Draco had been sitting in the dimly lit little Ministry room for well over an hour and he was getting annoyed. He drummed his fingers on the long table and leaned back in his chair. Potter could play all the games he wanted, but he would not get the satisfaction of seeing Draco visibly frustrated.
He still didn’t really know why he was here. Almost all of him had been advising against it, but the dissenting faction far back in his brain had won out for some reason.
The door swung open at long last. Harry Potter and a dark-haired young woman Draco didn’t know walked in.
Potter looked almost exactly as he had in school, even six years later. He was in the Prophet almost daily now. Whenever his smug visage showed up on the front page, Draco would throw the paper into the bin. He didn’t care to see further proof of his adversary’s success.
“Potter,” said Draco, keeping his voice even.
“Malfoy,” said Potter, sitting across from Draco. “This is my associate, Astoria Greengrass.”
Greengrass gave Draco a curt nod and sat next to Potter, her light green eyes giving Draco a long and unapologetic evaluation.
“You told the front office that you had information on the organization calling itself the Confederacy,” said Potter. He placed a thick brief on the table.
“That’s right,” said Draco, attempting a sneer. “But I want to know what I’m getting in return if I give you what I have.”
Potter sighed. “How good’s your information?”
“Good,” said Draco. “You don’t want to pass this up, Potter.”
Greengrass whispered something in Potter’s ear.
“We can offer you a job in the Department,” said Potter. He was smiling broadly.
Draco snorted. “I mean money. Maybe some real estate. Not a job.”
“Tell us exactly what you have and then we’ll talk rewards,” said Potter.
“Fine,” said Draco. “I’ll tell you what happened.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Draco sipped his firewhisky and scanned the Hog’s Head. There was only one other customer, a wizard with a scraggly brown beard at the bar. Aberforth was listening to him hold forth on some matter of great importance.
The pub’s door swung open and a tall figure in a cloak walked in. The man’s face was hidden by a hood, his gait purposeful. He sat down at the small table with Draco.
“You Malfoy’s kid?” asked the cloaked figure.
“Yeah,” said Draco. “Take off the hood. I want to see who I’m talking to.”
The man pulled down the hood, revealing a nondescript, unshaven face with narrow brown eyes and a thin white scar on the upper lip.
“What do you want?” asked Draco bluntly after a moment of silence.
“I want to recruit you, Draco. We want to recruit you,” said the unshaven man.
“Recruit me for what?” asked Draco, taking a sip of firewhisky.
The man smiled. “You hear about that little rumble up in Kent? Mudblood family got themselves taught a little lesson.”
“Yeah,” said Draco. A Muggle-born family had been tortured by men in masks and cloaks. One of them had been killed. It had been all that the Prophet could report on for the last few weeks.
“That’s all us, lad,” said the man. His eyes actually twinkled. “You served the Dark Lord. You come from an ancient family”one of the best. It’s time to do your duty as a pureblood.”
“Listen to me, scum,” said Draco, pointing a finger in the man’s dirty face. “I am a member of a very old family and I’m hardly going to run around with a bunch of unorganized fools who think they can bring down the Ministry.”
“We aren’t unorganized,” said the man. “We’ve got a plan, Draco. A big one. Our leader is brilliant. We can bring this country”and all the mudbloods in it”to its knees. And you will be part of the conquering army for once.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” asked Draco.
The man shrugged. “You don’t really. But I know your type. You didn’t like watching Potter and his merry band of misfits win, did you?”
Draco did not answer.
“Of course you didn’t,” said the man, as if Draco had answered him. “Well, here’s your second chance, pal.”
There was silence for a moment. Draco could feel his mind whirring. What should he do?
The ragged man sighed and got up, his chair scraping the floor shrilly. “I guess you don’t have the courage,” he said. He pulled a thick coin out of his pocket and put it on the table. “Drink’s on me.”
“I’ll do it,” said Draco.
The man sat down again. “That’s the spirit. Have I told you my name yet?”
“No.”
“Shamus Buckley,” said the man. He stuck out his grubby hand and Draco gingerly shook it. “Welcome to the Confederacy, Draco.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *“What happened then?” Potter asked. Greengrass was furiously making notes.
“He said that they’d be in touch and he left,” said Draco. He thought that his tale had gone over rather well; with luck he would rolling in Galleons by the end of the day.
Potter opened the file in front of him and pulled out a moving, black-and-white photograph. “Is that the man you met?”
It was. Shamus Buckley was sitting in a room not unlike the one they were in now and was holding up a card with his name on it.
“That’s him,” said Draco. “Did you already know he worked for the Confederacy?”
“We suspected,” said Potter. “But we weren’t sure. How long has it been since you met with him?”
“I met him last night. I got an owl yesterday morning telling me to be at the Hog’s Head,” said Draco. “I assume they’ll send me another letter with more details.”
“Were you followed when you came here this morning?” asked Greengrass, her first audible words. Her voice was crisp and cool.
Draco shook his head. “Apparated from my flat. No one knew where I was coming.”
“Okay,” said Potter, getting up. “You’ve given us some good information, Malfoy. I’m going to discuss this with the Department. You stay put and I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“I’d like a butterbeer and something to eat if I’m going to be in here for another two hours,” said Draco.
“I’ll send someone in,” said Greengrass. She and Potter left the room.
Twenty minutes later a stocky witch came in with a ham sandwich and a foaming mug of butterbeer. She put the food down on the table and left without a word.
Draco ate his meager meal and then paced the small room, which may as well have been a cell. There were no windows (not even fake ones) and only one door, which was almost certainly locked.
Nearly three hours after the food service, Potter and Greengrass returned, both of them lugging hefty files. They sat down again.
“It’s about time,” said Draco. “I’ve been in this room for almost five hours””
“How much do you know about the Confederacy?” Potter said, interrupting Draco.
“Not that much,” said Draco. “They tortured the family up in Kent. Been causing some minor trouble around the country.”
“It’s much more serious than that,” said Potter sharply. “The Confederacy is big, well-run and efficient. They seem to have a pureblood bent and may have a long-term goal. They’re the most dangerous thing this country has seen in a long time.”
“We’ve only caught a few of their operatives over the last six months,” said Greengrass. “No solid information. Apparently the underlings are operating on a need-to-know basis. None of them even knows who the Leader is.”
“It can’t be Buckley, can it?” Draco said.
“Absolutely not,” said Greengrass irritably. “Buckley is only a small fish. The Leader is someone powerful and cunning, someone with an ulterior motive.”
“I don’t know why you’re telling me all this,” said Draco. “I just want to take my money and leave.”
Potter sighed. “That’s the thing, Malfoy. You’re our new ace. We don’t want you to walk away. We want you to double for us inside the Confederacy.”
“I can tell you right now that that’s not going to happen,” said Draco. “I’ve already put my neck on the line. I want my reward. That’s it.”
“Your family’s still rich, Malfoy,” said Potter. “You didn’t tell us what you’ve told us for a few extra Galleons. What is it you really want?”
“I’m in this for the money,” said Draco. “I don’t care about bringing down the Confederacy and saving the Mudbloods.”
“If you act as double agent for the Ministry, you will receive an Order of Merlin, First Class,” said Greengrass. Her words carried authority in every syllable. “Along with that, you and your family get full pardons””
“We’re already pardoned!” said Draco. “We’ve been cleared””
“You and your parents are still on probation,” said Potter. “You do this for us and you’ll receive full pardons from the Minister himself. Along with a substantial amount of gold.”
That same little part of Draco that had told him to go to the Ministry in the first place was whispering, though he tried to ignore it. “How much gold?” he asked.
“A thousand Galleons,” said Potter. He looked as though it caused him physical pain just to say the words.
“All you’ll have to do is get in the Confederacy’s favor,” said Greengrass. “We’ll pull you out as soon as we have what we need: the identity of the Leader and the Confederacy’s master plan.”
The money, the pardons, the Order of Merlin was almost enough. But”as much as Draco hated to admit it”the word that his little voice kept repeating was the only real reason that he said: “Fine, I’ll do it.”
That word was redemption.