A/N: Seasons greetings everyone! I can't believe two years have gone by since I first posted this story; however, it's always been close to my heart. Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed (or even just read) the first chapter! I hope you enjoy the rest!
A very special Christmastime hug goes to my dear friend, Janie! XOXO!
Chapter Two - A Quest Is Given
There should have been pandemonium and chaos. There should have been noise and a rush of activity. There should have been, at the very least, a collective intake of breath, a gasp, a reaction from everyone there.
Instead there was silence.
Everyone - and everything - was frozen in place. Molly was still pointing at the Weasley family clock, the aftermath of her scream etched in her face. Victoire's tiny fists were stopped in mid air, her face screwed up in a now silent wail. Teddy's hair was half fuchsia, half chartreuse, caught in the middle of a morph. Every guest at the party was a statue, frozen in the process of turning to look in the direction of Molly's scream.
Even the fire in the hearth was no longer crackling, but instead was motionless like a muggle photograph.
Harry's and Ron's eyes were fixed on the hands of the Weasley family clock, as Ginny's pointed to "Mortal Peril," with Hermione's and Luna's names glimmering dully on either side of hers. In the back of the room, a third pair of eyes was also fixed on the clock. Draco Malfoy might have been embarrassed to know a look of genuine concern marked his face.
The frozen flames in the hearth flared into life, turning emerald green. Argus Filch stepped out of the Weasley's fireplace and into the Burrow's magically expanded lounge. His squinty eyes scanned the room. When he found what he was looking for, he started the somewhat arduous process of picking his way through the crowd. The stock still guests were hard and unyielding like statues. He had to climb over and around several people, and nearly knocked over Mrs. Longbottom before reaching his target.
Malfoy started at the hard jab to his shoulder. "What the - Filch?" He quickly glanced around the room, a look of consternation marring his features.
"Don't worry about this lot," Filch waved his hand dismissively. "What you need to worry about is you," he poked his finger at Draco's chest. "Should be easy enough. You've had loads of practice."
The words stung Malfoy. "You insolent -" He bit off his retort. There were more pressing matters. "Where are Weasley, Lovegood, and Granger?"
Filch grinned, showing a shockingly poor collection of teeth. "If I just told you, where'd be the fun in that?"
Draco clenched his jaw. "What do you want, Filch?"
Filch shrugged casually. "This isn't about what I want." Not exactly true, Filch told himself. "If you want to see your friends again, you need to come with me."
Draco pulled out his wand and aimed it at Filch. "If you've hurt any of them -"
Filch laughed. "Little ol' me hurt the likes of Weasley, Granger, and Lovegood? You flatter me, m'lord." He sketched a mockery of a bow.
When he came up from the bow, Filch and Malfoy were standing on the lawn at Hogwart's.
"What the bloody hell -"
Filch laughed. "Confused, are we?"
Malfoy looked around. "We can't really be here."
"Yes, yes. No apparating in and out of Hogwart's. Aren't you bright."
"This isn't real then." But the sunlight was bright in Malfoy's eyes, and he was almost hit by a speeding broom flown by a young wizard. Regaining his composure, he shaded his eyes, and before him appeared… Harry Potter?
What IS this? Malfoy wondered. He saw an eleven-year-old Harry glide to a halt, remembrall in hand, next to a gaggle of first years at their flying lesson. Not far away was an eleven-year-old Neville, rolling on the ground in pain, cradling his injured arm.
Malfoy saw his eleven-year-old self doubled over with laughter at Neville's suffering. He cringed a bit at the sight.
Filch noted Draco's discomfort. "Maybe you'll feel a bit more comfortable here," Filch waved his arm.
Draco looked around, finding himself in the drawing room in Malfoy Manor. He watched as Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were paraded in by Fenrir Greyback. Harry's face was hideously deformed by the jinx Hermione performed in a quick attempt to disguise him. Draco saw himself squirming as his father prodded him to identify Harry. He had tried the best he could not to give Harry and his friends away.
Filch watched Draco. "Tried to help them, did you?"
"Fat lot of good it did," he replied.
"They escaped, didn't they?"
Draco shook his head. "Yes, but -"
"You bought them time," Filch said. "That's the best you could have done." He waved his hand, and abruptly they were at the top of the Astronomy Tower .
"No!" shouted Draco.
"I'll agree it's a bit out of order, time wise," said Filch. "But I saved the most important thing for last."
Draco watched, horrified because he knew what was coming. He saw himself disarm Dumbledore, then watched as Professor Snape killed him.
"What is the meaning of this, Filch?" Anger, confusion, and shame all roiled within him. "Why are you showing me these things?" And how? The question surfaced in Draco's mind for an instant, then vanished amidst the turmoil of his emotions.
Filch looked at him. "You're not a killer. You have, however, been a git. But the things you've done made a good difference. Your stunt with the remembrall got Harry on the Quidditch team, which ended up helping him find the Philosopher's Stone and defeat You Know Who the first time."
"What?"
Filch went on. "You tried not to identify Potter and Granger, and that helped them escape. The most important thing though, was disarming Professor Dumbledore up on the tower. You became master of the Elder Wand then and that was the key to bringing down the Dark Lord."
Draco's head was spinning. How does Filch know all this? How are we even here? What does it all mean? "Is this some sort of bizarre object lesson?"
Filch smacked his forehead. "Blimey, if you're not a complete dullard! You're supposed to figure it out on your own. Think!"
Draco rolled the events over in his mind, along with Filch's explanation. A dawning realization crept into his thoughts.
"I'm a decent person?" He spoke in both wonderment and incredulity. He could not quite believe the words he'd just heard himself utter.
Filch rolled his eyes. What he wanted to say was, "Feeling better about ourselves now, are we?" but he settled on a simple, "Yeah, something like that."
Draco was still reeling from his journey into his past, and the implications for his future. He tried to focus. "Where are Ginny, Luna, and Hermione? What does any of this have to do with them?"
"You have a quest," Filch answered.
Over Draco's perplexed look, Filch drew out of piece of parchment from his tatty coat and began to read:
Three maidens fair lie in the snow,
Their robes of deepest indigo.
The hair of one as bright as flame,
The second an unruly mane,
The third as pale
As a full moon,
These ladies three
Need rescue soon.
Enchanted sleep
Has stilled their breath,
Their skin as pale
And cold as death.
What could make them breathe once more?
What could make them whole and warm?
A quest for three young wizards brave,
They must complete by Christmas day.
The task for the brave wizard first
Is to find something of worth.
It cannot be bought or stolen or made.
It must something someone gave.
A test of character must be passed,
And for reward you must not ask."
Filch looked up from the parchment. "You got 'til sunrise."
"But how am I supposed to - "
A scream echoed behind Draco. He whirled around to see a cluster of people down a dimly lit close. He turned back to Filch who was gone, leaving Malfoy alone on a dark, deserted street corner, Merlin-knew-where. Draco drew his wand and made his way toward the source of the scream.