The Other Potter: Book 6

ALL ABOARD!

As soon as we arrived back at the burrow, we were ‘packing our new things’ so Harry, Ron and Hermione filled me in on all the details of what Malfoy was up to.

“-He was buying something at Borgan and Burkes-“

“-It must have been something big-“

“-He didn’t want to carry it down the street-“

“-Something bad!”

After a few days, it seemed like it was the only thing Harry wanted to discuss.

“Yes, I’ve already agreed it was Salmony, Harry,” said Hermione a little impatiently.

“Salmony?” I asked.

“I didn’t want to say fish.” She explained. She was sitting on the windowsill in Fred and George’s room with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had looked up from her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation. “But haven’t we agreed there could be a lot of explanations?”

I lay on my back on the dusty floor, flickering through my new potions book. It was heavy, and I was going to drop it at any moment.

 “Maybe he’s broken his Hand of Glory.” said Ron vaguely; as he attempted to straighten his broomstick’s bent tail twigs. “Remember that shrivelled-up arm Malfoy had?”

“But what about when he said, ‘Don’t forget to keep that one safe’?” asked Harry for the millionth time. “That sounded to me like Borgin’s got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both.”

“You reckon?” I said, accidentally dropping the book on my face. “Oww.”

 “Yeah, I do,” said Harry, who was sitting next to me, as he lifted the book off my face. When no one spoke, he said, “Malfoy’s father’s in Azkaban. Don’t you think Malfoy’d like revenge?”

Ron looked up, blinking.

“Malfoy, revenge? What can he do about it?”

“That’s my point, I don’t know!” said Harry, frustratedly dropping the book back on my head. “Sorry-“ he said to me, re-removing the book and placing it beside me. I rolled over, and casually stared under Fred’s bed. “But he’s up to something and I think we should take it seriously. His father’s a Death Eater and …”

“Harry?” said Hermione in an anxious voice. “What’s wrong?”

He was probably staring off into the distance with his mouth hanging open. I looked over. He was.

“Your scar’s not hurting again. Is it?” asked Ron nervously.

“No Harry. Malfoy is not a death eater.” I said, reading him like a book, as I sat up again and placed my feet, with their newly fluffy slippers, onto a box.

The box was empty and flattened with the weight of my feet, so I lay completely down again.

 “He is a Death Eater,” said Harry, staring at me as if to make my point invalid.

“No he isn’t.” I sighed.

“He is!”Harry said, as though it were fact. “He’s replaced his father as a Death Eater!”

“You, my dear, are so full of shit.” I smiled, as Ron burst out laughing.

“Malfoy? He’s sixteen, Harry! You think You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join?”

“It seems very unlikely, Harry,” said Hermione, quite brutally. “What makes you think … ?”

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