𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐍 (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

CHAPTER 14

I walked into the Three Broomsticks to find Ron and Hermione sitting opposite each other on a table, separated from the rest of the room by a few lightly decorated Christmas trees. They waved me over and had their fingers to their mouths, telling me to be quiet as I scurried over to where they were sitting.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

But I hear a shush and I realise it's Harry from underneath the invisibility cloak, coming from where Ron was sitting. I plonked myself next to Hermione and that's when I heard a woman's voice ask, who I remembered was Madame Rosmerta, "How does that work, the Fidelius Charm?"

A small, high pitched voice replied, "An immensely complex spell involving the concealment of a secret inside a single, living soul. The information is hidden inside a Secret Keeper, and henceforth impossible to find – unless, of course, the Secret Keeper chooses to divulge it. As long as the Secret Keeper refused to speak, You-Know-Who could never find them, even if he had his nose pressed against their sitting-room window!"

"So Black was the Potters' Secret Keeper?" whispered Madame Rosmerta.

"Naturally," said Professor Mcgonagall. "Dumbledore was worried. I remember him offering to be the Potters' Secret Keeper himself."

"He suspected Black?" gasped Madame Rosmerta.

"Not Black particularly, but he was sure that someone close to the Potters' was revealing information about their movements to You-Know-Who. But James Potter insisted on Black."

"And then, barely a week after the Fidelius Charm had been performed, he betrayed him." It was the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "When his Master had fallen, it left Black in a very tricky position indeed, he had no choice but to run for it –"

"Filthy, stinkin' turnocoat!" yelled Hagrid. "I met him! I must've bin the last ter see him before he killed all them people! Jus' got Harry outta the ruins, poor little thing, with a great slash across his forehead, an' his parents dead ... an' Sirius Black turns up, on his flyin' motorbike he used ter ride. I didn' know he'd bin Lily an' James's Secret Keeper. White an' shakin' he was. An' yeh know what I did? I COMFORTED THE MURDERIN' TRAITOR!"

"Hagrid please!" said Mcgonagall. "Keep your voice down."

This scene always ruined me in the book. To think that self preservation and evil heralded over friendship and selflessness. I knew that I would never betray my friends and family, but now, I have to. Are people going to talk about me like this when they find out I have sided with Voldemort under Dumbledore's orders that I have been sworn to never reveal? When I have helped him return to power. When I have pushed the almost impossible task of defeating one of the most evil wizards of all time on a sixteen year old.[reminder, I changed their ages to fit the story] When my actions will cause so much death and destruction for the believed greater good.

A long silence followed Hagrid's story until Madame Rosmerta said with some satisfaction, "But the Ministry caught up with him the next day, right?"

"Alas, if only we had," said Fudge. "It was little Peter Pettigrew – another of the Potters' friends. Maddened by grief, no doubt, he went after Black himself."

"Stupid boy ... foolish boy. I was often rather sharp with him, I regret that now," sighed Mcgonagall who blew her nose.

"There, now, Minerva," comforted Fudge, "Pettigrew died a hero's death. Eye - witnesses, Muggles, told us how Pettigrew cornered Black. They say he was sobbing. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!" And then he went for his wand but Black was quicker. Blew Pettigrew to smithereens..."

Hermione gasped and put her hands over her mouth in shock.

"A finger, that's all that was left," continued Fudge.

"I tell yeh, if I'd got ter Black before Pettigrew did, I wouldn't've messed with wands – I'd've ripped him limb – from – limb," Hagrid growled.

Madame Rosmerta let out a long sigh, "Is it true he's mad, Minister?"

This, I was rather intrigued with.

"I wish I could say that he was," said Fudge slowly. "I certainly believe his Master's death left him unhinged for a little bit. Yet, I met Black on my last inspection of Azkaban and was shocked at how normal Black seemed. He spoke so rationally to me, asking if I was done with my newspaper and missed completing the crossword, it was unnerving. And his, was the most guarded cell in Azkaban!"

"And this is not even the worst," said Mcgonagall somberly as she was walking out of the pub with Flitcwick, Hagrid and Fudge.

"What could be worse?" asked Madame Rosmerta.

"Sirius Black was, and remains to this day, Harry Potter's godfather," Mcgonagall whispered.

Harry kicked his chair back and ran, with the rest of us following his footsteps imprinted in the snow. Hermione and Ron were ahead of me and in my attempt to catch up to them, I collided into someone, grabbing onto their arm to keep from falling over. I realised it was Cedric Diggory again and his glass of butterbeer now in the snow.

"Sorry," I yelled behind me, sprinting away before he could utter a response.

"HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!" yelled a voice, full of raw emotion.

Hermione was kneeling in front of Harry and Ron was standing next to him, trying to comfort Harry.

"I hope he finds me," snarled Harry. "Because when he does, I am going to be ready. When he does ... I am going to kill him."

No one said anything, but as I heard the light howl of the wind rustle the trees and bushes covered in a veil of snow, I could've sworn I saw a dark tail in the distant shadows.

"Harry," I said quietly. "Let's take you back to Hogwarts."

He said nothing as he stood up, throwing the invisibility cloak over himself and trudged back to the trapdoor underneath the cellar in Honeydukes in complete silence. I trailed a few paces behind him, giving him the time to reflect.

***

Back in the dorms, warm and bundled in blankets in front of the blazing fire, I wrote to Dumbledore telling him that Harry now knows the secret about Black. I quickly received a response with nothing but;

You won't have another lesson until after the Christmas break.

Is that all he really had to say?

I threw the letter into the fire and watched the flames consume the parchment, a thick burning smell hanging in the air, leaving nothing but ash in its wake.