet me. Perhaps they don't care anymore."

She withdrew her wand and Draco added another count of "crime accomplice" to his mental resume. Always good to be prepared – you never know what qualifications you may need one day. She waved it and a nearby shop window exploded outwards. Then the next. Then the next. Down the street they walked, with his aunt sometimes blowing out glass and sometimes blowing up rooms. It was clear she was not really putting her heart in it. She still had to get him to Hogwarts.

When Aunt Bellatrix flung a spell at a peculiar building with a recent SOLD sign on the door, the spell bounced back. She hummed and tilted her head to read the building permit, which had been stuck in the ground. "Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes," she drawled. "I'll have to pay them a special visit when I've got more time!" She blew out the windows of one final store and then pocketed her wand. "Come on, Draco!" she said. "Let's get a move on."

Draco extended his arm, exactly the way he would to Rosalie. Then they were swooshing through time and space, being squeezed through a pipe. And then he was outside the wards, looking up at the castle. "Better get a move on!" Bellatrix said. "It's ten-o-three now. Only a few hours before sunrise." She patted him on the shoulder. "Be good!"

Draco looked up at the castle and set foot over the wards. Once he was over, he heard the crack of his aunt's disapparation behind him. He was safe. The feeling overwhelmed him for a moment and he keeled over, putting his hands on his knees. Everything seemed to come rushing back so quickly. The uncleanliness of his home. The appearances of his parents. That poor, tiny dead girl. The woman begging for water. The parents in the cell with the corpse of their tiny daughter.

He gasped for breath for a few seconds and found his eyes were wet. That wouldn't do – he had a letter to write. He needed to report back to Rosalie that he was fine and no harm had come to him. He needed to tell her that she had been right and that Hufflepuff's cup was in Gringotts. And they'd have to rob it – unless…

He caught his breath staring at the ground. The grass came into and out of focus. But he latched onto the thought he'd just had.

Technically, they wouldn't need to rob the vaults. They just needed to kill the Lestranges first. Then, the cup would automatically become his mother's. And by extension, his. He could remove it with his own Gringotts key.

Did he want to kill his aunt? Not personally. Would the world be a better place without her?

Bloody hell, when had he started thinking like that?

Having come back from hyperventilating, Draco righted himself and set off on a walk up to the castle doors. He supposed Gryffindor would be the closest common room aside from Ravenclaw and the easier to get into between the two. The password was currently "Yorkshire Pudding".

He focused on getting up the stairs and soon came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady, who frowned in disapproval at letting him in again, but swung open to let him in anyways. Fred and George Weasley were in the common room, arranging kits of Dungeons and Dragons that they'd retitled "Mages and Mayhem". Not bad.

Harry was waiting in the doorway to the Gryffindor common room. He looked deathly pale and a little angry. That made Draco stop. "Has something happened?" he asked.

"No," Harry replied. "Nothing's happened. I just… come on in."

He held the door open. Godric Gryffindor's room was still sparse on furniture. Draco doubted Dumbledore would allow them to have beds in here while they were still students. McGonagall either.

"I found out a few things," Draco said, crossing to the other side of the room. "I've got a lot to tell you."

He was surprised to hear his own voice echoing from the speakers. "Tell you… tell you…" the sound turned into a dull screech, but not before Draco had heard himself repeat it back four times. Hermione jumped up from the centre table, where they'd been sitting, and ran to Rosalie's laptop. She clicked a button and the screech went away.

Hermione looked the most composed out of all of them. She was dressed in her pyjamas and had most of her curls on her left side shaped for bed. Harry, behind him, looked angry and sick. And Rosalie was lying on the floor, on her side, staring at the wall. Her brown hair was plaited back. A box of tissues lay nearby, and a trash can a quarter filled with used ones.

"We already know, Draco," Hermione said, returning to the table, where a long list of notes laid. "I didn't have time to explain it properly, but we planted a bug on you. We heard everything."

The next chapter will be called The Ring and the Shoe.