The cold air hit Harry like a slap in the face, accompanied by the chilling layer of mist that swirled around his feet. This summer’s weather had been extremely unpredictable; they were experiencing frequent thunderstorms “ a few of which almost eerily lacked even one drop of water. Listening to the muggle news had proven to Harry that the non-magical community was still baffled by the weather’s current behavior. However, they were painfully aware of the murderer on the loose.
“…a tall, bald man who apparently,” the reporter momentarily replaced his former expression of seriousness by one of intrigued humor, “resembles a snake. He’s known by the name Tom Riddle and is armed and extremely dangerous. Might want to hold off any trips to the reptile house for a while. Now, on to the weather; Katie, it seems London’s had yet another flood…”
Harry trudged down the road, dragging his trunk behind him. Admittedly, he was surprised that no one from the Order had come out from following him, saying he wasn’t allowed to leave Privet Drive. Craning his neck to either side, Harry tried to catch a glimpse of one of them. Maybe they were still following him and just hadn’t wanted him to know yet “ but no, there was no sign that anyone was still out. Not a sound.
“Bugger,” he muttered under his breath. He had hoped someone would be around so he’d have a place to go and a way to get there, but apparently it was up to him. “The one time I want them to be here, and they’re no where in sight.”
The fact that he was now of age and could use magic outside of school seemed to have slipped his mind (after all, he had only been seventeen for a few hours). Instead, he was trying to think of a means of getting to the Burrow. Apparating wouldn’t do “ he had yet to take and pass the test and even then he wasn’t keen to experience its suffocating pressure again. His firebolt was in his trunk, but flying wasn’t an option either; he would be too easily seen as people had become extremely paranoid and would no doubt notice him when they looked out for any sign of danger. Even if he risked using his invisibility cloak, he still would have the problem of carrying his trunk. He was left with one option and although it was unappealing it would have to do.
The second after he pulled his wand out of his pocket and held it in the air in front of him, a large and violently purple triple-decker bus appeared out of no where, perilously close to bowling Harry over. Stan Shunpike, still as pimply as he was four years previous, jumped nimbly out of the bus. He started his speech but upon seeing who it was, stopped to exclaim, “Oi, it’s ‘arry Potter! ‘Ow’ve you been, mate? Hey, Ern, ya hear me? It’s ‘arry “”
Harry’s hand clamped over Stan’s mouth, cutting him off.
“We all know it’s me, now let’s leave it at that,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Stan nodded his head in eager understanding, so Harry removed his hand warily.
With his mouth free once again, the young man bent down close to Harry’s ear and whispered conspiratorially, “I getcha ‘arry. ‘ere, come in, you can sit near the front, next to me and Ern. You’re pretty lucky, ya know; we’re darn near empty at the moment, so no dark wizards will be able to see where you’re goin’.” He gave Harry one last significant look before taking his trunk and leading him onto the Knight Bus.
Once inside, Harry sat down on the foremost chair, gripping a candle bracket on the wall, and bracing himself for the explosive start. As he knew it would, the bus took off with a deafening BANG that never met muggle ears, but rattled magical ones.
Stan brought him the steaming cup of hot chocolate Harry ordered and returned to the spot he always took to leaning on “ which happened to be right in front of Harry’s seat.
“So ‘arry, where to?” he asked.
“Er…”
He hadn’t thought of that. Of course he knew he needed to get to the Burrow, but most of the times he had gone there he had traveled by Floo powder, which meant he didn’t know its exact location. The only thing that gave him any idea was in his second year when Ron and his twin brothers had drove him there in a flying car, and all that did was tell him that it was somewhere past London.
“Er, do you happen to know where the Burrow is?”
“Sorry mate, don’t think I ever ‘eard o’ that one.”
That left him with two choices: The Leaky Cauldron or Grimmauld Place. Quickly making up his mind Harry said, “The Leaky Cauldron, then, please.”
“Awrighty, we can get ‘choo there in a jiff, can’t we Ern?” Not waiting for an answer from the bus driver, he continued talking to Harry. “’Ow’s your summer been, then?”
Harry raised his eyebrows, “Oh, just wonderful. What with Dumbledore dead and Voldemort still on the loose, what else could it be?”
Stan flinched at Voldemort’s name.
“Sorry mate, no offense meant; on’y trying to make conversation.”
“It's fine, Stan. So, how’ve you been?”
“You mean since my release from Azkaban? How could I be?” he said with a raised eyebrow.
Harry felt like smacking himself in the head. Nice going Potter. You get so caught up in yourself, you forget what other people went through, he thought silently. “I can’t believe I forgot! Was it as horrible as they say?” Again, he kicked himself mentally for the thoughtless questions. Have you lost all your tact?
“You’d better believe it!” Stan shivered impressively. “Most ’orrible experience in me life. But I can’t ‘old a grudge; old Scrimgeour apologized profusely once me name was cleared and, well, he is better than Fudge “”
“Don’t tell me you like the guy! He locked you in prison for making up a story! You should have only been questioned and warned not to do it again, not locked up for more than a month!”
“O’ course I don’t like ‘im, I know what ‘e did. All’s I’m sayin’ is that ‘e made a mistake and you gotta admit, it’s a spot better than ignoring You-Know-‘Oo’s existence altogether, innit?”
Stan, although he was the same person, seemed a lot more serious then the Stan Harry remembered. But that was to be expected; these were hard times and being in Azkaban prison wouldn’t help.
“Yeah, I suppose he’s better than Fudge, but arresting innocents won’t get him very far in the war.”
Stan nodded, but before he could say anything, another BANG echoed through the silence and Harry was thrown violently out of the chair and onto the floor. He managed to get to his feet with the help of Stan, who had stayed firmly upright and said, “Looks like we’re ‘ere.”
“Right. Thanks for the help Stan.”
Harry nodded his head at Ernie as he passed him on his way out. Stan followed to pass him his trunk and then returned to the bus shouting his farewell, while being conspicuously careful not to say his name. Harry grabbed his trunk and pulled it with him into the extremely grubby old inn. Behind him, another passenger that must have been on one of the upper levels was hurrying out of the Knight Bus, his platinum blonde hair unusually unkempt.
Tom, the innkeeper, was standing behind the counter wiping a glass with a rag that may or may not have been cleaning it.
“Hello, Tom,” said Harry as he walked up to him. “Could I use your fireplace and Floo powder?”
After receiving Tom’s nod, he walked over to the big fireplace that occupied a side wall. On top of it was a pot filled halfway with black powder, which Harry scooped up a handful of. He was about to throw it into the orange flames when a voice behind him hissed, “Potter, wait. We need to talk.”
Harry whirled around, immediately reaching for his wand but not pulling it out.
“Malfoy? What do you want?” he snarled. His gaze flickered left and right, searching for any hooded or otherwise hidden figures that could pass for Death Eaters.
“Relax,” Malfoy smirked. “I’m alone. I just wanted to talk to you. I…That night, when Dumbledore died…he gave me an offer…one that I hope still stands even if he doesn’t.”
His trademark smirk had vanished and been replaced by grim resolve with his cold grey eyes cast downward. “I know you’re probably confused but I can explain if you give me some time.”
Harry sighed. The truth was that he was numb to Malfoy. He just didn’t care about him anymore; he was a childhood rivalry, nothing more. Although it may appear that Harry had matured, it was far more likely that his lack of emotion towards Malfoy was due to the fact that most of his energy and hate was currently focused on one Severus Snape.
“I’m not confused.”
That was the truth; Harry knew exactly what Malfoy was talking about, as he had been there when it happened and it had been in the back of his mind ever since. Malfoy had nearly lowered his wand. He had faltered that night, a fact that left Harry wondering if it weren’t for the appearance of the Death Eaters, and ultimately Snape, their Headmaster might still be alive today. Before they had shown up, Malfoy had been offered his family’s protection from Voldemort and it had seemed like he was seriously considering the new option. Why wouldn’t he? Harry mused. Voldemort had threatened the safety of Malfoy’s family if he chose not to do his bidding.
Malfoy’s brow furrowed in confusion and he looked like he was about to say something, but Harry beat him to it.
“Never mind how I know. I’ll listen to you, but you better make this convincing; I’m not too open to trusting people who take every opportunity to insult my friends, not to mention one who has a Death Eater for a father.”
Once again he opened his mouth to say something but thought better of it and clamped it shut. After taking a deep breath he tried again. “Understood; but you’d better keep an open mind and forget old prejudices, like I’m trying to do.”
Harry inclined his head to nod. “Agreed.”
Glancing around one last time, he led the blonde over to an empty table in the corner of the room. Gesturing for him to sit in the chair across from his, he sat down and looked at Malfoy, waiting for him to begin. His mouth stayed firmly closed; he wasn’t about to make this any easier.
“Alright, Potter, I’m not going to tell you to pity me or that I’m a drastically changed man, because I’m not.”
“Then why “”
“Don’t interrupt me,” he said sharply and then paused, almost as if he was expecting Harry to object. When he didn’t, Malfoy continued. “I’m not a changed man because, despite what you may think, I never wanted to follow in my father’s footsteps; I always wanted to be my own person and make my own decisions. Yes, I know I used to look up to him and act like him, but that was only because I wanted to do something that would impress him, something that he’d approve of. That was before I knew what he actually did. Last year the Dark Lord wanted me to join him as one of his followers “ and I won’t lie, I was eager to prove myself, eager to become powerful so I could show my father, and everyone else, that I could do it. But as the year went on and I got deeper into my mission, I saw how…real all of it actually was. It wasn’t a game. I was assigned to kill Dumbledore.
“It was around that time that I began to see how much of a pawn my father was. He was a servant laid out at the Dark Lord’s feet, with no opinions of his own “ only ones he was told were his. It had been my understanding that no Malfoy was ever anything less than a master, a superior of everyone else, but here was my own father, groveling at the feet of a half-blood doing anything asked of him with no thoughts of his own. I wanted to be my own master, not another pawn of the Dark Lord’s.
“Anyway, after I learned more about the situation, I started to have doubts. Unfortunately for me, the Dark Lord could tell I was thinking about backing out and he took the initiative to give me the…motivation to follow through. That is, he gave me a choice: kill Dumbledore or he’d kill my parents. He wouldn’t have even hesitated to kill them; as his servants they are no more than scum to him, whether they choose to see that or not. It worked on me, because I’m not so heartless as to sacrifice my family for my own skin and even I wasn’t fooled into believing that he would spare my life after he’d killed my parents. So, I worked until I had figured out a way to let the Death Eaters into the castle.
“I don’t know how much you know about what happened that night, but I got Dumbledore defenseless on the Astronomy Tower. It was just me and him, so he tried to stall by talking to me. He made it clear that I didn’t have to do this; that I did have a choice, after all. I could change sides and help his Order in exchange for my “ and my parents’ “ protection.
“I tried to tell him that he was wrong and that he had no idea what I had gone through, because “ well “ he didn’t and the senile old man was trying to empathize with me and tell me that I was still too young. He also told me that I wasn’t going to kill him, that I couldn’t kill him. He was right about that and I knew it.
“I was about to lower my wand and accept his offer when some of the Death Eaters made it up to the tower. They kept pushing me and even though I wanted to I felt that I couldn’t just switch sides with all of them there. Then Snape came and…it all happened so fast. He could tell that I couldn’t do it and, like he’d been doing all year,” he spat bitterly, “he had to take my assignment into his own hands. After he killed him, he rushed me out before I could even think about what just happened.
“Once he got me to his house, he was summoned by the Dark Lord, but Snape didn’t want me to come “ probably for my own protection “ which suited me just fine, as it gave me enough time to sneak out. Either he didn’t expect me to try to leave or he wanted me to get away because there wasn’t anything to make it difficult. There’d be no point to tell you where I went or what I did, except the whole time that I was trying to evade the Dark Lord I kept turning my options over in my head. I realized if the Order was still as accepting as Dumbledore was, then it would be my best choice. If you are willing to take me, I am willing to help the Order. I should you warn you, though, I don’t know how much I am willing to risk.”
He paused and then added as an afterthought, “And I’m not going to pretend to like you or Weasel or the Mudblood.”
Malfoy finally finished his tale looking defensive, but his expression softened slightly and reverted back to uncertainty.
Harry, on the other hand, was a bit taken aback. He had never seen Malfoy look so vulnerable. It was a dramatic change compared to his normal cocky, I’m-richer-than-you demeanor and made him seem…human. He took a moment to think things over in his head. Could he trust him? He had been an enemy from the moment he had first met him which was over six years ago! He hadn’t exactly been discreet on his views, either “ hating all Gryffindors, muggle-borns, muggle-lovers, and basically anyone besides his small circle of Death Eaters’ kids. But even with all that he still seemed genuine and, after all, he might prove to be a great asset to the Order “ they were in desperate need of people. His mind argued back with the question that meant the most: could they afford to take the chance of ending up with another Snape if he was actually a spy for Voldemort?
No matter how much it bothered him, he couldn’t deny the needs of the Order or ignore the tone in Malfoy’s voice, so he looked up with only a little hesitance.
“Okay Malfoy, I’ll believe you. I was about to go to the Weasley’s so you can come with me; there’ll be members of the Order there. I don’t know what they’ll do, but I’m sure they’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and not kill you on the spot. But be warned: nobody will trust you, and if they accept you, you probably won’t be made a member for quite a while “ you’ll be put on some kind of probation. Oh, and believe me “ I’m sure Hermione, Ron, and I will survive even if we don’t have you as a friend.”
Malfoy smirked. “Good, I’m glad your delicate hearts will be able to take the blow.”
“I’m sure we’re devastated. Can we get a move on, now?”
After standing, Malfoy swept his arm out graciously. “After you.”
Together they stepped up to the fire and Harry dipped his hand in the bowl of Floo Powder, about to give some to Malfoy. He stopped.
“You know what? I think it’d be best if I go first.” He was imagining the Weasley’s reaction at seeing Draco Malfoy tumble out of their living room fire place. Not pretty. “Just say ‘the Burrow’. And maybe wait a couple minutes, too; you know, to give me a little time to prepare them.”
Seconds after receiving a curt nod, Harry was spinning past hundreds of different fireplaces with tongues of emerald flames harmlessly licking his sides. His feet connected sharply with hard floor, causing him to fall foreword but he quickly made use of his Quidditch reflexes and shot his hands out to catch himself.
“Harry!”
A blur of bushy brown hair obstructed his vision while a pair of arms wrapped themselves around him so tight his lungs begged for air.
Hermione peeled herself away from the disoriented teenager and stepped back to pick up the heavy textbook she had dropped in her haste.
“What happened? I thought you weren’t due till tomorrow!”
“I wasn’t,” he gasped defensively, “but my uncle threw me out…”
“Wait a minute,” Hermione said suddenly. She cocked an eyebrow suspiciously and drew out her wand to point threateningly at Harry. “What did I use in third year to make it to class on time and what did we end up doing with it?”
“You had a Time-Turner and we used it to save Buckbeak and Sirius.”
She dropped her wand to her side, her tense body relaxing now that she knew it was really Harry. “Sorry, Harry, I just had to be sure it was you and not someone using Polyjuice or something. I mean, you coming early, saying you were kicked out…the conditions do look a little suspicious.”
“Yeah, it’s all right. Actually, I’m glad you checked. I wouldn’t want to think you’d let in just anybody,” Harry said.
“Hermione, wha “” The gangly, red-haired form of Ron walked into the living room followed by the entire Weasley clan, except Percy (“the great git”), Bill, and Charlie. ““ Harry?”
Everyone stared at Harry in shock until Mrs. Weasley recovered and pulled him into his second rib-cracking hug.
“Harry, dear, what are you doing here early? Didn’t Ron tell you we would fetch you tomorrow?”
“Yes, actually my uncle threw me out “”
“How dare he!” she exclaimed, “Where was your aunt in all this? Couldn’t stand up to that excuse of a man, I suppose?”
“No, but “”
“What were they thinking?! Dumbledore specifically told them you weren’t to go until your seventeenth birthday! Don’t they know how dangerous it is for you to be out on the streets alone?”
“Mrs. Weasley, I’m fine, okay “?”
“This is outrageous and unacceptable behavior! I knew we should’ve kept up surveillance on you but we just didn’t have anyone to spare!”
“But “ oof “” Harry felt something heavy collide with his back, which was still in front of the fire, and fell foreword again, this time caught by Mrs. Weasley. There was a split second of utter silence, broken finally by the rush of seven people clamoring for their wands and two unanimous cries of “Malfoy?!”
“I gave you nearly five minutes, Potter. Decided to chat a bit first?” he growled, putting his hands up in surrender.
“Harry, what’s this about?” Mr. Weasley had stepped foreword now, seeing as everybody else seemed to have lost the ability to talk.
Ron opened and closed his mouth a couple times before words forced their way out. “What the hell are you doing here Malfoy?”
“Ronald Weasley that is no way to talk to a “ a guest!” Mrs. Weasley scolded.
When Ron started to retaliate, the room erupted with voices: Mrs. Weasley and Ron arguing; Hermione trying to question Harry, though in a considerably more polite way than Ron had; Fred and George were adding their voices to the chaos by yelling at Malfoy who, apparently finding it incredibly unjust, was yelling back; Mr. Weasley was desperately trying to restore the peace between his wife and youngest son; Ginny, however, was still standing dumb-struck from Malfoy’s sudden arrival.
“Quiet!” Harry yelled over the din. Amazingly it worked “ everyone stopped and turned to look at him “ and he was grateful for that as he wasn’t sure how much longer it would’ve taken Fred or George to curse Malfoy into oblivion; thankfully, the blonde had enough sense not to take out his wand.
“Thank you. I know this is strange but I think we can explain everything if you can all keep your mouths shut long enough.” He paused. “Is McGonagall around, or Lupin, or at least someone else in the Order? We’ll have to tell them eventually and it’d be nice to only have to do this once.”
“Harry!” Hermione hissed. “Do you really think you should talk about the Order in front of him?”
“Well, since he’ll probably be our newest member, then yeah, I’d say so.”
Silence ensued once again.
Hermione cleared her throat. “Wh “ what was that? Come again?”
Everyone else just looked completely thunderstruck, with the exception of Ron, who looked either ready to laugh at this ridiculous joke and then kill the person who pulled it, or just outright kill Malfoy.
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Two hours later found him exhausted, but satisfied. The first thing he had had to do was prove, again, that he was indeed Harry (Ron refused to believe his real friend would lead Malfoy to the Burrow until he answered some security questions). Then a few of the upper Order members had been contacted; Kingsley Shacklebolt, Professor McGonagall, Mad-Eye Moody, and Remus Lupin being the ones that managed to show up. Malfoy had reiterated his story for (he hoped) the last time. After that they asked him to step outside for a minute so they could discuss whether or not they should believe him. Harry had found himself defending him, much to the surprise (and chagrin) of Ron. Throughout the entire thing Ron had been extremely difficult and was getting progressively worse. Hermione had taken it surprisingly well, but she had always tried to believe in the best of people.
The discussion that unfolded when Malfoy left held lots of arguing, especially on Ron’s part, most of it consisting of “but it’s Malfoy!” and “this is bloody ridiculous!” along with some more colorful language that brought him Hermione’s and Molly’s extreme disapproval. Moody and the twins proved to be the second hardest to convince, but they finally gave in.
Eventually they all agreed that he could stay with the Weasley’s for the time being, but until they had watched him long enough and deemed him trustworthy, he wouldn’t be involved in any Order business. When Malfoy was brought back to the kitchen to hear the verdict, Ron left the room, pushing past him while muttering, “Congratulations, ferret boy.”
“Yes, congrats!” Fred yelled suddenly.
“We’ll absolutely treasure our time with you,” added George.
“It’ll always have a place in my heart.”
“We’ll have so much fun you won’t know what hit you!”
Harry didn’t know if he’d ever seen Malfoy so ashen-faced; it looked like they were about to get a peek at his breakfast. But he couldn’t say he blamed him; Fred and George’s innocent expressions didn’t hide their gleaming eyes which gave them an almost maniacal look. Seeing the two of them together with those matching expressions could make Voldemort take a step back, let alone frighten everyone else.
“Oh, look at that Forge, he’s so happy he’s speechless,” said George, or Gred if you will, with a cheeky smile.
“Fred, George, that’s quite enough,” admonished Professor McGonagall sternly. “Now, Mr. Malfoy, we have some things to clear up. You will be staying here with the Weasley’s, who graciously agreed to house you,” “ Malfoy blanched “ “so I expect you to be on your best behavior…
“But this is only temporary. We will be holding another Order meeting very soon to discuss how to explain your disappearance to the rest of the world. And I want this to be clear to all of you,” she turned sternly to the rest of people in the room, “Mr. Malfoy’s presence here cannot be shared with anyone. I want his new position to be kept a secret from everyone outside of this house, including fellow Order members, except for a select few who will be told directly by me. Is this clear?”
Everyone nodded, possibly out of fear of what the Professor would do if they didn’t.
Author's Note: I hope I did the characters justice in this chapter. I'm a little worried about how to portray Malfoy without him seeming ooc. Let me know what you think!