Away Childish Things

Chapter 4

On Sunday morning Draco said, "I think we need to take another trip, Harry."

Not finished with breakfast yet, Harry was still stuffing toast with jam in his mouth. "Where?" he said, his mouth full of crust.

"The Ministry for Magic."

After chewing a bit more, Harry finally managed to swallow. "I thought you said old-me said he couldn't trust people there."

"Yes," Draco said, picking up his dishes with his wand and taking them to the sink. "That's why we're going to use disguises."

Harry, who had been about to bite off another bit of toast, paused, took the toast back away from his mouth, and said, "Disguises?"

"Yes." Draco Scourgified the dishes clean and began to put them away by hand. "I've great ones in mind."

"What do they look like?" Harry asked, trying not to sound too excited, even though he was.

Finally, Draco turned around. "Us."

"What?"

Pointing his wand at the table, Draco cleared the jam and butter as well, turning to put them away. Coming back to the table, he fussed with the placemat, cleaning it with his wand even though it didn't look dirty to Harry. Then he put his wand away, then took it out again.

Draco didn't always like to answer questions, Harry had noticed, but unlike Uncle Vernon, he never told Harry not to ask. Harry was pretty sure Draco was going to have to explain this one though, so Harry waited quietly until Draco huffed and sat down.

"Do you remember all the files at Number Twelve?"

"Yes," Harry said warily. "You said there wasn't anything there."

"I said you might have been cross-referencing something," Draco said. "Some files that weren't there. It occurs to me-it occurred to me-that those files might be at the Ministry, but if they were there . . . if they were there they would most likely be at your desk."

"I have a desk?" Harry perked up. Having a desk made him sound pretty important.

Draco smiled faintly, just a twist at the side of his mouth. "Yes, Harry, you have a desk."

"We're going to see it?"

"That's just it, Harry." Draco was playing with the placemat again, his wand making the fringe at the edges dance. "The only person who would reasonably be going through your desk is you."

"I'll do it," Harry said, because even though desks were boring, it was a police desk, and it belonged to a grown-up him. He wondered if he had handcuffs in it. Magic handcuffs.

"Right," Draco said. "Only-if a ten-year-old Harry Potter was seen going through his desk, it might . . . provoke inquiry."

Harry was pretty sure 'provoke inquiry' meant people asking questions, and anyway he understood what the problem was, if Draco thought they couldn't trust anyone else.

"And I need to be with you," Draco said, "because I read those other files, and I have a better idea of what to look for. Also, I know more about the wizarding world and could more easily field questions from anyone who stops us. Therefore, it makes sense if . . ." Trailing off, he fiddled with the placemat some more, and Harry felt his heart sink.