Malfoy didn’t waste time basking in his glory. Pocketing the key, he looked around for Mark, who was standing, looking shaken, staring at the remains of the cave.
“Haugen, let’s go.”
Mark looked up. “You promised to hide me.”
“Er, right.” Quickly Malfoy ran through a list of possibilities in his mind. The only thing he could come up with that would work was his own house. It would work well enough.
“Okay, grab my arm. We’re leaving.”
Mark grasped Malfoy’s arm and they Apparated away, materializing in Malfoy’s attic. “What is this place?” asked Mark, stepping away from Malfoy.
“That’s not important. Just know that it will suffice for your needs.”
Mark eyed him suspiciously. “Fine.”
“You may want to put a few enchantments around, just to make sure. And don’t leave this room,” Malfoy warned. If Mark ran into Narcissa, things could get ugly in a hurry. “Now, will you be okay?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Good. Obliviate!”
Mark’s eyes glazed over dully. Malfoy grimaced. He hated to do it, but he didn’t want Mark to betray him and go to Voldemort.
“Where…where am I?” asked Mark, sounding dazed.
“You’re in hiding,” said Malfoy shortly, “and you’re not to leave this room until I come back for you, got it?”
“Right,” replied Mark, swaying a bit.
“Okay.” Malfoy stepped out of the attic, hoping Mark would be okay.
Where to go from here? thought Malfoy, patting the key, which was still sitting safely in his pocket. He needed to see Potter, and as soon as possible, but he didn’t know where Potter was. Of course, it was fairly safe to assume that Potter and all the others were at their secret hiding place, but if they were, Malfoy couldn’t reach them.
He’d need to owl them, and hope they could get together soon. There was nothing more he could do.
So he Apparated to Diagon Alley. Once he had secured a room in the Leaky Cauldron under the name Neville Barker, he asked Tom for an owl. The owl, which was called Ergon, was skinny and bedraggled, but Tom assured Malfoy that he was up to the long journey.
Malfoy hastily scribbled a note:
Potter and others,
I have the key. We need to meet as soon as possible. Come to Diagon Alley tomorrow. I’ll meet you in front of the old Ollivander’s shop at noon.
Malfoy
He tied the note to Ergon’s leg, then pushed Ergon out the window. He watched the owl until it was only a black speck in the sky, then lay back on the bed.
So much had happened in the last few weeks. It was so unreal. Just a month ago, Malfoy had been at the top of the Death Eater food chain…what had gone wrong? Why had he had to develop a conscience, something basically forbidden in Death Eater ranks? What had he gained.
The truth was, he hadn’t gained much. But deep down, Malfoy knew that when this was all over, he would be ahead. Potter would kill Voldemort with or without him-but since Malfoy was now a so-called “good guy,” he would be safe from Azkaban. Hopefully.
But getting out of Azkaban wasn’t the only reason Malfoy was helping Potter. Was it? No, it couldn’t be. Malfoy had changed, that was it. He wasn’t sure if he approved of this new Draco, but it seemed he was here to stay, like it or not.
Sighing, Malfoy rolled onto his side and shut his eyes. He was exhausted, and fell asleep in mere seconds.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Potter, Granger, and the three Weasleys were sitting around Grimmauld Place lazily, drinking butterbeer and engaging in various activities. Potter and Weasley were playing chess, and Granger was carefully playing Exploding Snap. Ginny was watching the games with amusement. They were having fun, but all of them were on edge.
Ergon smashed into the window, making all of them jump. Granger got to her feet and hurriedly let the owl in, her hand shaking slightly. “That scared me,” she breathed, deftly untying the letter from Ergon’s scaly leg.
Potter bounded over, bumping Granger’s card castle on the way. It exploded; Ginny shrieked and shielded herself with her arms.
Potter grabbed the letter and unrolled it. “It’s from Malfoy,” he said, skimming it quickly. “He…got the key! This is amazing!”
“Let me see that,” said Granger, grabbing the note back. She read it and let out a whoop. “He really did!”
“So, we’re supposed to meet him tomorrow at Ollivander’s.” Potter paused. “What if this is a trap?”
Silence settled over the room. “Well,” said Granger, after an awkward few seconds, “it could be, but we should still go check it out. One of us could disguise ourselves and see if Malfoy’s there.”
“Okay,” agreed Potter. “All the same, I have a feeling this is for real.”
Ginny sat up excitedly, then winced. “I’ll disguise myself,” she said eagerly.
“No,” said Potter firmly. “You’re not going, Ginny. If it’s a trap, it could be too dangerous.”
“It is not too dangerous!” Ginny’s temper was flaring now. “I’m fine! I want to go!”
“Ginny, you can’t even sit up without hurting your head!” That was Weasley, jumping in on the fight. “You’re not coming, and that’s final.”
Fuming, Ginny lay back down. “I’m fine.”
Bill entered the room, having heard the entire fight from the kitchen. “The doctor said a week, Gin,” he said gently but firmly. “Like Ron said, that’s final. I’ll stay here with you.”
Ginny folded her arms across her chest. “Fine.” Her voice was sulky.
Potter pocketed the note. “That’s that, then. We’ll meet him there.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The next day at noon, Potter, Weasley, and Granger left behind Bill and a sullen Ginny for Diagon Alley. Once they Apparated there, they navigated through the busy streets until Ollivander’s was in view.
“Okay,” said Granger, putting out her arms to stop the boys. She had enchanted her hair-it was a vibrant shade of red and wildly curly. She looked like Ginny on a bad hair day. “Let me go check it out.”
Potter and Weasley hung back as Granger went ahead. She looked around a few times. “Look,” hissed Weasley. “There’s Malfoy.”
Potter had spotted Malfoy, too. “So it’s really him,” he muttered. “Good.”
“Not so fast,” replied Weasley. “He could be working for the Death Eaters.”
“Maybe,” said Potter. “But somehow, I don’t think so.” He started forward, and then sped up when Granger beckoned him over.
Potter and Weasley made their way over to where Malfoy and Granger were standing. “Where’s the key?” asked Potter eagerly.
Looking around warily, Malfoy dug into his pocket and pulled out a silver key. He held it for a moment, then stuffed it back in his pocket before anybody else could get a glimpse of it. “I say we should probably go to the trapdoor as soon as possible. Like, now.”
Potter studied Malfoy’s face. “Now?” he asked. “But…anything could be waiting for us there. Shouldn’t we…prepare somehow?”
“Listen, I know what’s waiting.” He didn’t let Potter cut in to say anything. “Well, I don’t know exactly. Have any of you ever heard of the spell ‘Abrogus’?”
Potter and Weasley shook their heads. Granger concentrated hard, thinking. “It’s…a very difficult spell to do,” she said at last. “To do properly, at least. And it’s completely drastic. But…” she rubbed her temples. “I can’t remember what it does!”
“Creates some sort of mist,” said Malfoy. “A shimmery mist. The mist is right above the trapdoor. There’s no way you’ll be able to get through the door without going through the mist. But I don’t know what the mist does.”
“Hmm,” mused Potter. “It probably doesn’t kill,” he said, recalling what Dumbledore had told him when they went searching for the Horcrux in his sixth year. “We can be fairly sure of that. But it could do anything, pretty much…”
The group was silent for a bit, then Malfoy spoke up.
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take, I suppose. I…I’m not safe at all.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Death Eaters could be upon me at any moment, so we’re going to have to move if we want to accomplish anything.”
“Okay,” said Potter decisively. “Then we’re going. Now.”
“Harry!” admonished Granger, grabbing his shoulder. “We can’t go now. We’re unprepared! Anything could be waiting for us…even Voldemort himself! At the very least we need to find out what the mist is going to do.”
“No. Hermione, we can’t waste any more time!” said Potter. “If you don’t want to come, then fine. But I’m going…right now.”
Granger crossed her arms. “This is a stupid move…” she warned.
“But waiting is also stupid,” said Malfoy seriously. “We need to get over there and get rid of this pesky Horcrux so we can kill Voldemort once and for all.”
“Fine,” muttered Hermione after a few minutes. “I guess you’ve got a point. So we’re all going to Snape’s house, then?”
“I’ll go back to Grimmauld Place to tell Bill and Ginny what you guys are doing,” volunteered Weasley.
“Fine. But the rest of us are going,” said Potter firmly. “Hermione, grab my arm and we’ll leave.”
Then the four people disappeared.
Potter and Granger landed in a tangled-up heap on Snape’s front lawn. Quickly they got to their feet and scrambled over to the window. The house was dark. “D’you think it’s empty?” whispered Potter.
A hand landed on his shoulder, and he jumped to his feet, startled. But it was only Malfoy.
“Malfoy! You scared me!” hissed Potter. “Do you think Snape’s home?”
Malfoy shook his head. “Not likely. He’s probably at the Riddle mansion, or somewhere else doing Voldemort’s bidding.”
“Okay, good. Let’s Apparate inside, then. Oh-wait! Do you think anybody is, like, guarding the Horcrux?”
“No, the mist is enough,” said Malfoy. “Whatever it is.”
“That’s not making me feel any better,” said Potter. “But we have to go, anyway. Everybody Apparate inside.”
The three of them disappeared and then materialized inside. “Okay,” whispered Malfoy, leading the way. “The cellar’s over here.”
They walked cautiously through the house until they reached the cellar, when they stood around the door, hesitant to enter.
“Oh, jeez. Let’s just get this over with,” said Potter, wrenching open the door. He stopped when he saw the silvery mist. “Uh…”
Granger pushed him forward, not unkindly. “Go. Just close your eyes and slip through,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Potter stopped in his tracks. “No!” he said loudly. “Don’t come through the mist. Come into the cellar, if you must, but stay away from the mist. We don’t know what it does, and until we do, we should keep as many people intact as we can.” He paused. “So I’m the only person going in. If either of you follows me, I’ll hex you into the next century.”
“Don’t worry about that,” said Malfoy. “I’ll keep my distance from that mist.”
Potter sat down, dangling his legs over the side of the cellar, then jumped in. He landed solidly on his feet, then looked back up at Malfoy and Granger. “Come on down,” he called, “but keep away from the mist!”
They jumped in, flattening themselves against the grimy wall so they wouldn’t even graze the silvery substance.
Potter turned to Malfoy. “The key.”
Malfoy dug the key out of his pocket and handed it to Potter. “Good luck,” he said.
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” said Potter breezily, trying to mask his anxiety. “I’ll be fine.” Then, holding the key firmly in his hand, he took a step into the mist.
He shuddered upon contact: he couldn’t exactly feel it, but it was freezing cold. It reminded him of a dementor’s presence; it felt like something was being drained out of him.
Though Potter’s instinct was to run the other way, he forced himself to take another step. He dropped down on all fours near the trapdoor. Here the mist was so thick that he could hardly see the lock. He felt around for it, and then located it. He jammed the key in.
Potter turned the key, then pulled. The trapdoor eased up slowly, creaking.
He glanced back at Granger and Malfoy one more time, then jumped into the black pit.
He didn’t fall far. He landed with a soft thump just a few seconds later, not hurt. He was still freezing cold from the mist, and he felt a bit odd. He didn’t know the full effects of it yet; he’d just have to wait and see what would happen.
And then-there was the Sorting Hat, sitting on a stool in the middle of the small, round chamber. Heart pounding, Potter went over to it and picked it up.
The Sorting Hat…would it talk to him now, or was it devoid of life? Had Voldemort…killed it, so to speak, or was the all-knowing little voice still somewhere in there?
He turned it over fondly. It would be horrible to destroy it, but…he had no choice.
Potter glanced down at the hat once more, raising his wand…and then dropped his wand, shocked, his jaw hanging down.
Staring at him from the inside of the upside-down hat was Dumbledore’s face.