Frainey fanart for this chapter was made by https://www.quotev.com/sophiesophiewinters
"How did you steal my wand from Bellatrix?" I asked Draco Malfoy as the two of us stalked through Diagon Alley toward the Leaky Cauldron.
"It wasn't very hard," he grunted lowly, his eyes darting around the street for signs of other life. "She doesn't sleep with it. Sure, she gloated about having stolen your wand for a while. She was rather proud for a few weeks, claiming that by stealing your wand she'd prevented you from doing anything stupid or brave, but then when Rookwood informed us that you'd managed to erase your brothers' memories and relocate them, she dropped the subject completely."
"Rookwood," I muttered with pure loathing. "I assume he's apprehended my brothers, then? He's brought them back to Voldemort so that they can be murdered?"
"No," Malfoy snapped as he glared over at me with narrowed eyes. "Urquhart was right when he said you'd become a cynical bitch."
"You gossip with Urquhart about me now, do you?"
"No, I only asked him if he knew where you were when I saw him earlier," Malfoy explained defensively. He avoided my eyes now as he looked ahead at the brick wall that separated the Alley from the Leaky Cauldron. "I understand now that losing a family member can...change a person... My father—"
"Oh shut up. You don't know anything," I barked with intended harshness. "I'm sure your father will be broken out of Azkaban as soon as Voldemort rises to power."
Malfoy's grey eyes lit up as his head spun toward me. "You Saw that?"
"No," I blurted, startled by his assumption. "Er—no. But if I do I'll, uh—I'll let you know." I stared down at the stone ground for a few moments, feeling ashamed, before I finally asked, "So, if Voldemort's not going to kill my brothers, what does he plan to do with them?"
"Nothing that I know of," Malfoy responded as he resumed his apathetic demeanor. "Rookwood was tracking your brothers for a long time, but he's not anymore."
"What's he doing now?"
"He's waiting," Malfoy said simply as we halted in front of the brick wall. I expected him to take out his wand and tap on the bricks, but he didn't have to before they began to shift and clear a path.
"What's he waiting for?" I questioned impatiently.
Malfoy nodded his head toward the open pathway between the bricks, at the center of which there was a hooded man whose pock-covered face I could recognize even in the night's dim lighting.
"You ugly-ass prat!" I exclaimed before lunging myself at the ever-complacent Rookwood. He remained completely still as Malfoy grabbed my arm and forcefully yanked me back.
"Let me go!" I shouted as I tried to wrench myself from Malfoy's grip. "He helped kill Lyle! He's evil—he's a murderer—"
"If I'm not mistaken, you aided in the murder of your brother as well," Rookwood cut in with an unctuous tone. I snarled before relinquishing my struggles and merely glaring at him with passionate enmity.
"You're hideous, you know," I spat at him. "Inside and out. I'm glad that James Potter made your face look just as foul as your soul. Say, is that why you wanted to join Voldemort? To avenge your face by killing James Potter's kid? Very noble of you, Rookwood."
Rookwood's lips pursed, but he did not make a response to acknowledge my taunting. "We must depart. The Dark Lord will be waiting."
"Oh, we wouldn't want to keep someone so wonderful and respectful waiting," I retorted with a tone drenched in sarcasm.
Unamused, Rookwood turned on his heel and stalked back into the Leaky Cauldron, and Malfoy dragged me along. The pub was emptier than I'd ever witnessed, and we approached the fireplace without raising the attention of any of the drunken wizards and witches present.
"Draco will go first," Rookwood announced as he let a fistful of Floo Powder trickle into Malfoy's hand. "Lainey will follow. If you state that the Floo Powder should bring you to a different address, I will hear you and I will follow you. My instructions of what to do with you if you do not comply are not pleasant."
"Where are we going?" I asked flatly.
Malfoy smirked with pride before stepping into the fireplace and answering, "Malfoy Manor."
I staggered backward when he green flames engulfed him, and I found myself unable to breathe as I watched him disappear in the fire. I had hated the Floo Network before, but my feelings toward it now extended to a completely different level.
Rookwood righted me and placed a pile of Floo Powder in my hands without inquiring about my sudden apprehensiveness.
I cleared my throat and then asked rather snidely, "They call their house 'Malfoy Manor'? Well, isn't that the least arrogant thing I've ever heard."
Rookwood remained silent as he nudged me toward the fireplace. With a shaky breath, I stepped in and closed my eyes, bracing myself not for the nausea, but for the terrible images that fire produced in my brain.
"Malfoy Manor," I proclaimed clearly as I dropped the soot. Even through my eyelids the light of the flames protruded, and as I whizzed through the Floo Network I thought of nothing but death.
My body shot out of a fireplace that was arguably larger than the one at the Leaky Cauldron. With my eyes still closed, I flung into a body and landed on the wooden floor with a thud. As my eyes blinked rapidly, I managed to get a clearer image of the drawing room I was in: the dark, lengthy table accompanied with antique chairs, the chandeliers and the torches that lined the walls, along with the sullen portraits of the Malfoy family. And then, when my vision finally focused, I saw that the actual Malfoy family was here—er—Draco and Narcissa, anyway. Beyond them stood Bellatrix, smirking as evilly as ever, a few masked Death Eaters, and then, seated at the head of the grand table, was the slimy snake that fed off of destruction.
I barely noticed Rookwood emerge from the fireplace behind me. All of my attention was aimed at Voldemort, who was sitting with a sense of control as his groveling little followers surrounded him.
"We are all present now," Voldemort announced tonelessly. "Thank you, Draco, for your service... You all may take your seats."
Silently, each Death Eater complied, resuming a seat that had most likely been assigned, until every chair was filled except for the two on either side of Voldemort. Malfoy and I were the only people left standing.
"We have had to shorten the table recently, due to the events at the Ministry not long ago," Voldemort explained. "Many of our numbers have been sent back to Azkaban, or perhaps were sentenced for the first time..."
Malfoy shifted awkwardly where he stood next to me, though we both remained quiet.
"But, where there is failure in the old generation, there is hope in the new one," he went on, staring directly at us. He smiled darkly as he said, "Sit, both of you."
Reluctantly, I took the closest seat on Voldemort's left, while Malfoy nervously scurried over to the empty seat on his right. Every other person was postured with attentiveness, staring expectantly at their Dark Lord, while I simply slouched back and examined my nails in a fashion of boredom. I realized when I glanced briefly at Rookwood, who sat at my left, that he had his wand out and ready beneath the table; I was not trusted here, and without logical sense. To try to attack Voldemort here, among all of his free followers, would require stupidity and a death wish...both of which I did seem to have a history of...so I supposed it was reasonable for Rookwood to be wary...but it was still embarrassing that they all thought so lowly of me. Yes, when Malfoy had told me he would bring me to Voldemort, I'd originally planned to just barge in here and attack everyone in sight, but upon arriving here disorientated, I knew it would be rash and illogical. Killing Voldemort was not an act that could be done out of emotional rage. I would need to be tactful but also spontaneous, picking the precise time to strike, even if it was not the time that I wished to strike. As I had been practicing over the past month, I had to be emotionless, and I would have to be without vengefulness to find revenge.
"This day has been anticipated for quite some time," Voldemort said, gazing mostly at me. "Many among us have never met a Seer... Predict something for us, Lainey."
I swallowed my contempt, and then very hollowly said, "One day, all of you Death Eaters will die, and your leader with you, and that day will be the next day that I feel true happiness."
There was a pause in which Voldemort's pompous demeanor did not waver, and then, the sound of Bellatrix's cackles split my eardrums.
"Silly—Silly girl!" she snickered wildly. "To deny the rising power of the Dark Lord—"
"Very foolish, yes," Voldemort cut in dryly. His snake-like eyes studied me for a moment before he continued with, "Is there anything else you wish to say?"
"There are many things I would like to say," I replied as my cool gaze fell on Narcissa where she sat next to her son. "First, I would like to say that this house is magnificent, and it's really a shame that a family as rotten as yours is inhabiting it."
Bellatrix, on the other side of her sister, opened her mouth to shrill, but Voldemort held up a simple hand that commanded her not to explode.
"Go on, Lainey," Voldemort encouraged. "We are all very eager to hear what you have to say."
With a courteous nod to Voldemort, I then pivoted my head left toward Rookwood and said, "I would rather see my mother die than be with filth like you. Her fate pleases me more than her life with you would have."
Rookwood's nose twitched, but he did not revile.
"Hash words, Lainey," Voldemort hissed with a sinister simper. "Surely your mother's death displeases you in the sense that her rebellion led to the death of your precious Muggle family."
A few Death Eaters sniggered at this, but I composed a neutral expression. I was not miffed by the fact that the Death Eaters mocked my family; this I expected. What surprised me was that Voldemort had said "your mother's death": I had forgotten that he did not know that she was alive. My vision of Lucius telling him that he had killed her was true, and Voldemort had never discovered that she was mutilated but alive in a distant care facility.
"No," I replied blankly to Voldemort's statement. "I'm glad that two of my Muggle family are dead. Muggles are useless. That is why I have killed my two remaining brothers."
"We know that to be false," Voldemort retorted without a sense of questioning. "Rookwood tracked down your remaining Muggles when you sent them away. You cannot evade us, Lainey."
"I gave them a lethal poison," I explained with as much calmness as I could muster. If Rookwood really knew where my brothers were, my whole plan had been for nothing. Voldemort would find them and kill them, and maybe kill Bethanne's family as well. Nausea was rising in my stomach, but I kept it hidden. The charade must go on.
"I put a Muggle girl under the Imperius Curse and had her bring them far away so I would be bothered with them no longer," I went on. "The poison takes time to set in. They should be dead within weeks from now."
Voldemort's eyebrowless brow narrowed, though he still did not seem convinced. "Your lies are well rehearsed. You posed too much of a struggle with your twin's death for me to believe you feel true hatred toward all Muggles. And, you had no wand. Is there anything else you wish to say?"
"There are quite a few things I would care to say to you," I said as my resentful eyes glared at him. "But I suppose the most pressing issue that we have now is the fact that your fingernails are even longer than mine, and I find that more revolting than your lack of a nose—"
"Bella," Voldemort snarled before I even realized that she'd jumped up from her chair and aimed her wand at me. "Wand away. We will settle this diplomatically—"
"Insulting the Dark Lord!" she shrilled, keeping her wand trained on me. "She's a dirty half-blood! She's barely a witch! She deserves—"
"She will get what she deserves," Voldemort insisted before raising his own wand from beneath the table. Bellatrix quickly scrambled to sit down, and every person at the table, except for myself, sat up straighter.
"When I first learned of your existence, it was death that I wished upon you," Voldemort told me in a methodical tone as his wand retreated. "But, I quickly discovered that I could use you to my advantage... We have never had a Seer among our ranks, and to have one would ensure that we are always one step ahead of our opponents..."
"What part of killing my father and my brother would make me want to join you?" I questioned as the venomous spite surfaced in my voice.
"You would never have joined me before. You were too innocent and too stupidly bold... Now you know what will happen if you do not obey my commands. Your father's death was a demonstration. Your brother's death was a consequence. Your remaining brothers are merely vessels I will use to secure your loyalty to me."
The fury festering within me erupted as I sprung forward in my seat and leaned toward Voldemort, glowering into his eyes with pure loathing. "Why do you hate me so much? Because my mother didn't bring your sorry ass back to life ten years ago? I had nothing to do with that—though I would have made the same decision as she did. So, now that you know where my loyalty lies, kill me. Just kill me. I'm less of a use to you than my mother was. All I predict is the outcomes of Quidditch matches. My mother could have healed you and you had her murdered. Why did you ask Lucius to kill her, hm? You could have used her—"
"I had to make an example of her," Voldemort interrupted slowly as his eyes fell for a brief moment on Narcissa. Her jaw had dropped, I now noticed, but she quickly regained composure with the Dark Lord's glance. Narcissa, apparently, hadn't known that Lucius had been the one to "kill" my mother—her good friend.
"Others had to know what would become of them if they did not succumb to my will," Voldemort continued in a louder tone. "I knew she would never help me, and a being that powerful cannot exist if it is not on my side—"
"Why didn't you put her under the Imperius Curse?" I questioned over his grandiose speech. "Why didn't you ask Lucius to—"
"Silly girl, do you know nothing?" Voldemort spat with a deriding laugh. "Gaudiums cannot be put under the Imperius Curse. To kill her was my only option. But, for you—my control over you is very strong, and you will bend to my will, even if it costs you the lives of your two remaining Muggles in the process..."
My lips pursed but remained silent as I waited for him to continue.
"There is someone that I have wanted to kill for a long time... Do you know who that is?"
"Harry," I answered immediately, though this only made the Death Eaters chortle.
"Harry Potter, yes, but who must I kill in order to get to Harry Potter?"
Who was standing in between Voldemort and Harry, I wondered, as my brow creased. Then, it dawned on me, and I blurted, "Dumbledore."
"Yes, yes," Voldemort hissed greedily. "Dumbledore is the one I next wish to kill... But, I do not have access to him as easily as some...as easily as you."
My eyes protruded as my heart sunk into my stomach. "You want...me to kill Dumbledore?"
"That was the original plan, yes. You would kill Dumbledore to prove your allegiance to me. But, given Lucius Malfoy's recent disappointment at the Ministry, I have decided to place this burden on another." Voldemort's cold gaze fell on the two Malfoys, and Draco's face paled to an even whiter shade than usual. "Draco, you will be tasked with the assassination of Albus Dumbledore. Lainey Fitzroy will be your servile assistant."
I was now the one to let out a ridiculing snicker. "Good joke. I'm never helping anyone kill Dumbledore. I'm never helping anyone kill anyone. I may not be innocent or nice anymore, but I'm not evil. You can try as hard as you want, but you'll never make me be like you."
"Ah, but this is not an offer you can refuse," Voldemort insisted as his icy gaze fell back on me.
"I do refuse, so kill me. You've got nothing on me anymore. As Rookwood knows, my brothers are far, far away, and if even if he did manage to find them, they're protected in other ways that you'll never penetrate," I lied rather convincingly. I was not sure that Bethanne's magical relatives had successfully managed to conceal my brothers with charms, but Voldemort had to be persuaded that they were unattainable.
"Is this true, Rookwood? The Muggle boys have not been apprehended?" Voldemort prompted as he raised his eyes toward Rookwood.
Swallowing and fidgeting nervously, Rookwood bowed his head as he said, "It is true, my Lord. I—I lost the boys when they fled the country."
Voldemort's face hardened with indignation, but he did not lash out. "Do you know, Rookwood, what I do to those who are unable to satisfy my commands? I do to them what they were instructed to do to someone else."
"Yes—yes, my Lord," Rookwood stammered, quivering as his head drooped even further.
"And, do you know what I had planned for the Muggles?"
"T-torture...and confinement...my Lord..."
Immense relief washed through me at the prospect that Rookwood had not found my brothers, and that he would suffer their fate instead. Voldemort's "deal" of bribing me to kill Dumbledore by threatening my brothers was slowly turning in my favor. I would not have to bear the murder task, and I may actually receive my wish of death that would relieve me of my guilt.
"Yes, torture and confinement," Voldemort confirmed with no remorse. "Shall we begin now?"
"Wait—wait, my Lord," Rookwood pleaded as Voldemort drew his bone-like wand. "I do not have the Muggles—but—but I do have other information that we can use against Fitzroy!"
My heart froze and my lips parted in astonishment as I stared at Rookwood, who trembled with pleading eyes beside me.
"Well," Voldemort said, still holding his wand loosely in Rookwood's direction, "what is it?"
"Lisa—the Gaudium—she is still alive," Rookwood cried desperately. "Malfoy did not kill her as you instructed, my Lord. He only tortured her to rid her of her power so no one could use her. But—but she still has some power, my Lord. She shows signs of recovery when I am with her. You cannot dispose of me—she can be of use—"
Voldemort violently stood from his chair to tower over us with one arm extended menacingly toward Rookwood. "You have known of Lucius's betrayal and Lisa's life for ten years and you have not told me of it? You have known of her potential power and you have not informed me? You have lied to me? You have betrayed—"
"Please, my Lord," Rookwood sobbed, his head hanging low. "I have only learned of her potential power this morning—when I went to v-visit her... I had a small cut—and she was able to heal it. She is able to heal no one else at this time, my Lord. Sh-she is very weak, my Lord. But we may be able to restore her—"
Without a word, Voldemort cast a spell on Rookwood that immediately threw him off of his chair and caused him to curl up on the floor beside me, wailing and screaming as he writhed in pain. It was the Cruciatus Curse, I knew, but unlike the other times I'd seen the curse being used, I felt no sympathy or revulsion to it. Rookwood had just told Voldemort the one secret that I still held from him, and if what he said was true about my mother's small power, Voldemort would find a way to use this for himself and against me.
After a few long minutes, during which Rookwood's shrieks reverberated throughout the house and no one dared to wince except Draco, Voldemort dropped his hold on Rookwood, who was left whimpering at my feet.
"This," Voldemort proclaimed in an ominous voice, "is what will become of those who lie to the Dark Lord. This is what will become of those who betray the Dark Lord." His eyes lingered down on me as he added, "You have been warned... Selwyn, Travers, if you would bring Rookwood to the cellar. When he returns to his senses, inform him that he will be remaining there because of his crimes against me."
Two Death Eaters that I recognized from the night of Lyle's death rose from their seats and came to retrieve Rookwood. I felt nothing when they dragged him down the grand staircase to my right and into the cellar.
"Now that I know of your mother's life, I can very easily take it from her if you do not willingly serve me," Voldemort drawled as he resumed his seat.
"I don't see how my service will be willing if you're threatening me into it," I retorted irritably.
"Darkness has already found you, foolish girl," he sneered with malicious glee. "It is only a matter of time before you succumb to it..."
I licked my lips and eyed him shrewdly. "Fine, if this is how you want to play it, here's the deal: I assist Draco in killing Dumbledore, and if we succeed, you promise never to touch a member of the Fitzroy family again. Not magically, not physically, not mentally. You'll leave us alone entirely."
Voldemort let out a sadistic laugh and his followers cackled along. "You do not pose deals here. You will assist Draco in killing Dumbledore, and if you succeed, I will spare the lives of you and your mother. To save your mother's life, you will also obey any other orders I give, as well as report any visions you See. If this does not sway you, perhaps I can also threaten the life of your dear uncle. Werewolves are useful to our cause, and, unlike Gaudiums, they can fall prey to the Imperius Curse. Perhaps we will have him kill your mother for us."
Bellatrix laughed rather loudly at that, and I gritted my teeth very hard to hold back my fury.
Once Voldemort recomposed his seriousness, he spoke to the entire group in saying, "Our young recruits will have until this term's final exams at Hogwarts to complete the task of assassinating Albus Dumbledore. Failure for Draco will result in the death of his immediate family, and failure for Lainey will result in the death of her mother and brothers, as well as the capture and utilization of her werewolf uncle."
Everyone present seemed to agree on this, although the two Malfoys were staring down at the table with anxiety. I was the only person who was particularly livid, though I assumed if Snape were here, he would be as well... Why wasn't he here? Wasn't he supposed to pretend to be one of Voldemort's followers? If he were here, would he help me at all? I supposed the question wasn't would he, but would he be able to get me out of this horrid situation. And I knew the answer was no. I was the only person who could stop myself from aiding in Voldemort's plans, and to do so could mean the demise of four people that I loved. I knew that many would probably die because of me if I conformed to Voldemort's wishes, but I couldn't let that concern me. My sole purpose and focus had always been on protecting my family, and I'd failed too many times to let it happen again.
"As a sign of your commitment to me, you will both be bound by a magical oath," Voldemort explained as his dark eyes gleamed with malicious excitement. "And...a magical mark."
Malfoy nodded wordlessly as I blinked.
"Now?"
"Yes," Malfoy hissed at me from across the table as Voldemort stood.
"Rise," the Dark Lord commanded, and like robots his Death Eaters obeyed. "Bella, if you would move Narcissa to the next room—"
"I would like to stay, my Lord," Narcissa said as she bowed her head. Voldemort acted as though she said nothing and nodded his head toward Bellatrix so that she would execute his command.
Once the sisters had left the drawing room, Voldemort drew his wand in a motion that caused the table and chairs to fly across the room and land against the far wall, leaving a large empty area in which the remaining Death Eaters formed a circle. As I attempted to process what was happening, I noticed that they all now wore their hoods up, and beneath the hoods their shadowed faces were covered with silver masks.
"Come, join me in the center," Voldemort beckoned as he swayed into the circle. With one simple wave of his wand, all of the torches on the walls extinguished, leaving the only light source to be the lit-up wands of the Death Eaters.
I glanced over at Malfoy as he followed his master into the circle. He was not trembling or nervous like before. He held a demeanor of pride and anticipation; he had known this day was coming. Though I had Seen Malfoy with the Dark Mark, I had never considered the idea of acquiring one myself; I was petrified.
"Fitzroy," Malfoy hissed at me once he was standing alone next to Voldemort. I took in a deep breath and then yanked up my left sleeve as I stalked into the circle.
"I'll become a part of your evil, prejudice cult, but I'm not doing it for you," I spat at Voldemort as I shoved my forearm in his face. "I'm doing this for the people that I love, and you can't even begin to understand what that means."
No refute was made to this claim as Voldemort grabbed my forearm in his long, thin fingers and then jabbed his boney wand into my skin. The non-verbal spell that he used cut deep into my flesh, immediately evoking a stream of blood to the surface. The Dark Lord stared at me expectantly, assuming I would scream or cry or even wince, but I did not. Over the past few weeks I had realized that nothing could ever hurt worse than watching my brother burn alive, and I would not treat any other pain, physical or mental, with the same regard. And, of course, I would never allow Voldemort to receive the satisfaction of watching me suffer again.
When he finished, I saw, through the bloody mess that was my forearm, that he had engraved the Dark Mark: a skull with a coiling snake protruding from its mouth. The cut was deep, and it certainly wasn't a tattoo like I'd Seen on Malfoy's arm, but I did not question it as Voldemort began to slice the same symbol into a second forearm. Malfoy attempted to keep a neutral facial expression throughout the process, but his nose twitched, and then winced, and before the end he let out a small cry that aroused a sense of empathy within me that I could not dare to display.
"An oath must be said to heal the wound and complete the bondage," one Death Eater said tonelessly. "Repeat: I vow to follow the Dark Lord."
"I vow to follow the Dark Lord," I mumbled and Malfoy croaked.
"I vow to serve the Dark Lord."
"I vow to serve the Dark Lord," we repeated, and now, as Voldemort's face scrunched with puzzlement, I realized that our wounds should have been mending. These were deep, magical cuts, cuts that would need more than proximity between Malfoy and I to close.
"I vow to kill for the Dark Lord," the Death Eater said, and as he did, I inched toward Malfoy as discreetly as possible. The skin of my right forearm brushed up against his bloody left, and he nearly jumped.
"I vow to kill for the Dark Lord," I proclaimed loud enough for both of us, and Malfoy quickly muttered it afterward.
"I vow to die for the Dark Lord," the Death Eater concluded, and as Malfoy and I reluctantly repeated the words, the broken skin on our left forearms began to stitch back together, creating not a scar but a black tattoo. It was not stationary: it seemed to swim through the blood that still stained the rest of the arm. I was mesmerized by it, dazed by it, and repulsed by it all at the same time.
"You are one of us now," a different Death Eater said as he stepped out of the circle. From within his robes, he pulled out two silver masks that resembled the one on his own face. Malfoy and I each took one in our right hands, and I stared down at it blankly as vomit churned in my stomach.
There would be no redemption for this.
∆
Despite the life-altering events of that one fateful night, life at Malfoy Manor was particularly dull. Many of the Death Eaters dissipated after the ceremony, and even Voldemort had better places to be. Draco and I were left alone, essentially, with only his mother and aunt as company. Rookwood could be heard moaning from the cellar whenever we were in the drawing room, though I liked to avoid that room when I could anyway. It was a constant reminder of the tattoo that was scarred on my arm, the one that now stung even worse than the one behind my ear.
The women spent much of their time arguing in whispers. Draco and I spent much of our time on separate sides of the Manor's library, pretending as though we were alone. We silently agreed to play one game of wizard's chess, though upon Malfoy's victory, I realized that competitiveness did not agree with my necessary apathetic attitude. I was livid when I lost, and I could not allow myself to feel anger.
Four days after committing my life to the darkest wizard in existence, I decided that my brain couldn't handle monotony any longer, and I decided to confront Malfoy about it in the library. He was seated in a red, cushioned chair, placidly reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, and though I thought he had not noticed me approach, he spoke before I could even open my mouth.
"Did you read the Prophet this morning?" he asked without glancing up from the newspaper.
"No, I don't fancy hearing about what terrible things Voldemort and his groupies are doing," I retorted in a low tone.
"The Dark Lord," Malfoy corrected as he glowered up at me with impatience. "We are his groupies now, so you'd better start showing some respect, Fitzroy."
I rolled my eyes at him as I plopped down in an identical red chair that faced him. "Well, what does it say? What kind deeds has our master been carrying out?"
"I—I dunno," he stammered, clearing his throat as he skimmed over the page again. "It says that a short Death Eater has been seen torturing Muggles in London without probable cause."
"Not surprising," I snorted as I stared out the window at the backyard's gardens.
Malfoy's lips remained in a frown as he dropped the paper into his lap. "A short Death Eater. What Death Eaters are short?"
"I dunno, me, you... Okay, just me," I added when he raised his eyebrows. "I s'pose your aunt's not too tall, but she's been here..."
"So it wasn't a Death Eater," he concluded simply. "Just someone in a hood, and they decided to blame it on us."
"Don't say us," I grunted, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. "But who do you think would torture Muggles that's not a Death Eater? Anyone who hates Muggles that much would join the Dark Lord."
"Not everyone," he insisted, and when he cocked his head to the side and gave me a knowing look, I registered whom he was referring to.
"You think Melody's been running around London in a cloak and torturing people?" I clarified dubiously. "She...well...I guess she would do that... She'll be angry that they called her one of u—er, a Death Eater."
Malfoy's lips twitched upward slightly, but he made no comment.
"Is this just what you do here all the time? Read and play chess? Don't you wizarding families do any fun, recreational activities?"
"No," he snapped defensively. "We don't waste our time like Muggles. We read and learn—and my father promised to start training me with magic once I'm of age..."
"You'll be of age next summer, won't you?" I asked, eyeing him carefully as he stared out the window.
"Yes, and if we complete this task, perhaps the Dark Lord will break him out of Azkaban by then," Malfoy said roughly as he stood from his chair. "See you at dinner—"
"Hang on," I insisted, standing as I grabbed his right arm. "Let's go...let's go outside and play a sport."
"We don't have our brooms—"
"Not Quidditch... Let's play...let's play football," I suggested as my face scrunched into a grimace. "My—my brothers and I used to play all the time in the summers—"
"A Muggle sport?" Malfoy spat as his lips curled in disgust. "You want us to play a Muggle sport?"
"Yeah, it's fun, I promise. It's like...it's like Quidditch but without magic."
"Sounds horrible," he concluded flatly.
"And...with only one ball...and no brooms..."
"Even worse. Have fun by yourself—"
"Oh come on," I pleaded as I tugged on his arm. "Aren't you bored? I can't focus on reading anymore. All I can think about is my brother dying and this ugly mark on my arm and—and..."
"Your Weaselbee?" Malfoy offered in a taunting tone.
"Well...yes...and, uh, how I plan to break up with him," I finished with a small voice. "I can't put him in danger so...I s'pose the easiest way would be just to ignore him, but then I'm as bad as Anderson..."
"Oh, he finally broke up with his Weaselbee too? No surprise there, really..."
I scrunched my nose and slivered my eyes at him, but had no viable retort.
"All right," Malfoy sighed as he wiggled out of my grasp, "I'll play your dumb Muggle game with you."
I tried not to let my smile grow too wide as he followed me out into the yard. We quickly found a small open patch in the gardens, one that I'd seen through the window and had given me the idea of playing a bit of football.
"Where do you plan on getting this 'football'?" Malfoy questioned as I searched the garden with my eyes.
"Harper taught me how to transfigure a rock into a ball..." I replied absently as my eyes locked onto a rock in a flowerbed. Malfoy's eyes went wide when I slipped my wand out and then muttered a spell that transformed the small rock into an average-sized soccer football.
"You can't use magic outside of school—"
"I think the Ministry has more to worry about than a minor transfiguration spell," I assured him as I dropped the ball to the ground. "Fudge resigned, 'You-Know-Who's' back, and the whole Hall of Prophecy was trashed. They can't track it that specifically anyway. We'll just blame it on your mum."
He grumbled but didn't argue as I slipped my wand away and prepared the field.
Even though the two of us would just be shooting on each other through the goals that I'd set up with flowerpots, describing the game's rules to Malfoy was quite the challenge. He kept trying to pick up the ball and throw it at me, insisting that no sport is dumb enough to use only feet, but I assured him that that was the entire point of the game, and he had to comply by the rules. After some time, he finally grew accustomed to kicking the ball, and he managed to score a few goals (when I let them in). All was going well, and we were almost on the verge of laughing when I accidentally hit the ball with too much force, and it collided with one of the flowerpot goalposts. The crack of the clay and explosion of dirt was enough to throw Malfoy into a rage.
"Fitzroy!" he bellowed as he picked up the ball and chucked it at me. I caught it right before it hit my face and let out a breath.
"We can fix it, Malfoy," I reassured him, though he wasn't listening to me as he stomped in my direction. He seemed in the mood to strangle me, so I backed away, dropping the ball when my body hit the grey, brick wall of the Manor. It took all of my will to stifle a giggle when I noticed how red his face had grown.
"My mum's gonna kill me!" he shouted hotly. His body was much too close to mine, nearly pinning me against the wall. "She hates when her gardens get ruined!"
"Well, in that case, maybe I did it on purpose," I replied with a snort of amusement. My hand quickly covered my mouth, and I tried to avoid his eyes, but he was too close and it was too funny not to look.
"I'll kill you, Mudblood," he growled, though his face softened immediately after spewing the words.
"You can't call me that anymore," I breathed, lowering my hand while my smirk remained. "Everyone knows what I am now."
"I'll still call you 'Mudblood' if I want to," he informed me, though he did not seem very determined as his eyes distractedly flickered between my eyes and my lips. I'd seen this expression on his face before, too many times before, but it was far less aggressive than it had ever been. It was his lack of assertiveness that made me uncomfortable, but with the discomfort came desire; for a deranged moment, I wanted the same thing that Draco Malfoy wanted.
Ridiculous, how after only four days of having the Dark Mark I could become such a monster. I'd been rude to Fred for weeks, ignoring him, snubbing him, and though I'd never formally broken up with him, here I was, almost allowing another boy—another boy who had bullied me and harassed me for years—to kiss me. I found more guilt in this than I'd ever find in the prospect of murdering Albus Dumbledore.
Malfoy backed up before I could scurry away, and he stared at me with uncertainty for a long minute before turning around to go clean up the mess I'd made. An evil but lonely part of me almost reached out to grab his shirt and yank him back toward me, but the timing was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. It was always wrong and would always be wrong.
As Malfoy magically mended the broken flowerpot, I suddenly heard a high-pitched snicker and turned to see that Bellatrix was sauntering out into the gardens from the house's back door.
"Making a mess in the gardens?" she asked as she approached her nephew. "Mummy won't be happy, Draco."
"I know..." Malfoy grumbled as he slipped his wand back into his pocket.
"Don't put that away," Bellatrix insisted urgently. "We have work to do... Where is the girl?"
Malfoy nodded toward me, and I stepped awkwardly away from the wall.
"Scared, are you?" she taunted as she took a few threatening steps toward me. Her wand was out, and though she waved it around carelessly, I did not flinch. "We'll have to toughen you up before you're fit to serve the Dark Lord. He has no interest in the weak... Tell me, girl, have you ever performed an Unforgivable Curse?"
"No," I sneered as I glared over at her, "but I know you have."
Her smile revealed her blackened and decaying teeth, which greatly resembled her soul. "Oh yes, I have, many times. Tortured those nasty Longbottoms with the Cruciatus Curse, was about to kill off blood-traitor Sirius Black with the Killing Curse before he fell through the veil... Seems as though the outcome worked in my favor either way!"
Her cackles echoed through the open gardens, and Malfoy smirked lightly behind her.
"The Imperius Curse is a fun one too," she reveled as she suddenly pointed her wand at me. Before I could register what was happening, she had silently taken hold of my mind with the very curse she had referred to.
Take out your wand... That's it... Now point it at Draco... Say the spell, girl. Say it. Crucio!
I had not noticed myself draw my wand, and I had not realized that I'd aimed it at Malfoy, but as soon as Bellatrix uttered the curse in my brain, I knew that all of this was wrong, and I quickly chucked my wand onto the ground before I could repeat the spell.
Bellatrix giggled sinisterly to herself as Malfoy, who had raised his wand at me in defense, lowered his arm.
"Sorry," I muttered to him under the sound of his aunt's laughter as I retrieved my wand.
"They teach you well at that senseless old school, don't they?" Bellatrix asked in a tone of derision. "Hoggy-Hoggy-Hogwarts, where all of the Mudbloods and dirty half-bloods come to play! Pitiful! I always wonder how you got into Slytherin. A half-blood with a history like yours!"
"Bella," a voice prompted, and we all spun to see that Narcissa had just stepped out into the yard. While her sister's black hair was wild and disheveled, Narcissa's blonde hair was pinned up neatly. She wore her usually dark-colored clothing, some of which I was wearing now, as we hadn't had time to go back to Diagon Alley and retrieve my belongings. Bellatrix had had quite a fun time trying to dress me up over the past few days...
"Perhaps we should move this training into the ballroom. The clouds look like they are about to storm," Narcissa suggested.
"We actually have to train...with her?" Malfoy added under his breath as his aunt glared up at the dark clouds.
"Yes," his mother insisted as her body stiffened. "The Dark Lord has instructed your aunt to train both of you in preparation for the task. He does not wish that you fail."
Malfoy, of course, grumbled with displeasure, but he trudged in behind Bellatrix as she reentered the building. I lingered behind for a moment, eyeing Narcissa as she stared at me intently. Even on a dreary day like today her irises were clearly brighter than her son's and the blonde in her hair was not as white as his. She would have had a brighter complexion overall if it were not for the pain that plagued her appearance, the same kind of pain that probably plagued mine.
"Come, before it rains," she beckoned before ushering me into the house. Once within, I noticed that Draco and his aunt were already far ahead of us, and judging by Narcissa's slow pace, she planned to maintain that gap.
"I didn't know that the Dark Lord was unaware that your mother lives," she told me in a hushed tone as we strolled through the vast corridors. "I assumed that he instructed one of his followers to rid her of her power and that was why she was left in such a state... I did not know that it was Lucius, and I did not know that he was meant to kill her."
My lips remained sealed as I contemplated her words and formulated new questions that would likely never be answered.
"I'm...I'm sorry that you've endured so much trauma," Narcissa finally said as we rounded a corner. "Lisa was...a good friend of mine in our youth, and I never imagined any of this for—for any of her children."
"Did you—er—were you in her wedding?" I asked abruptly, glancing at her from the corner of my eye to see that her eyes had widened in shock. "I—I Saw a vision of the past where you mentioned that you'd always wanted to be a bridesmaid."
Her cheeks now held a tinge of pink as her lips hinted at a smile. "Well, yes, I would have been your mother's maid of honor, perhaps, if she had...chosen a different partner. Lucius and I were rather shocked that she chose a Muggle, and we did not attend her wedding. When I refused her request, she and her Muggle husband decided to elope and invite only very close family and friends. I was not invited to that, you can imagine... Lucius and I were to be her first-born's godparents, if she had married someone like Rookwood... But, that did not happen either..."
Though the regret in her voice was prominent, I felt no sympathy for Narcissa. She had discriminated against my father, my kind-hearted father, just because of his Muggle status, and for that I abhorred her. The idea of Lucius and Narcissa as Garren's godparents, though, almost made me chuckle. He would have given them hell. And if my mother had remained close with the Malfoys, perhaps Draco would have been my playmate as a child. That was quite an unsettling thought...
"To look down upon the inferior was not the way you were raised, I know, but it is the way in which you must conduct your life now," Narcissa went on in a business-like manner. "You can show no liking toward Mudbloods and blood-traitors. They will be the first to go when the Dark Lord rises to power, and to feel bound to them will only heighten the pain. You have learned this the hard way..."
"Yes," I muttered bitterly as we approached the ballroom.
"The Dark Lord wishes that you and Draco learn many new forms of magic before returning to Hogwarts. Non-verbal spells, basics in Legilimency and Occlumency, dark magic, the Unforgiveable Curses..."
"Wonderful," I snorted with strong sarcasm.
"Bellatrix will teach you," she told me as we halted in the open doorway of the grand ballroom, in which Bellatrix and Draco were already dueling. "She is a harsh teacher, but she will prepare you well. She taught me many things in our youth."
Narcissa turned to me suddenly with urgency riddled in her expression. "You must not fail the task that the Dark Lord has given you. I know that it's not in your nature to kill, but you must assist Draco to the best of your ability. I do not wish harm to fall upon my son, and I can see that you don't either."
I gave no response because there was nothing to say.
"I have an additional task, one just for you," she added in a whisper. "My family is not in favor with the Dark Lord because of my husband's failures, and I do not see us fairing well if the Dark Lord should come into complete power. There are very few things that might make him invincible, and a Gaudium is one of those. There are two existing Gaudiums other than your mother, and though we have heard they are void of their power, the Dark Lord still wishes to find them and try to use them to his advantage. He knows their identities but has not shared the information with anyone else. You must find them, Lainey, and you must keep them from him. They are rumored to be attending Hogwarts now, but we are unsure of their gender or House—"
"I'll find them," I interjected firmly as I scowled into her eyes. "But not for your sake or your family's sake. For everyone's sake."
∆
After a full day of training with Bellatrix, Malfoy and I were thoroughly exhausted, physically and mentally. She had not used the Cruciatus Curse on either of us, thankfully, though she had forced us to try it on some rodents. Malfoy had managed to say the spell, but it had had no effect on the little rat. I hadn't even been able to utter the word, which Bellatrix berated me for. It only reminded me of what had happened to my mother, and I did not want that same pain to inflict another being, human or rodent.
The next afternoon, Narcissa finally gained permission from the Dark Lord to bring Draco and I to Diagon Alley. Her son did, in truth, need a new set of robes, and we both needed to buy books for the school year, even though our grades and classes seemed to be the least of our worries. Following a brief visit to Flourish and Blotts, the three of us headed over to Madam Malkin's, which was certainly not a place I wished to go. The woman would chide me for leaving her shop earlier this week without informing her; so much had changed since that day that I did not think I would be capable of producing a believable excuse.
"I...think I dropped my wand in Flourish and Blotts," I lied to the Malfoys right before we could enter Madam Malkin's. "I'll—uh—be right back."
"Come right back to us," Narcissa commanded in a stern tone. "It's not safe for you to wander alone."
I nodded, though there was nothing for me to fear anymore. I was one of Voldemort's followers now; he was no longer tracking me down because he had already found me and turned my worst nightmares into reality.
Once the two Malfoys were deep within Madam Malkin's, I scurried by and headed not toward Flourish and Blotts, which sat next to Madam Malkin's, but to a different shop farther down the Alley. It was the only venue with any color to it anymore, and it was the only establishment in Diagon Alley that was packed with young and enthusiastic people: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.
Blending in was simple once I'd entered the shop. There were so many teenagers that no one even noticed me slink around, perusing the products as though I had no ulterior motive. The twins had truly outdone themselves with the shop: It was massive, with thousands upon thousands of prank products, many of which they'd never informed me of. They even had different categories, such as sweets, explosives, defensive gadgets, joke products, and Muggle related objects. It was in the section in which they kept their "WonderWitch" items that I found Fred Weasley, leaning against a massive display of Love Potions.
He was speaking to a girl that I recognized as a Gryffindor in my year, though as soon as his eyes met mine, he rapidly wrapped up their conversation. I was frozen where I stood at the end of an aisle of sweets, staring at him with a lack of words.
"You know, Fitz," he began, his body still propped up by the bright pink display, "I think when we kissed you transferred some of your Seer powers to me, because I had a feeling you'd show up here today."
"I—I dunno," I said as I tried to hide myself behind a tower of Waltzing Wafers. "We haven't really done that in quite some time..."
Fred's crooked smirk faded as he strolled over toward me. "Which is my fault, of course. I should have Apparated to your brothers' apartment the moment I saw your note on the blackboard—"
"Don't," I hissed as my eyes darted around. "Don't talk about that here—"
"Well, we need to talk about it at some point, don't you think?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side. "I'd say we need to have a good row about this and then get done with it. I deserve a good scolding—"
"Mr. Weasley," a voice prompted, and Fred spun around to see that a short, blonde witch was standing behind him. "There's a young girl here who wishes to buy a Kissing Concoction, but I thought—"
"Oh, this girl?" Fred asked as he gestured toward the little girl beside the blonde witch, a girl who was probably only eight. "Maybe in a few years, kid," he told the little one as he gave her a light pat on the shoulder. "For now, you might like one of our Pygmy Puffs. Better get one quick, though. They sell fast."
The little girl glanced over at the cages of little pink and purple puffballs, and her eyes lit up as she skipped over to them.
The blonde witch gave Fred an apologetic look, and he nodded at her.
"Thanks, Verity," he said before she hurried after the young girl.
"New girlfriend?" I teased, though I was more hopeful than joking.
"Verity? Nah, she only helps us out around the shop. Could have been your job if you hadn't refused..."
"It's very nice what you've done with the shop," I told him rather formally. "You and George run a good business. Looks like all of your ambitions have been achieved."
Fred's lips widened into a grin. "Oh, not all of them, Fitz. There's still one aspiration left to fulfill... Something to do with you and I, I believe."
I smirked lightly but kept my eyes focused on the ground as not to succumb to his flirting. "I shouldn't really be here right now," I admitted solemnly. "But I hoped to—um, talk to you... Is there anywhere we can speak privately?"
"Of course," Fred assured me as his demeanor shifted from lighthearted to concern. He beckoned for me to follow as he weaved through the teenage shoppers and brought us to a door in the far corner of the shop. As he opened it, I realized that it was a small storage cupboard, much like the one that the twins had occupied at Hogwarts. It was less dusty and a little larger, but for both of us to fit within was still a tight squeeze. Upon closing the door, Fred used his wand to magically light a light bulb that hung from the ceiling.
"Dad taught us a bit about combining magical and Muggle elements," Fred informed me as we both stared at the bright light of the light bulb. "Illegally, of course... Well, now that we're alone, am I allowed give you a proper apology?"
"No," I said as I scratched my left forearm, which was covered by one of Narcissa's black sweaters. The Dark Mark engraved on my arm was burning with particular discomfort at this moment... Perhaps its pain was stemming from the immense guilt that I felt.
"I think I'll feel worse if you apologize. It's better for me if...if I just assume that you didn't care enough to check on my brothers," I concluded hollowly as my eyes blinked rapidly.
"Fitz, that wasn't it. I didn't see your message until the early morning and I assumed they'd be asleep. George and I were going to check a little later when we heard word from the Order of what'd happened. Your uncle told us not to bother you," Fred pleaded so earnestly that I couldn't bear to gaze into his eyes.
"Don't say any more," I insisted as I shook my head. "I don't want to think about how perfect you are, all right? You're too good—"
"I'm not, Fitz," he said as he took a step closer to me. "I made a dumb mistake that got your brother killed—"
"I got my brother killed," I corrected emphatically. "It's best that you weren't there. It only would have gotten you killed as well, and I can't stand any more death."
Fred pressed his lips together, and, quite uncharacteristically, said nothing.
"I've been...trying not to feel anything since Lyle's death," I admitted with a shaky voice. "I haven't cried, I've barely smiled—"
"Fitz," he interrupted by putting a gentle hand on my shoulder. "It's okay to have emotions—"
"No it's not!" I exploded through my aching throat. "Everyone that I love dies. I'm the reason that Lyle's dead—"
"Fitz—"
"Voldemort told me to convince Harry to retrieve a prophecy a the Ministry. I—I wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how," I explained as salty tears flooded my vision. "He told me that if I didn't obey him he would hurt my brothers and he did. Lyle died because of me—"
"You can't blame yourself—"
"I'm the only one to blame! And it was all for nothing, because Harry ended up going to the Ministry anyway! Lyle died for nothing—"
"You-Know-Who didn't actually get the prophecy," Fred insisted over my cries. "Lyle died for Harry—he died maybe for the whole wizarding world. You did the right thing, Fitz, as terrible as it seems—"
"Lyle burned to death," I interjected harshly. "Do you know what that's like? Do you know how it feels to watch your twin's skin boil—"
"No, I don't, and I never wish to. And, if it came down to it, I don't know that I would choose to save Harry over George—"
"Yes, because you're loyal to your brother. I betrayed Lyle—"
"No, you chose not to betray Harry. It was noble, Fitz—"
"No, it was wrong!" I sobbed as water began to dribble down my cheeks. "It was wrong, and if I had to do it over again, I would have betrayed Harry to save Lyle."
"Fitz—"
"I don't care if you think I'm a monster, that's what I would have done. Harry may be my friend but he's not my brother. He's not my blood. He hasn't been by my side since I was born. He wasn't my best friend. I don't love him like I loved Lyle, and I never want a person that I love to die again. That's why I relocated my brothers. I sent them away—far away, where no one will find them. Where I'll never find them. I won't see them again...and it's my own fault." I took in a hideous, heaving breath and then said, "You're the only person left that I really care about."
"Really?" Fred challenged as his eyebrows shot up. "The only person?"
"Well—no," I croaked as I wiped my cheek with my sleeve. "But you're the only person I think Voldemort would try to use against me, other than my mother and my uncle."
Fred's lips twitched upward. "Are you trying to tell me that you love me, Lainey Fitzroy?"
Completely taken aback, my mouth fell open, and I struggled for a response, but he didn't let me make one.
"Because if you are, I'll have you know that I love you too."
Fresh tears stung my eyes as I struggled to swallow, struggled to breathe. "I—I—no—no, you can't—you can't. Don't you see? We need to end this—we need to. I...I can't see you. I can't talk to you. I can't think about you anymore, Fred—"
"Fitz," he began, but before he could utter another word, I jumped up and embraced him in a kiss so passionate and raw with emotion that I think I stained his cheeks with as many of my tears as I had my own.
"Get over me, okay?" I ordered as I sniffled back my emotions. "Date Alicia, maybe, or that Verity girl. You're too good for me, Fred. You'll always be too good for me."
As I reached with my left arm to grab the door handle, he wrapped his fingers around my forearm, and I felt incredible mental agony over the fact that his hand was encasing my Dark Mark, the very reason this dreaded conversation was taking place.
"I'm not letting you leave," he insisted firmly. "You-Know-Who can come track us down all he wants. George and I have been preparing for months. You're safer here than anywhere—"
"I'm not safe anywhere," I snarled as I wrenched my arm from his grasp. "And no one near me is any safer. I'm not the same girl that you were dating a few months ago. I'm not Fitz—I'm barely even Lainey. I've lost my entire family, and I've lost myself. I can't lose you too."
Fred pursed his lips as his brown eyes glared at me. "You-Know-Who won't know if we keep in touch. We'll be careful. We'll pretend not to care for each other—"
"He always knows," I said, shaking my head gravely. "He'll always know. Until he dies, Fred, we're over. I won't let you die, and the only way to ensure that you live is for me to stay away from you."
I didn't let him grab my arm; I didn't even let him open his mouth. With haste, I shoved the cupboard door open and stalked out into the shop. To my great dismay, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and George were all standing directly outside of the cupboard, apparently waiting for us.
The moment my eyes locked onto Harry's, I felt immediate nausea. This was the boy that I'd allowed Lyle to die for. This was the boy whose life had been traded for Lyle's. Never before had I resented Harry Potter so greatly. Never before had I wished him dead.
"Oi, told you guys they'd be in the closet," George announced to the others, though upon seeing my wet face and bloodshot eyes, his smile faded. "Er—doing all right, Lainey?"
Ginny backhanded her brother's arm and sent him a scowl before glancing back at me with sympathy. "Um...it's good to see you, Lainey. We've all missed you. Mum baked a cake and we tried to bring it to your apartment but you weren't there..."
"I don't live there anymore," I replied flatly. "And I don't like cake."
While everyone looked around awkwardly, Harry's gaze was boring into me with suspicion. I felt that he could see my Dark Mark through my sweater, though I knew he couldn't. It burned strong, though, and I felt extremely dirty in the presence of all of these pure people, my good friends. I had to get out.
"Lainey and I have just broken up," Fred announced as he emerged and closed the cupboard door behind him. "In case any of you twits were wondering, I broke up with her because I—because I don't like her black hair and she refused to change it. You can beat me up later, Ginny. Now, Harry, Hermione, could I interest you in any of our products? Hermione, you might enjoy our WonderWitch collection—"
"You're kidding me," Ginny blurted in outrage. "You must be joking—"
"I dunno," Ron said as he eyed Fred and I skeptically. "Fred always does say that he misses Lainey's old hair—Ow!"
Ginny had now slapped Ron, but she ignored his groaning. "You two can't have broken up—you just can't! Real love exists, it has to exist—"
"Someone's upset about Vince Anderson," George sang, earning himself another punch from his sister.
"I am not—"
"Who's Vince Anderson?" Ron asked dumbly.
"A friend of mine that I must go see," I answered before slamming through the five of them. Ginny tried to stop me, physically and verbally, but I shoved her away and ignored her calls as I swept out of the shop. Though I knew they all must have been staring at me, Fred's gaze was the one that burned hottest. When I stepped out into the street, I realized why Fred would be glaring so intently toward the exit: Draco Malfoy was peering in through the large front window, and when I approached him, I saw that Fred was directly in his line of sight.
"Were you spying on me?" I spat.
"Were you lying to us?" he countered with a mild eyebrow raise. "I knew you were. Even if my mother's daft, I'm not. I saw your wand in your pocket. I knew you just wanted to come snog your little Weaselbee—"
"I came here to break up with my little Weaselbee," I sneered as I shoved him along. Fred's glowering stare was too uncomfortable for us to remain in the window. "Do I look like I've just been snogging?"
Malfoy glanced over at me for real and his expression mollified. "You've been crying? That's pathetic—"
"Fred and I won't work now," I spoke over him with what little dignity I still possessed. "So I ended it. And now there's no one left that I love, which means no more emotions and no more tears. My only focus is our task. Where's your mother?"
He studied me with narrowed eyes before replying, "She's struggling with your trunk back at Malkin's. The old hag was being a nuisance, especially when Potter and his gang came bumbling in, and we decided to get my robes from Twilfitt and Tatting's instead. Then, of course, we remembered your ruddy trunk and my mother had to go back and argue with Malkin to let us take it. I decided to come find you. And, here you are, at the first place I looked."
I scowled at him and said, "I don't want to go back to Malkin's—"
"Oh, we're not," he assured me with a suave smirk. "I have other business to attend to in Knockturn Alley."
"Knockturn Alley? What could you possibly want in Knockturn Alley?"
"Come with me and you'll find out, Fitzroy," he said, wiggling his eyebrows before he spun around and swaggered down the street. After groaning inwardly, I scampered to catch up with him. "You won't be surprised to hear that I figured out what 'hope well neck lice' means."
My brow creased quizzically. "What?"
"'Hope well neck lice', the phrase that Montague kept repeating in the hospital wing," Malfoy reminded me impatiently. "He was trying to say Opal Necklace."
"Okay..." I started slowly. "What does that mean?"
He rolled his eyes in frustration. "It's a necklace in Borgin and Burkes, Fitzroy. I saw it there a few years ago. Montague was trying to tell us that the Vanishing Cabinet that he got stuck in leads to the one in Borgin and Burkes."
"Oh. Right.... Er, why does that matter?"
"Because the Dark Lord wants us to let the other Death Eaters into the school to take over. Weren't you listening when he gave us instructions after the ceremony?" he hissed.
"No," I replied truthfully. "So you want to use the Vanishing Cabinets to smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts? Isn't the one at the school broken?"
"Yes, and we'll mend it," he growled through gritted teeth. Due to my apparent stupidity in Malfoy's eyes, he didn't try to explain anything else to me while we walked through Knockturn Alley. I wasn't surprised when he led us into Borgin and Burkes, but I was reasonably apprehensive. Though I'd been to the shop once before, I'd never met the owner, and when we did, he was just as greasy and dodgy as I'd imagined.
"Mr. Malfoy," Borgin greeted slickly. "And friend..."
"She's not important," Malfoy insisted as he waved dismissively in my direction. I rolled my eyes as Borgin smirked lightly. "I have a few questions."
"As do I," I piped up with too much enthusiasm, and Malfoy sent me a sharp look.
"No, you don't—"
"Did a witch with purple hair ever come in here?" I asked bluntly. "Maybe three years ago? To buy a creepy necklace?"
Borgin's lips curled as he eyed me with distaste. "I don't discuss past purchases—"
"It was a—uh—a skull with a snake coming out of the eye," I explained as though he'd said nothing. "She said she bought it here, and I was wondering if you had any more, perhaps? It's very—er—pretty, in my opinion. I think it would go well with my gothic look—"
"No," he interjected dryly. "It's one of a kind."
"Oh...does it, um, do anything? Is it special in any way?"
"No," he repeated with just as much annoyance.
"Are you sure, because—"
"Shut up, Fitzroy," Malfoy snarled as he backhanded my upper arm. "You're embarrassing us. We're here on important business—"
"Right, right—oh, is that the Vanishing Cabinet?" I asked as my gaze fell upon a grand, darkly colored cabinet that rested in the center of the shop.
"Yes, that's it," Malfoy confirmed as he surveyed it. "Is it for sale?"
"Ah, yes. Vanishing Cabinets are rather rare these days, you know. This one's got a hefty price—"
"Good," Malfoy barked over Borgin's rambling. "Don't sell it."
"I—I beg your pardon?" Borgin stammered as he stared at Malfoy in bewilderment.
"We would like you to sell us this necklace, though," Malfoy drawled on as he sauntered over to a necklace that sat on display in a glass case. It was beautiful: turquoise stones surrounded by intricately carved black metal. For an extremely pitiful moment, I almost thought he was buying it for me.
"Ah, the Opal Necklace," Borgin mused as he removed his wand from his pocket. "Very powerful dark magic in this, I'm sure you know..."
"Yes, I'm aware of what it does," Malfoy snapped as he rummaged through his pocket. "We'll take it now."
"Very well..."
Borgin used his wand to open the glass showcase, and he did not touch the necklace as he magically wrapped it in brown paper and sealed it in a black box. Malfoy exchanged it for a sac of Galleons so large that I wondered how he had fit it in his pocket. Magic.
"Back to the Cabinet," Malfoy started as he slipped the boxed necklace away. Borgin seemed frazzled as he followed the two of us back toward the Vanishing Cabinet. "It will need to remain here until further notice... We know where its sister is, but it's broken. Do you know how to fix it?"
"Possibly," Borgin answered in a vague tone. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"
"I can't," Malfoy said. "It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."
Borgin took a moment to lick his lips nervously, so I added, "You can also tell me about my friend's necklace, while you're at it—"
"Shut up, Fitzroy," Malfoy hissed with a threatening glare.
"Well," Borgin began again as though the two of us hadn't been bickering, "without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."
"No? Perhaps this will make you more confident," Malfoy sneered as he yanked up his left sleeve and revealed the Dark Mark that greatly contrasted his pale skin. Borgin hiccoughed as his eyes protruded from their sockets. I felt just as unsettled, as this was the exact scene that I'd Seen in the Orb of Sight: Malfoy in Borgin and Burkes with the Dark Mark. When Seeing the vision, I had known he was not alone, but I had not thought that I would be the person accompanying him.
"Tell anyone and there will be retribution," Malfoy threatened as he pulled his sleeve back down. "You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."
"There will be no need for—"
"I'll decide that," Malfoy assured him with a sneer. "Well, we'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, we'll need it."
"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?" Borgin suggested, glancing between the both of us with hope.
"No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street?"
"I'd pay to see that," I put in, though neither of them found it particularly comical.
"Just don't sell it," Malfoy concluded with a precarious look out the front window.
"Of course not...sir," Borgin assured him with a deep bow. I almost laughed.
"And not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"
"Naturally, naturally," Borgin murmured with another bow, though I didn't see anything natural about Malfoy wishing that Borgin didn't mention this meeting to his mother.
"Why don't you want your mother to know we were in there?" I whispered to Malfoy as we stalked out of the shop. He was smirking rather haughtily to himself, though his lips bent into a frown with my question.
"Because she...doesn't like me coming down to Knockturn Alley alone," he muttered in humiliation.
My lips grinned as I let out a mocking snort. "That's cute."
"Shut up," he grumbled as we swept through a narrow alley. I swore I felt something along the wall as we passed through, but when I looked, there was nothing there, so I continued on without question.
"So, who's your big friend Fenrir Greyback?" I asked once we'd returned to Diagon Alley. "Do you pay him to do your bidding?"
"You don't know who Fenrir Greyback is?" Malfoy scoffed haughtily. "Well, of course not. You were raised like a Mudblood..."
"Who is he?" I repeated irritably.
There was a gleam of mischief in his eyes as he replied, "You're not the only one with werewolf friends, Fitzroy."
The events in this chapter correlate with The Half-Blood Prince Chapter Six, "Draco's Detour".