“So all in all a pretty productive morning,” said George as he helped Ron pull clean sheets over his and Harry’s beds. It was a balmy late afternoon, and the three of them were once again at the Burrow preparing for a stay of unknown length.
“Yeah,” Ron agreed sullenly. “A little morning torture, bringing down the last big Death Eater, and another night with all of you. I’d say it’s been pretty much like…”
“Like being in Hogwarts with Harry again,” Ginny interrupted from the doorway. She sat down next to Harry with a caring smile and handed him what looked like a blue towel. “Put this on your face. Mum says it helps after flame hexes.” She bent over and kissed his cheek, which had been hot and swollen since Narcissa's rampage that morning.
“Thanks,” he said. He pressed the towel to his face and felt it ice over in his hands. It felt wonderful after passing the entire day with the burning memory of his face on fire. He leaned to give Ginny a hug. "At least I have the best nurse
possible."
A few carefully whispered spells and a rather large amount of Dittany from Mrs. Weasley’s plentiful stock had cleared up most of Harry’s injuries quite quickly, but Molly had not allowed him out of her sight all day. She had apparated to the front steps of the Black house the second that Ron’s silver terrier had appeared in the kitchen to warn her of the day’s destructive beginnings. She had arrived second only to Romulus Redberg, the new head of the auror division. She was just in time to find Harry swollen and shaking in the rubble of his bedroom, trying in vain to stem the flow of blood that was pouring from his mouth, relaying everything to a shocked Redberg, and angrily insisting on leading a team into Malfoy Manor to look for Bellatrix and Draco. One stern look and a few well chosen words uttered between gritted teeth had been enough to eliminate any illusions of dangerous expeditions, and he had reluctantly allowed himself to be treated without much protest.
The rest of the day had been a buzz of auror activity. It seemed that the entire ministry had been invited into the Black house to root through everything. Harry had repeated the same story no less than twenty times to various heads of departments. Malfoy Manor had been thoroughly searched using every detection spell imaginable. Harry, Ron, and Hermione, along with every auror and magical detection agent that could be spared, had spent the entire day rooting through even the smallest cracks with any hint of magic near them in the Malfoy home. It proved to be utterly in vain, however. There remained no sign of neither Draco nor the possibility of a revived Bellatrix Lestrange.
Narcissa had been taken in chains to Azkaban where she was to remain until her trial, scheduled to begin in exactly one week. During that time, her Caminus Charm was to be reversed, and the ministry had plans to paint the Black house with a fresh barrage of protection spells, leaving Harry, Ron, and Hermione once again at the mercy of Mrs. Weasley until all was back to normal again.
The front page of the Daily Prophet the next morning was a montage of struggling photos of Narcissa Malfoy in chains, her white blond hair splayed messily behind her as she raved silently. It brought back memories of the photos of her sister that had appeared in the paper after a massive breakout during Harry’s fifth year at Hogwart’s. Narcissa was being called "Voldemort’s last disciple", and the headlines rang of the final triumph of "The Chosen One". Harry had thrown the paper down without reading the article, amazed at the Daily Prophet's ability to over sensationalize everything that had to do with him. There had already been four owls requesting exclusive interviews, and Hermione had captured a shiny blue-green beetle in the breakfast table centerpiece that had turned out to be a shameless Rita Skeeter in search of any information that would put her in line for her next book. Harry had seen Hermione in the garden later with a glass jar, obviously contemplating whether or not to set Skeeter free. She had returned with an empty glass jar a great while later. Clearly, the decision had not been an easy one.
Even if he had been willing to grant an interview in the week before the trial, he would have found himself unable to do so. Mrs. Weasley occupied the majority of his spare time with incessant fussing to see if the flaming hex”apparently a Death Eater original”had left any long-lasting effects. Hermione, who still was not convinced that Narcissa's warning was anything more than random threats, had taken up her constant badgering of both him and Ron with renewed vigor. Their nights were filled with study schedules and homework assignments, all to prepare them for the ever-closer NEWT's. Ginny only needed to be somewhere near to serve as a welcome distraction for Harry who, faced with the horrifying new probablility of Bellatrix still being alive, had spent all his days at the ministry trying to find even the smallest hint of proof or clue as to where she and Draco might have taken refuge. What Narcissa had said about Draco had proved to be true. Draco had disappeared from St. Mungo's where he volunteered at weekends, but beyond that, any trail ran cold. Harry had requested formal interrogations several times with Narcissa, hoping that having been her final captor would have allowed him special preference, but his requests had been repeatedly denied with sincerest apologies and the excuse that Narcissa had become uncontrollable, even requiring the use of Sayers. Harry, who had no idea what Sayers were, had accepted the rejection with great disappointment and continued to offer his help in the search for Draco, as no one truly believed that a search for a long dead Death Eater was needed.
Hermione, for her part, had been through the entire Hogwarts and Hogsmeade libraries looking for anything in the Black family history that would lead them to an explanation or a hiding place. None of them, not even Harry, knew whether or not to believe Narcissa. There had been hundreds of witnesses to Bellatrix’s death, and very few explanations to her possible undeath. Harry could think of only one reason that Mrs. Weasley's curse had been ineffective. Bellatrix herself would have had to make a Horcrux, and that possibility was too horrible to entertain for long periods of time.
The day before the trial, a regal golden brown owl appeared at the breakfast table with a golden envelope addressed to Harry. It was a summons from the Wizengammot requiring him to report to the ministry exactly one hour before the start of the trial at the request of the prisoner, Narcissa Malfoy.. There was a friendly postscript in Kingsley's handwriting saying "Better late than never!" Harry read the summons aloud and then looked up to a table full of puzzled faces.
“Why would she want to talk to you now?” asked Ron.
“More important, why would the Wizangammot allow you to speak to her now?” asked Hermione. “You’ve been asking to see her for a week and they've rejected every request.”
"Maybe she's calmed down enough for Harry to see her now," Ginny speculated.
Harry remained silent. He did not have an answer, but he found that he did not care. He had spent the majority of the week trying to speak to Narcissa, and now the opportunity had presented itself in the simplest form”a request from the prisoner herself.
He spent the majority of the day discussing his mysterious interview with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione before going to bed early to give himself time to think. He imagined being alone in an interrogation room with Narcissa and he suddenly found that he did not have the slightest idea what he wanted to ask her. Hundreds of thoughts and worries were floating around in his mind, but he couldn’t form a single solid question. If Narcissa's words were true, then he needed to gather as much information as possible. He needed to understand. If Bellatrix truly had survived Mrs. Weasley’s curse, then he needed to know how. Where had she gone? Most importantly, how could she be taken down once again. All of these thoughts formed a random sort of chaos in his head, and he fell asleep without having constructed a single feasible question.
He awoke very early in the morning and slipped out for a walk in the garden to clear the deluge from his mind. By the time the sun had reached the level of the garden fence, Harry was convinced that he had developed at least a proper amount of questions for the occasion, and he made his way back to the house.
Hermione, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley were all in the kitchen, and a warm breakfast awaited him on the table. They ate together in silence for a few minutes, and then Ginny said, "You'll send an owl right away telling us how it went, won't you?"
Harry was startled. “You mean you're not all going to the trial?" he asked.
"Oh no, dear," said Molly. "Ministry only at Death Eater trials. You know that! If everyone who wanted to go did, it would be a regular circus!" She glanced over at the famous grandfather clock. The hand that represented Mr. Weasley was now pointed to In Transit, which must have meant that he was headed to the trial. “It’s almost time."
From the expression on Ginny's face, the argument on whether or not to attend the trial had already been fought and won by Mrs. Weasley. Harry fixed her with a sympathetic look.
"I'll send an owl directly after the trial," he promised.
"Wonderful!" said Molly cheerfully. "Kingsley will be waiting for you at Apparition Point four.” She flicked her wand at him casually and Harry felt a tug on the back of his head as his hair tried in vain to smooth itself down. She gave up, frowning a bit. “Arthur went in early today to get good seats. You should be able to find him easily enough.”
"Don't forget to send an owl!" called Hermione as Harry nodded at Mrs. Weasley and made his way toward the door.
Ginny accompanied him to the garden gate and gave him a kiss for luck before he turned on the spot and appeared moments later in the middle of an elaborate hallway. To his left and right were two long rows of chimneys, all glowing green as wizards of all shapes and sizes entered the ministry, shaking soot from their robes as they went on their way to uncountable ministry departments. Ahead of him and behind him, even more wizards were appearing and disappearing from the seven apparation points that had only recently been reinstalled inside ministry grounds.
Harry looked around for Kingsley and found him not far away in deep conversation with a guard in dark purple robes. He greeted him warmly and accompanied him to the lift, where Kingsley gave Harry a much needed explanation.
"I'm sorry this took so long, Potter," he said, making sure no other stragglers were listening in. "Narcissa went absolutely mad when she realized that she was in Azkaban. Wouldn't stop screaming about her son." His voice dropped to a whisper as the lift arrived and they both stepped in. "We tried to assure her that we had ministry agents searching for him, but she was inconsolable. She attacked her own husband when we let him visit her."
"Do they know anything more about Draco?" Harry asked as the lift glided smoothly to a stop in the ministry basements.
"Nothing new," Kingsley replied. "The Healers saw him leave St. Mungo's at his normal time. The trail goes cold then. He lives in that mansion all alone now. Not even a servant to serve as a witness."
They exited into the sickly familiar hallway and turned right toward the large courtroom that had served the same dark purpose now for nearly three decades. Harry couldn’t help a glance back to the black door at the opposite end of the corridor that marked the entrance to the Department of Mysteries.
He paused at the courtroom doors, expecting Kingsley to do the same. Instead, he continued on to what seemed like a window. The sun shone brightly in on them, though Harry knew that they were at least seven floors underground. Kingsley tapped the window twice with his wand and the sun disappeared, revealing a small passageway guarded by two large wizards. They looked from Kingsley to Harry with grim, businesslike faces and Harry noticed that they were not carrying wands. The tallest of the two stepped forward and shook Harry’s hand almost bashfully.
“Clarin Sidehook at your service Mr. Potter,” he said with a shyness that didn’t show in his expression. “It is an honor to meet you. My wife will never believe me when I tell her.”
Harry grinned nervously.
"They are the Sayers that had to be called in to manage the prisoner." Kingsley explained. Then, seeing the look of confusion already forming on Harry's face, he added, "They've mastered magic without wands. Very rare. Very expensive."
Clarin and his partner looked down modestly, but Harry noticed the subtle smirk exchanged.
"She's in here," Sidehook said.
They continued down the passageway and into a tiny room with a chair identical to the one in the middle of the courtroom. Harry remembered his brief stint with ministry justice in his fifth year”how he had feared that the manacles hanging from both sides of that chair would wrap around his wrists and ankles as he sat unable to protest. Today, however, the chair was occupied by the pale, unmoving figure of Narcissa Malfoy.
“The Great Harry Potter,” she said as he drew closer. Her voice was tainted with bitter sarcasm. “How does it feel to take down ‘The Last Great Disciple?’”
“Are you the last?” Harry asked.
Narcissa looked around at the eager expressions on the faces of Kingsley and her two guards, and smiled a tired smile that was void of all emotion. “Draco has been missing for ten days now.”
“The ministry has had its best agents looking for Draco all week,” said Kingsley. Narcissa did not acknowledge his words.
"Your ministry will do nothing to find the son of two Death Eaters. But you saved him in the battle...twice. He told me that."
"I've been helping them all week," said Harry. Sensing the conversation headed in the wrong direction, he tried to steer it toward more dangerous matters. “They’ve been looking for Bellatrix too.”
Narcissa said nothing, but continued to stare around at the four men with a cool gaze.
“If Bellatrix is alive, then they could be together,” Harry goaded. “It would make it easier to find Draco if you…”
“If Draco is with her, it is against his will!” snapped Narcissa, and Harry began to see the rage that he had expected.
“Then it’s true!” exclaimed Sidehook's partner from behind
him. “Bellatrix Lestrange is still alive?”
Harry looked irately back at him. Narcissa had resumed her cold observation of the room around her. She would never give him the information that he needed with onlookers present. “Is there any way I could be left alone with her for a minute?”
Narcissa gave a crazy laugh. "Leave the mascot of their new society alone with a murderer?" she said sarcastically. "Not for all the information in England!"
Kingsley confirmed this with a tense shake of his head.
Frustrated, Harry turned toward Narcissa. “Mrs. Malfoy, why did you ask me to come here today if you don't want to tell me anything. I can’t find Draco any faster than the ministry unless you have something else to tell me.”
“Draco is not the same boy he was at school, Potter,” she said. “He is not a murderer, and had it not been to save his father, he would never have become a Death Eater.” She looked down in what seemed like shame. “I would never have been a Death Eater if I had not married one.”
Harry remembered the desperation in her voice in the Forbidden Forest as she listened for his heartbeat at the request of her master. She had saved his life in the end. He found that he believed her now. She was evil. She was arrogant beyond belief, and completely convinced of her own superiority, but it was not in her to be "Voldemort's Last Disciple". She was only a mother who had been given no other options. Still, he had trouble finding any amount of sympathy for her. She may not have chosen her path, but she had enjoyed quite a few steps down it just a little too much for Harry's taste.
“Is that all you wanted to tell me, then?” he asked impatiently. “Nothing about Bellatrix? Nothing about whether she’s still alive? Nothing about where she is?”
Narcissa glared back at him, defiantly silent, and then, reluctantly, "She's alive."
The silence in the room was palpable. Harry felt something ice cold wash through him. He hadn't truly believed it until that moment.
"H-How?" he stammered.
"I don't know how," Narcissa said. "She just appeared one day at the manor. I told her I never wanted to see her again. She left."
"And took Draco with her?" Harry asked.
Her face took on a sudden animation. "Draco isn't helping her! If he's with her, it's as her captive!" She struggled against the manacles trying to stand. Sidehook moved forward smoothly.
"Mrs. Malfoy, sit down," he whispered forebodingly. She continued to strain against the manacles. Sidehook's eyes narrowed for a moment and the manacles began to glow blue. Narcissa screamed and sat down immediately, eyes closed tight.
"What did she say when she came to your house?" Harry asked her.
But Narcissa was no longer talking. When she opened her eyes again, they were unresponsive. "Get out now," she whispered.
"Mrs. Malfoy..."
"GET OUT!!" she shouted, and it was clear that the interview was over.
“I’ll look for Draco,” he said, his frustration barely in control as he turned toward the door. “I’ll find him, but not for you. You chose to marry a Death Eater and follow a murderer, and you will spend the rest of your life in Azkaban because of it. But I think Dumbledore was right about Draco... There’s still hope for him.” And as much as it disgusted him to say so, Harry meant what he said.
He was halfway to the door when Narcissa’s voice rang out again. “Though everyone here may think differently, Potter, I am not a Death Eater."
"That mark on your wrist says differently," Kingsley replied.
"I gave up that life the moment I defied the Dark Lord to save your life," she continued. "It's not over, Potter, and I want it to be. That's why I asked you here. I want my son to be safe, and I saw you take the Death Curse. I saw you defeat him." The awe with which Narcissa had spoken about her old master had been replaced with something closer to disgust. "You are the only one who can end it."
"Then answer my questions," Harry replied, but Narcissa was not finished.
"I visited my family vault before I visited you, Potter. I hadn’t been there since before I married Lucius. I found a trunk of memories that I had almost forgotten were there.”
Harry stared at her, puzzled. Was she telling him that the answers were in her vault?
“There were two things missing from inside the trunk,” she said. “One of those was a possession that Bellatrix never allowed out of her sight…for a time.”
She paused and looked up at Kingsley. “I arranged so that Potter…and only Potter…may enter the Black family vault.”
Finally turning back to Harry, she concluded with words that he would have never in his life expected to hear from Narcissa Malfoy. “Please, I’m begging you. Find my son. End this.”
And she turned away.
The Legacy of Four by spaniard
Chapter Endnotes: Up Next: A Return to Gringott's