The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy

Chapter 5: At the Hogwarts Gate

Draco was bleeding. He could feel the bead of blood, hot and wet, working its way down from his temple. A chair had clipped his forehead as he'd dived to the ground at the Burrow.

He took an uncertain step, blinking in the harsh sunlight, trying to compose himself.

Around him, the Gryffindors were getting their bearings, too. Weasley was twisting his golden watch around his wrist over and over, the only thing he wore that looked remotely new. Potter, still disguised as the Weasley cousin, was wiping the smears from his glasses; his hands were steady, but his whole body was rigid. Granger was looking down into Hogsmeade Village, breathing shallowly, her hair moving gently in the mountain wind.

Draco saw them as if through glass. His mind was fixed on his parents, still in disguise as Muggles, standing beneath the marquee. He'd caught a single glimpse of them, both looking around for him with terror on their faces...

That was before she had seized his arm.

"Granger," he said. His voice was hard and cold, shaking slightly. "What is this? Are you Confunded? My parents are back there. Why did you bring me here?"

Granger's eyes flashed. "Why do you think I did it? Just look at yourself."

He glanced down and received a shock. His robes were several inches too short, and his hands were back to normal, no longer stubby workman's hands but long and pale, still twitching with adrenalin.

He hadn't even realized he'd returned to his own body. Suddenly the terror on his parents' face seemed to mean something very different. In the panic, had he somehow missed the feeling of transformation? How long, exactly, had he been himself?

There had been Death Eaters in that tent. As he thought of them, his stomach squeezed so violently that he felt sick. "Did anyone see me?" he choked out. "Did the—the Death Eaters—"

"No," Granger said. "Your hair had only just started to change when we left."

Draco narrowed his eyes, studying her. Though obviously still irritated that he'd snapped at her, she looked certain. "All right," he said. He moved one palm up his forehead, wiping the streak of blood and pushing back his hair, which had become thin and smooth again. "Fine, then. I'll... I'll disguise myself and we'll go back."

"Go—what?" Granger said.

"Yeah," said another voice. Potter had turned to them both. Behind his freckles, his skin was white. "As fast as we can."

Now panic had appeared on Granger's face. "Harry, no. You can't go back, it'll put them in so much more danger. You have to stay." She looked back to Draco. "Both of you."

"I just said, my parents are still there," Draco said, his voice rising again. "Did you somehow not notice the Death Eaters? They could have—they could already—" He lost his voice in the images. His parents tortured on the parquet floors like that Muggle man. His mother bound, his father cut apart. He forced his mouth shut, but the others didn't notice. Potter was talking now:

"Ginny's there, Hermione. Ginny's there, and—and everyone, and we're supposed to leave her with a bunch of—?"

"Hermione's right," Weasley interrupted.

Potter stared at Weasley, looking slightly betrayed. "Ron—"

"I know, mate. I know. But most of the Order was there, they'll look after everyone."

"Oh, yeah?" Draco said. "And what about my family? The Order don't care about them, none of you care. They'll get handed over in a second if I—"

"We don't care?" Granger said, her hair seeming to fluff out in fury. "Right, of course. That must be why Remus and Tonks refused to help save your mother, and why Dedalus and Hestia refused to break your father out of Azkaban, and why I let you three get caught at Grimmauld Place, and why the Weasleys all refused to harbor you at their house, and why Kingsley refused to help smuggle you out of the country. All of that must be because we don't care."