Malfoy was startled by the cries of battle which seemed to be coming from every direction. He found himself standing on what appeared to be the ramparts of the castle sometime around midnight, though from the flashes of the skirmish below he could easily make out his surroundings. The mark on his arm burned slightly, a sensation he had not felt since . . . Malfoy immediately turned his eyes skyward, only to see the dark mark hovering high above the castle giving off a sickly green glow and illuminating the grounds of Hogwarts. Glancing down at the ground, he recognized many of the Death Eaters as they clashed with professors and several ragged Aurors. Enthralled by the struggle below, he hardly noticed the slender form of Nagini slithering between his feet.
“Eager to join the fight Draco?”
At these words Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and knowing who was behind him, he stood frozen in fear.
“Have you forgotten your manners young Malfoy. Bow to your master.” The words cut through the sounds of battle like a knife. At the sound of Lord Voldemort’s command, Draco found himself spun around and thrown to his knees by an invisible force.
“L-L-Lord Voldemort . . . I was not expecting . . . what is happening?” All of the haughtiness drained from Malfoy’s voice, and he could only stammer.
“It is time for you to complete your mission. Do you not see your mortal enemy lying beaten before you?”
Even in his fear, Malfoy was puzzled by Voldemort’s words, but before could regain his composure he heard the soft wheezing behind him. He turned to see Dumbledore slumped against the side of the rampart, disarmed and battered. Confusion once again spread over Malfoy’s features. How could it be that Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of his time, was at this moment so vulnerable? He did not have long to ponder though, because he immediately felt himself being drawn to his feet by his master.
“It is time to fulfill your vow to me Draco. Complete the task which I have set before you.”
Draco turned weakly to face Voldemort, but standing where the Dark Lord had been moments before were his parents. Where did they come from?
“Father, how did you escape“”
“Finish your mission Son. Your master will not ask again.”
Suddenly remembering what he must do, Draco turned and leveled his wand at Dumbledore. The old man slowly raised his head to face Malfoy. There was no fear in the headmaster’s eyes, only a deep calm that surprised the young wizard. He felt the underlying sense of excitement and panic drain away, swallowed by the tranquility Dumbledore exuded in the face of death. You are no murderer Draco. Even without words, he could clearly read Dumbledore’s expression. His wand began to shake uncontrollably in his hand, and for a long moment he wavered on the edge of decision.
CRASH!
Draco was jolted awake by the sound of something breaking behind him. He turned to see Peeves bent over in laughter floating just below the ceiling.
“Did Peevsie wake poor Malfoy?” Peeves taunted.
Malfoy instantly drew his wand and aimed a disarming spell at Peeves. The poltergeist vanished, but not before he flashed one of his signature grins.
Malfoy slowly came to his feet, rubbing his temples at the first sign of a throbbing headache. He had not realized just how tired he had been when he sat down, and judging by the silence of the hallway outside and the weak glow from the last embers of the fire he thought it must be just before dawn. He knew if he hurried, there would still be time to make it back to the dungeon before anyone missed him. He made his way to the door and after a quick peak outside to check if the coast was clear, Malfoy slipped out into the hallway.
· · · · ·
For the next several weeks, Malfoy went about his normal life, ignoring the events of his night spent in the Room of Requirements. For the first time in months, he was able to make it through entire nights without waking soaked to the bone in sweat shaking from the latest night terror. It was easy not to think about Voldemort and the mission with the winter holiday on the horizon, though as November turned into December a sense of urgency returned, and Malfoy was haunted by nightmares again. He resolved to visit the room once more, if only to put his mind at ease and keep terror at bay for a while longer.
· · · · ·
Malfoy waited until he could hear Crabbe and Goyle snoring before he dared sneak from the dormitory. Slipping into his warmest robes, he snuck out of the dungeon and past the great hall on his way to the seventh floor. The hallways of Hogwarts had always been dark and foreboding at night. Now coupled with the dread and urgency that Malfoy already felt, the atmosphere was oppressive. Only once did Malfoy encounter an obstacle. As he rounded the fourth floor staircase he skidded to a halt. At the top of the staircase Mrs. Norris stood frozen in place blocking his way. Her glowing eyes were pinned on him. His instinct told him to run past her and try to make it to the seventh floor before she could attract the attention of Filch. His worst fears were realized as he saw light from the caretaker’s lamp glistening on the stone walls further down the hall. He was caught. Malfoy desperately tried to work out how he would get out of his predicament. How would he be able to explain why he was out in the halls at night?
Filch had proven himself immune to idle threats, and the only students who had ever foiled him had been the filthy Weasley twins. Malfoy had all but resigned himself to the detention that he was sure would come when his hand brushed up against something in his pocket, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. He had forgotten to remove it after his last excursion to the joke shop. It was instantly clear that he could use it to blind the caretaker if only for a moment. The only worry was that it would not have any effect on Mrs. Norris and her luminescent eyes, but it was a chance he would have to take.
“What have you found here my sweet?” Filch called as he rounded the corner. He raised his lamp to get a better look at the dark figure looming over Mrs. Norris, but before he could focus, the light went out.
Malfoy knew the second he doused the hall in powder that it had worked. He could hear Mrs. Norris hissing menacingly as he tore down the hall. Malfoy cursed his ignorance at forgetting to bring his Hand of Glory, but he knew the hallway well enough in the dark to not run into anything as he made his escape. Caught up in the excitement of foiling Filch, Malfoy almost found himself forgiving the Weasley twins for being muggle-loving blood traitors.
By the time he made it to the seventh floor, he had regained his composure, and the euphoria of his escape had been replaced by the grim reality of his mission.