𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 32

Goyle's lips curled into a smile, and the sight of it made the fine hairs on the back of Hermione's neck stand on end. She squeezed Draco's hand, trying to tether herself to something outside of this nightmare. He returned the pressure.

Lucius's eyes narrowed at Goyle, and Hermione caught a flash of apprehension before it vanished in the pale slate. He knew something was wrong.

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "So what is it that's kept you from answering the Dark Lord's summons, Gregory?"

Goyle's smile fell slowly, mechanically — as if turned by an imaginary wheel. "I attempted to. But I couldn't risk entering the castle. There would be questions — if I was seen." His gaze drifted to a point on the opposite wall. "He must come to me here."

Hermione's mouth was dry as she glanced over her shoulder, looking around the shack. Why here?

"Who are you to request such things?" Lucius hissed.

She turned back in time to see Goyle's expression harden. "I must speak to him. Immediately."

Lucius scoffed, and Goyle stepped forward. Hermione's grip on Draco's hand tightened, and he angled himself in front of her.

"Why?" Lucius slowly shifted his weight to his back foot. "Why should he take orders from you — an insubordinate servant?"

Goyle's face swiveled to the only window, a sliver of moonlight striking against his eyes.

"Tell him I have something he needs." There was a stilted pause. "Tell him I've been doing a bit of..." His neck cracked, and his eyes slithered back to Lucius. "Soul searching."

Hermione felt her entire body tremble. A voice murmured in her ear, but she couldn't focus on what it was saying. She couldn't tear her gaze from Goyle.

No, not Goyle.

She could count on one hand the number of times she'd encountered him during the war, but she was certain that this man was not Gregory Goyle, Sr.

Her heart pounded in a deafening rhythm as she finally blinked and looked back to Lucius. His face was calm, but his muscles were rigid. His fingers were turning white on his wand handle.

"I will do my best, Gregory," he said lowly. "But the Dark Lord is out of the country for several days on an important errand. When he comes back..."

The scenery began to shift. She focused on the pressure of Draco's hand in hers as the gloomy shadows disintegrated, and the world rearranged itself in a blur of colors and patterns.

The Manor's library materialized before her eyes, and she felt like she could breathe again.

Lucius — the same from a few moments ago — was rushing inside, locking the doors behind him with a flick of his wand. His jaw was tight as he stepped up to the catalog, staring down at it. He opened his mouth — and closed it.

Hermione chewed her lip, her palm sweating against Draco's. She'd never seen Lucius Malfoy at a loss for words.

He cleared his throat and tilted his head. "Magical possession. Cross-reference with Dark Magic." The catalog glowed with dozens of green balls of light. Lucius scanned them quickly before adding, "Cross-reference with soul splitting."

One by one, the green orbs burnt out until only a single ball of light was left. And as blood rushed through her ears, Hermione watched Lucius follow the green light through the stacks and up to the book she knew was waiting for him. The three of them watched it slide out of its place on the third shelf, tucked between two large leather books.