Percy Jackson and the Locket of Salazar

11) Plan Lie to Harry Commences (Again)

I think the crickets were just singing in my head, probably to relieve me from the trauma brought on by the sudden silence of Harry's statement, because as soon as Ron erupted into laughter, the bugs' music disappeared entirely.

"Malfoy?" Ron cried between laughs. "He's sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?"

In spite of Ron's laughter, I suddenly felt sick. I'd known Draco was working with the Death Eaters, and I knew why, but the thought of him being made into one instead of just working with them made goosebumps erupt on my arms. Worst part of it was, it was pretty likely. Sure, Draco was only sixteen, but by demigod standards, that was pretty old. He was easily the most powerful person I knew, and it made sense for Voldemort to capitalize on that skill, young or not.

"It seems very unlikely, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "What makes you think —?"

"In Madam Malkin's," Harry continued, "she didn't touch him, but he yelled and jerked his arm away from him when she went to roll up his sleeve. It was his left arm. He's been branded with the Dark Mark."

Ron and Hermione shared an uncomfortable look. I was more suspicious of the possibility than they were, especially as I wouldn't have the chance to ask Draco until we could meet in private, but for the time being, I could pretend to agree with them.

"Self preservation isn't a crime." I flippantly picked up one of Ron's comics that had been left scattered around the room. "He hurt his arm in the war. I doubt it's healed properly, and having Malkin poke and prod at it certainly wouldn't do him any good. Besides, he wanted out of the joint, Harry."

"He showed Borgin something we couldn't see." Harry ignored my evidence in favor of procuring some of his own. "Something that seriously scared Borgin. It was the Mark, I know it — he was showing Borgin who he was dealing with, you saw how seriously Borgin took him!"

"I'm not sure, Harry..." Hermione frowned.

"Yeah, I still don't reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join..."

Harry, red in the face, clambered off the bed and scooped up his Quidditch robes, marching out of the room while announcing he needed to do laundry.

Ron shifted mood immediately, the disbelief falling away with something pained. "Is he a Death Eater, Percy?"

Hermione looked a little surprised. "Surely not! He's not even in his seventh year...."

"I don't know," I answered Ron's question. "In all honesty? Probably. I doubt Voldemort would just let his talents go to waste."

"But he's just sixteen!" Hermione gaped at me. "And recently turned, too, his birthday wasn't even two months ago!"

"He was just sixteen when he led a war with me, Hermione. Age has no claim over Draco's capabilities. He is stronger than any other Death Eater. He's young, but he's powerful; does Voldemort really seem to be the kind of guy who cares for someone's young age when he's searching for power?"

Hermione's lip wobbled, then she let out a sigh. "You're right. But why did you lie to Harry?"

"Draco is a double agent, we all know that," I said. "Except for Harry. Harry's going to do whatever he can to get in Draco's way, because he doesn't know Draco's secretly on our side. In his attempts of heroism he's going to make things worse for everyone. If he doubts Draco's allegiance to the Dark Arts, then maybe he'll be more inclined to hold back."

"I hope this war ends soon." Ron groaned.

"Yeah," I said, sighting, "me too."

***