The owl came two mornings afterwards. It was a big fat barn owl that flew through Draco’s window, dropped the letter on his desk and was gone in an instant.
The missive was contained in a plain white envelope with Draco Malfoy written on it in black ink. Draco picked it up and slit it open.
There was a single sheet of white paper inside. On it was written The Leaky Cauldron. Room 123. Nine o’clock. .
Draco felt his heart skip a beat. He had spent the last two days waiting for this letter, examining this ridiculous situation from every possible angle. Why was he helping them, and Potter of all people? He should have refused Buckley’s offer in the Hog’s Head and walked away.
He still dreamed about the terrible things he had seen as a Death Eater, the men he’d seen die, the things the Dark Lord had forced him to do. He would awake shaking, his sheets soaked with sweat.
How could he re-enter that world of death and danger, now that he knew what terror awaited him? Why would he put his own life at risk to help the Ministry and their precious mudbloods?
He didn’t know why, not really.
Draco stuck the letter in his pocket, threw on a jacket and turned on his heel, his crummy flat disappearing before his eyes, replaced with the cavernous Ministry Atrium.
It was nearly ten o’clock and there was still a great deal of activity in the Atrium, many people just now arriving for work. Draco showed the young security witch the badge that Greengrass had given him after he had agreed to double and he was nodded through without close examination.
He joined a crowd of witches and wizards waiting for a lift and when it came, he found himself squeezed between a couple of very tall, very wide women who were talking animatedly over his head.
Draco got off on Level One and entered the Auror Office. It appeared to be just a modest office full of cubicles, but he guessed that it was probably larger than most people guessed. He was quite sure that the door to the room he had been in previously had disappeared after he left it.
A wizened secretary waved him over. “What’s your business here?”
“I’m Draco Malfoy, here to see Potter,” said Draco.
The secretary’s eyes widened. “Mr. Malfoy. Of course. Third office on your left.”
Draco followed her instructions and found the correct door. It was closed. The nameplate read: Astoria Greengrass. He knocked.
“Come in!” shouted a woman. Draco supposed it was Astoria. He opened the door and went in.
It was a spacious, tastefully decorated office. There were diplomas on the wall and a few Wizarding photographs, as well as”to Draco’s surprise”a few Muggle ones.
Greengrass was sitting at her desk, working on a bright purple typewriter, keys clacking as she wrote.
“Sit down,” she said, gesturing at a chair in front of the desk.
“Where’s Potter?” asked Draco bluntly. “I thought I was dealing with him.”
“Mr. Potter will not be handling your case. I will,” said Greengrass. She stopped typing, pulled the sheet of paper from the machine and fed it into a slot on the wall. It disappeared with a buzz.
“Why?” asked Draco.
“Mr. Potter feels that his history with you might make him prejudiced against you and your information. I have no prior relationship with you,” said Greengrass. “Sit down.”
Draco obeyed. “The Confederacy contacted me,” he said, laying the envelope on Greengrass’s neat desk. “I’m to meet them tonight. At the Leaky Cauldron.”
Greengrass examined the envelope and enclosed note with interest, performing a few spells on them that elicited bursts of green smoke. Appearing satisfied, she placed the note neatly back in the envelope and filed it away in a drawer.
“The letter was magically wiped of traces, and thoroughly so, I might add,” she said. “You will have to be at that meeting tonight. You will follow whatever orders they give you, will do whatever is requested of you. We want as much information as possible.
“Shall I make mental notes of their names?” asked Draco with sarcasm.
Greengrass did not smile. “There will be no need of that. We will hear everything they say.”
She touched herself under the chin with her wand and said: “Ellen, could you send Parker in?”
Draco did not hear any response, but Greengrass nodded and said: “Thank you.”
A moment later the door opened and a slender, balding, bespectacled man entered with a leather case.
“This is Mr. Herman Parker,” said Greengrass. “Herman, if you will.”
Parker smiled brightly and opened his case. “Mr. Malfoy, is it?” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Yes,” said Draco, trying hard to make his tone as cool as possible.
Parker pulled what looked like a small lump of flesh-colored putty from the case. “I just invented this,” he said holding it up. “Got the idea from my Muggle Studies class a few years back.
“What is it?” asked Draco.
“It’s a listening device. The Muggles use very similar ones,” said Parker smugly, smoothing the putty in his hands. “Of course, those work on batterlies and acclivity and such, rather than magic.”
The man reached over and the smoothed the putty between the top of Draco’s ear and his scalp.
“What are you doing?” said Draco, jerking away.
“That’s where it goes,” said Parker, sounding hurt. “Virtually undetectable. A Secrecy Sensor might pick it up, but you’re almost certainly safe from Anti-Concealment Charms and Searching Spells.”
“We will be able to hear everything on our end,” said Greengrass. “But you won’t be able to hear us, which means you will be receiving no official instruction during the meet. You’re on your own.”
“That’s comforting,” said Draco. “What do I do if I’m found out?”
Greengrass shrugged. “Duel your way out or hope that our team gets there in time to save you. If we hear that you’ve been discovered, a team of Aurors will be sent to incapacitate the Confederates. But, ideally, your cover will be intact for a while longer.”
“I’m not in this for the long haul,” said Draco sharply. “Two weeks, tops. After that, I walk away. I’ll end up dead if you keep this up.”
“Listen to me, Malfoy,” said Greengrass. Her voice had an edge he had never detected before. “The Confederacy is planning something. Something that will take innocent lives. If you’re such a coward that you’re willing to put the lives of innocents in jeopardy to help yourself, then consider yourself done here. We’ll raid the meeting tonight and save ourselves the trouble of dealing with someone as totally spineless as you.”
Parker’s mouth was hanging open a little. This was obviously not protocol.
There was a heavy silence for several seconds. Draco tried to think of a retort that would wound her, but could think of none. Finally, he said: “I said I’d do it and I’m going to. But I’m not going to let you walk all over me. I will go to Potter if I have to and ask him””
“To assign you to someone else?” said Greengrass, smiling for the first time. “I’m sure Mr. Weasley would be happy to take on your case. Or perhaps Mr. Longbottom.”
Greengrass had won and she knew it. Draco did not respond.
Parker muttered something under his breath and left the room.
“You can go now, Malfoy,” said Greengrass, putting a sheet of paper in her typewriter. “You will wait in a holding room for the rest of the day.”
Draco opened his mouth to insult her, but closed it. He left the room without another word, carefully letting the door bang behind him.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
At eight-fifty-five, Draco Apparated into the Leaky Cauldron, having finally gotten the go-ahead from Greengrass. He had spent hours waiting in the holding room, had eaten both lunch and dinner there. He intended to complain to Potter the first opportunity he got.
The Cauldron was not as full as Draco had expected; there were only a few people scattered around the pub. Hannah Abbott was behind the bar serving drinks. Draco knew that her husband, Longbottom, was also here, and waiting to raid Room 123 with the rest of the Aurors. The thought gave him a little comfort.
He wound around the room until he reached the staircase leading to the inn’s rooms. He found Room 123 with ease. The door was closed and locked.
Draco raised his hand to knock, but paused. There was still time to escape, still time to renege on his deal with Potter and the Ministry.
No. He had started this and he would finish it. He rapped on the door three times.
It opened a crack and a dark eye peered out.
“It’s Draco Malfoy. I was told to come,” said Draco.
The door opened all the way and Draco stepped into the darkened room.
Though it was dim in the room, Draco could vaguely make out three figures: one sitting in a chair, one standing by the door and one, smaller figure, sitting on the bed.
“Draco!”
To Draco’s enormous surprise, the smallest figure jumped up and hugged him. The voice was familiar.
“Er, hi,” said Draco, patting whoever it was on the back.
A lamp lit with a hiss and Draco saw that he was embracing Pansy Parkinson, her pug-like face shining with glee.
Buckley was seated, his legs crossed. “Glad you could make it, Draco,” he said. “I take it you know Miss Parkinson?”
“Of course he knows me!” said Pansy. “We dated!”
It was almost funny. Draco had spent nearly a year trying to shake Pansy off and when he had finally broken up with her, she reappeared here, in the most unlikely of situations.
“The fella by the door is Nick Jarndyce,” said Buckley, gesturing towards the bulky, black-bearded bear of a man who had let Draco in. He nodded curtly.
“Now that we’re all here,” said Buckley, “we can get down to business””
“Wait a minute,” said Draco. He could feel his fear receding. There were only three of them and one of them was Pansy, who had not successfully performed the Full Body-Bind until her sixth year. “I’d like to know a little more about this organization. Who runs it? What are the plans?”
Buckley grinned. “Well, as for our leader, that we’re going to keep private for a little longer, Draco. This is a big group and we’re operating on a need-to-know basis.
“As for our plans,” said Buckley, “those are simple. The eradication of the damned mudbloods.”
Pansy and Jarndyce both chuckled sycophantically. Draco forced a smile. “But how are we going to go about that?” he asked. “The mudbloods outnumber us ten to one””
“Patience, Draco,” said Buckley. “All in good time. For now, our goals are a little less lofty.”
He walked to the window and pulled up the shade. “At nine o’clock, the shops in Diagon Alley close. The four of us are going to be making a little money tonight. For the Confederacy, of course.”
“Robbery?” said Draco. “I’ve joined this organization so I can rob shops?”
Buckley patted him on the back. “Never fear, Draco. Our leader has much bigger plans for you. But for now, we will settle for a few extra Galleons.”
“Which shop?” asked Pansy. She sounded excited at the prospect.
“A new one,” said Buckley. “’Morgan’s Magical Marvels,’ it’s called. The owner is supposed to be filthy rich and the shop’s been doing good business. We get in, take the money and leave. No hassle. No killing.”
“If we can help it,” said Jarndyce, an idiot grin on his twisted face.
Buckley smiled, but did not continue. He sat down again and glanced at his watch.
Draco opened his mouth to ask another question, but Pansy intervened, sitting him down on the bed and chattering at him.
“How were you recruited?” Draco asked during a pause in her elongated speech about her pleasure at their reunion.
“Me? Like everybody, I guess. I got an owl and met Shamus just a few weeks ago. This is my first official mission,” she said with pride.
“Have you met the leader yet?” Draco asked.
Pansy shook her head. “I’ve been to headquarters, though. It’s a grand place, Draco, so big””
“Here,” said Buckley, thrusting a thick black cap in Draco’s direction. Draco wondered if he had purposely interrupted Pansy’s monologue.
“What is it?” asked Draco.
“Mask,” said Buckley. “The chance that any of us will be recognized is slim, but we’re not taking any chances.”
Draco took the hat, examined it and then thrust it into his pocket. It folded down into a mask that would effectively hide his face should anyone see him. He felt like a fool. He had at least expected something a little grander than robbing a magic shop.
“It’s a little after nine,” said Buckley. “We’ll Apparate separately into the Alley. Try not to look conspicuous. Mill around for a few minutes and then meet in the alley behind Morgan’s. Got it?”
Everyone nodded. Buckley grinned, turned on the spot and vanished. There was a second pop as Jarndyce did the same.
Draco saw Pansy lean to grab his arm, but he Apparated off the bed before she could suggest that they go together. He could only stand so much of her inane conversation.
He re-materialized outside Gringott’s. The huge marble bank was silent, cold. There were no lights on.
The Alley itself was dark and mostly deserted. Only a scant few of the shops were opened and these were not heavily patronized. Most everyone was either already gone or emigrating to the Leaky Cauldron.
Draco took his time getting to Morgan’s. He knew where the shop was and had even gone in a few weeks ago. There had been a very pretty girl at the counter. He had not bought anything. He was careful with his money these days. His parents had, of course, given him a large sum of money when he left Hogwarts, but he had accepted nothing further from them.
It was going on nine-twenty by the time Draco reached Morgan’s. It was really quite a small shop, squeezed between Eeyelop’s Owl Emporium and a store that sold secondhand robes. There was a second story, presumably where the shopkeeper lived. All the windows but one were dark. Draco wondered if he would need to be incapacitated. Probably.
Buckley, Jarndyce and Pansy were already in the alley behind the shop. Buckley was pointing his wand at the building and muttering; something that looked like a heat haze was flowing from the tip of his wand.
“Complex Silencing Charm,” he said to Draco. “No sound can be heard from outside. We can do our business as loudly as we like.”
“What if the shopkeeper comes down?” asked Pansy. She sounded a little nervous now that she was in a position that might require her to duel.
“We Stun him,” said Buckley. “No bodies.”
“We could have a little fun with him,” said Jarndyce, smiling and showing teeth the color of chocolate. “I think he’s a mudblood.”
Buckley ignored this comment and continued casting his charm. When he was done, he turned and said: “Alright, the shop has an Intruder-Detecting Jinx and a Caterwauling Charm around it. Nothing too complicated. I’ll break the jinx. Draco, you take the Charm.”
Draco wracked his brains, trying to remember how to undo charms. A few spells finally came to him and he began muttering them under his breath, waving in his wand in what he hoped were the right motions.
When he was done, he performed a spell to detect the presence of charms, hexes or curses. To his pleasure, only the Jinx remained.
“Well done, Draco!” said Pansy, patting him on the back.
“Done,” said Buckley, wiping the sweat off of his forehead. “This shopkeeper must be good; that was a well-cast jinx. We should all be extra careful in there. Anything could be a trap.”
All four put on their masks. Draco felt like an idiot, but he had to admit that the masks would disguise them well. He could see nothing of his companions except for their eyes and mouths.
Jarndyce rapped on the back door with his wand. The lock clicked and the door swung open soundlessly. All four of them crept in, Pansy taking up the rear.
They were in a storage room of some kind. It was full of stacked boxes and twice Draco heard Jarndyce bump into a crate or a pile. If something fell over, their advantage”surprise”would be taken away.
Buckley lit his wand and led the way out of the storage room. He checked the door for spells and, finding none, entered the shop proper.
Draco remembered the layout from his earlier visit. The interior of the shop closely resembled the back room. It was so full of merchandise that only about ten people could be in the shop at a time, causing long lines outside when it first moved in.
The wandlight went out and Pansy jumped, nearly toppling over a display of Sneakascopes. Draco caught it before it fell over.
Jarndyce took up a position next to the narrow staircase that led to the second floor. There was a tiny chink of light coming down from the second story. Someone was awake.
Buckley moved behind the counter to the old-fashioned cash register and tapped it gently with his wand. He hissed.
“Another Caterwauling Charm on the latch,” he said under his breath. “Draco, Pansy, check the walls for a safe. Careful, now.”
Draco did as he was told, feeling the wooden walls for protuberances or evidence of magical concealment. Pansy did the same. Even in the dim light, Draco could see that she was shaking a little.
For nearly three minutes, Draco searched for a safe and found none. He could hear Buckley swear softly over by the cash register; apparently there was yet another charm on it to break.
Jarndyce stood like a statue by the staircase, grinning like a human shark, his fingers tight around his wand. He was waiting for someone to duel with.
Then it happened. As Pansy hastily felt the walls for a safe, her trembling hands knocked a large, framed portrait off the wall. It crashed on the floor in what sounded like an explosion.
Pansy squeaked as another light went on. There was the sound of voices and feet on floor. The shopkeeper was coming down.
Draco turned on the staircase, wand outstretched. Jarndyce was crouched like a huge dog, waiting to spring.
The door at the top of the stairs opened and a chubby, red-faced little man in nightclothes raced down the stairs, wand in hand. A curse flew across the room, shattering a glass globe. Pansy dove to get out of the way.
Jarndyce threw a hex at the shopkeeper, who nimbly returned it. Jarndyce was blown off his feet into a set of shelves. The noise was unbelievable.
Buckley was still working on the cash register, his lips forming words even amongst the chaos. There were now loud bangs coming from his wandtip; he was no longer trying to keep quiet.
The red-faced shopkeeper turned his wand on Draco, who used the first spell that came to mind: the Leg-Locker Curse.
To Draco’s surprise, his curse hit the shopkeeper, who tumbled off the staircase onto the floor, flapping like a fish, still trying to aim his wand.
Jarndyce, now upright again with a cut on his cheek, bellowed “Stupefy!”
The jet of red light struck the old man in the chest and he stopped flopping around.
By now a fat, red-haired woman in a nightgown had appeared at the top of the stairs, firing off curses and jinxes at an alarming rate. It was like a fireworks display inside the small shop.
A set of shelves exploded behind Draco and he was briefly buried under the weight of spellbooks and boxed magical instruments. He heard Pansy shriek as a spell hit her.
Draco extricated himself from the rubble enough to fire off a Stunning Spell. It went wide, bounced off a mirror and hit the wall.
Jarndyce was now dueling with the shopkeeper’s wife, who seemed a match for him. The spells were flying so fast that Draco could not really see whose was whose. Buckley was still working on the cash register, his eyes wide with concentration.
Pansy screamed an obscenity and Draco turned towards her. Her mask was off and her pug-like face was covered with eight or nine throbbing red pustules and she was attempting to fix them, though rather unsuccesfuly, Draco thought. They were only getting larger.
There was a crash as the fat woman fell from the staircase, her body immobilized by a Full-Body Bind. Jarndyce was standing over her, clearly pleased with himself. His cloak was riddled with small, smoking holes.
“That bitch!” screamed Pansy, running forward. She slashed her wand down and a long cut appeared on the woman’s face, blood bubbling out of it. The woman’s eyes rolled in pain that she was otherwise unable to express.
“Stop that!” yelled Draco. He pushed Pansy out of the way. “We’re not here to maim these people!”
“She maimed me!” said Pansy, pointing at her boil-covered face.
“Yes!” said Buckley. The cash register opened with a creak. “Finally broke that Sticking Charm!”
Jarndyce went over to help Buckley collect the money. Draco averted his gaze from the shopkeeper’s wife. He couldn’t stand to see the look of horror and pain in her eyes.
Pansy seemed to have regained her bravado now that the shopkeeper and his wife were incapacitated. She kicked the old man in the side and smiled.
Out of the corner of his eye, Draco saw a thin, white-clad figure on the staircase. He whipped around, wand arm rising, but the figure jumped down with a cry and started to scratch at him, knocking him to the ground and hitting him as hard as it could.
Draco’s mask, already loose, came off and he saw that his attacker was the pretty girl he had seen working the counter. He poked her in the belly with his wand and she went flying into a bookshelf.
Jarndyce pointed his wand at the girl as she righted herself and she fell again, immobilized like the woman that Draco thought was probably her mother. Her blue eyes flicked around wildly, taking in her surroundings.
“Draco! Are you all right?” asked Pansy. She gave the girl a dirty look. “Must be a Squib. No wand.”
Buckley flicked his wand and the Petrified girl flew across the room, finally landing on her face next to her Stunned father. A little trickle of blood flowed from her head.
“Only thing I hate worse then a muddy is a damned Squib,” said Buckley. He was holding a large sack of Galleons, as was Jarndyce.
Draco felt like he might be sick. If he went over to help the girl, his cover would be blown or at least exposed to serious scrutiny. He couldn’t do it.
“How much money?” asked Pansy eagerly.
Buckley smiled. “Plenty. More than I thought we’d get.”
He surveyed the shop, which looked as though it had been bombed. “We did good work here. I’m going to take the gold to headquarters. You three go home. We’ll be in touch soon.”
Without another word, Buckley Disapparated. Jarndyce followed suit.
Draco wanted to be the last one there, wanted to see if he could help the girl a little. Luckily, Pansy Disapparated without asking him to come with her. Draco was alone in the dark shop.
He ran over to the prone girl and turned her stiff body over. Her head was bleeding badly, freely, her eyes rolled up into her head.
There were at least a dozen pops behind Draco; he spun around, expecting to see the Confederates standing there with their arms folded.
Instead, a group of Aurors and Healers had arrived. The Healers ran to the family lying at the bottom of the staircase. Draco saw Greengrass standing by the cash register and went over to her.
“Why didn’t you intervene?” he said. “That girl might die.”
Greengrass’s face was hard. “Go home, Malfoy. We’re handing this over to the Magical Law Enforcement Squad. I’ll meet with you in the morning.”
She turned to another Auror, but Draco grabbed her arm and spun her back around.
“Listen to me,” he said. “I’ve done what you asked. but I will not””
“Go home,” said Greengrass. “And do not touch me like that.”
She turned away, back to her colleagues.
Draco Disapparated. He felt a weight on his shoulders that he had not felt for six years. The guilt that came with being responsible for harming the innocent.
But he had lived with that guilt for a long time now. He could live with it a little longer.