The Second Day - Part 5
They left Bill in the care of the village Healer, Agnes Godolphin, a gentle woman with wind-reddened cheeks and billowy white hair.
From the moment they had discovered the knife was missing, there was no doubt about their next destination. "Greyback will want to get back to the other Snatchers," Viktor said. "Scabior and the rest stayed at Malfoy Manor when the Death Eaters followed Voldemort to Hogwarts."
"We can't apparate and my father disconnected us from the Floo network years ago. We'll have to fly," Draco said.
"How long will it take?" Harry asked.
"About five or six hours," Viktor said. "I came to Tinworth many times last year," he explained. "Bill was one of my contacts."
After restoring their broomsticks to full size the three men pushed off from the ground, climbing at a steep angle over the Cornish cliffs. Without consulting him, Harry's two companions flanked him on either side, Viktor on his right and Draco on his left. Viktor's heavy awkwardness was gone as he slashed through the sky, his cloak flaring out behind him. Draco too seemed in his element, less careworn, as he sped through the high mist.
They swept silently across the countryside of moors, farms, and hedgerows, stopping only once to eat the simple supper Bill had provided. Casting a Disillusionment Charm to cloak them from the eyes of any unsuspecting Muggles, they landed in the center of an ancient ring of standing stones, on a rise in the middle of a wide plain.
"Bread, cheese, an apple for each of us," Viktor said, giving Harry and Draco their share.
"Here's some water from Fleur's spring," Draco said, filling a silvery cup from his canteen and handing it to Harry.
"Thanks," Harry said, tilting his head back and pouring it down his throat. "I have sweets. Some chocolate from McGonagall-but maybe we should save that. How about some figs? They're Ron's favourite," he added, offering a handful to Viktor.
"No, thank you," said Viktor firmly. Draco just shook his head.
"Your loss, then," Harry said. He popped one into his mouth and returned the rest to his pocket. "All right. Tell me what we can expect. How many Death Eaters and Snatchers will still be at Malfoy Manor? Where are Greyback and Yaxley likely to be-and where could they hide the knife?"
Draco told them everything he knew about the great stone estate that had served as Voldemort's most recent headquarters, drawing a detailed floorplan from memory. Viktor listed the Death Eaters and hangers on that they were most likely to find there.
"One thing you must know, Harry," Viktor added. "Greyback. He is not an ordinary werewolf. He was never bitten. He was born a Fenriswolf, the most powerful, the most vicious of all werewolves. He is Fenrir. Draco's rope is for him-he cannot be bound by any spell. Only the rope will hold him."
"Then it's quite simple," Harry said. "We wait until dark, find Greyback and neutralize him, then seize the knife. Draco, I want you to go in first. They'll welcome you. Find out what you can-find out where Greyback is and what he's doing. Then report back and we'll decide what to do."
Draco nodded. "I'll find him. He won't escape me." Draco's face was ashen, devoid of color, but he looked steadily at Harry and held his gaze.
The sun was still high above the horizon, so they decided to remain within the circle of stones for another hour. One of Viktor's confederates worked as a psychic and tarot reader in the cathedral town nearby, so Viktor offered to fly there and use her Floo to call Slughorn and let him know about their unexpected detour to Malfoy Manor-and ask about the possibility of reinforcements.
Draco's nervousness increased markedly with Viktor's departure. He paced a dozen circuits around the inside of the stones, then grabbed his pack and rechecked its contents.
"So long as you have the rope, we're fine," Harry said reassuringly.
"Yeah, it's here," Draco replied, pulling one end taut.
Harry's mind drifted back to his conversation with Draco the day before, in the Slytherin common room. "Could you do something for me?" Harry asked.
Draco looked up, startled. "Yeah, sure. I guess."
"Remember what you told me about Voldemort-and Ginny-and the Pygmy Puff?"
"Of course. What of it?"
"Could you-after Fred's funeral-could you talk to Ginny and tell her what happened? You said I needed to know, and you were right. She needs to know too."
"I'd be happy to," Draco said, clearly relieved. "There's just one little thing. I don't think I could get anywhere near the Burrow, much less the Weasel…the youngest Weasley herself."
"Right. I see what you mean. I tell you what. When we get back I'll send her an owl-- maybe talk to her after the funeral-let her know that you have something to tell her. You probably should try to meet her in Diagon Alley though. Anywhere but the Burrow, that's for sure."
"OK. I'll tell her," Draco agreed. "But first we have to find the knife."
Viktor returned soon after with the not unexpected news that no Auror teams could come to Malfoy Manor until the following day. The trio was on their own.
They arrived at the wrought iron gates of the Manor just before sunset. Draco raised his arm and placed his palm flat
against the lock. The gates immediately swung open. Harry and Viktor took up positions behind the high hedge to the
right of the drive, while Draco walked slowly to the front door of the darkened mansion, his head bared and his blonde
hair glinting silver in the last rays of the setting sun. They had agreed to give him an hour, until nine o'clock.
If he had not returned by then, they would assume the worst and try their luck without him.
Harry and Viktor crouched in an uncomfortable silence as the sky darkened and wisps of mist began to rise from the ground and obscure the house.
Staring straight ahead and not looking at Harry, Viktor asked suddenly, "Is it true? I have heard that Hermione is…that she and Ron Weasley are…"
"A couple?" Harry broke in. "No, they're not. Not at all. Some of us thought there was something there-including me-but I was wrong. We were wrong."
"Good. That is good. Hermione is exceptional. No one is worthy of her. I am not. You are not. But Ron Weasley-he is worthy the least."
Harry was about to defend Ron, but no words came. So he changed the subject and asked a question of his own.
"Your Patronus is a fully formed, corporeal Patronus. That's very advanced magic. Did you learn that at Durmstrang?"
"No. We had few happy thoughts at Durmstrang. You met Karkaroff. You know what he was," Viktor said contemptuously. "No one at Durmstrang was taught any charms or spells based on love or…fellow feeling-empathy I think you say. No-this is how it happened. Two years ago I read about your struggles against the ministry-your trial for using underage magic, a Patronus Charm. I wrote and asked Hermione about it, and she explained what it was. I found an old book of protective spells in the Durmstrang Library and taught myself how to use it. It was very useful this past year-that and the Confundus Charm," Viktor added, with a quiet chuckle.
"Why an otter, though?" Harry persisted, looking at the elaborate ring on Viktor's right hand. "Wouldn't you want something more impressive, more regal, like a lion or..."
"For a long time my Patronus had no clearly defined shape. But after Hermione told me that hers was an
otter…" Viktor turned to Harry and smiled, a genuine smile that lit up his entire face. "You are supposed to
think of a happy memory, a powerful memory that banishes sadness and fear. My happiest memories are of
her."
Harry had no idea how to reply to Viktor's declaration, so he said nothing.
At long last the sun disappeared below the horizon and the grey, washed out sky darkened to a deep black. A soft mist rose slowly from the grassy park surrounding the house.
"Do you know when the moon is going to rise?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't want to run up against a furry Fenrir, would we," he added, in an attempt to break the tension that had intensified with the darkness. Too late he remembered that Viktor didn't have much of a sense of humour.
"I don't know about the moon," Viktor replied. "But it makes no difference."
"What do you mean?"
"Greyback is a Fenriswolf, remember-he can transform at will, like any other Animagus. The moon has nothing to do with it. He is not like Professor Lupin."
"So that's why-at Hogwarts, during the battle, Greyback changed-I saw him attack Lavender-and Lupin did not," Harry said haltingly, as he began to understand the implication of Viktor's words.
"Yes, that is why. And that is why we have the rope."
"If necessary then, you and I will hold him and Draco will tie him up."
Viktor nodded his agreement and looked back at the house. Again the two men lapsed into silence and waited, waited for any sign of life in the house at the end of the drive.
Another hour passed when suddenly a quiet scuffling could be heard at some distance behind them, perhaps a cat or other small creature of the night. Harry and Viktor tensed and turned around. A dark shape, crouched over, was making its way slowly toward them.
Harry drew out his wand. "Stupefy," he said in a fierce whisper. The shape came to a halt and fell over on its side. Motioning to Viktor to stay where he was, Harry crept cautiously forward, until he discovered the unconscious body of Draco, his hair hidden again by the stocking cap and his wand still holstered.
Harry revived him with an unspoken thought. "Sorry, mate. I couldn't see it was you. Are you OK?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Draco said. He stood up and brushed himself off, his right hand going automatically to his trouser pocket to see if his wand was secure.
"Slughorn gave it to me," Draco said as he followed Harry's gaze. "It belonged to Jude Turpin, a Slytherin who switched sides and served the Order in the last war. He died in the attack on the Prewetts, actually. His wand hasn't been used since. Turns out it suits me very well, which is fortunate-since it looks like I'm not getting mine back anytime soon." He looked pointedly at Harry. Harry had no intention of revealing the secrets of the Elder Wand to Draco, so he made no reply.
"Listen, we don't have a lot of time. Greyback and Yaxley aren't here but they're expected back soon. They just went to the village to get some supplies."
"What did you find out? Who's there now?" Harry asked.
"Just Scabior and half a dozen other Snatchers. Basically the most cowardly scum of Riddle's pathetic band. They never took the Dark Mark so they don't know anything about Riddle's death." Draco stretched out his left arm and pulled back his sleeve to show his pale white arm, completely unmarked.
"Yaxley and Greyback have kept them in the dark-who knows why-and I didn't enlighten them. They think I'm here to pick up some…instruments from the cellar. I think they would surrender pretty easily if you went in, Harry, and told them what happened. Except that they've been enjoying my father's stock of Firewhiskey for hours now. The bottles are everywhere and the stench is horrible. They'd probably just take you for a ghost and not believe a word."
"It's simple then. We just Stun or Petrify them and tie them up until the Aurors arrive tomorrow," Harry said. "Unless-do you think any of them know where the knife is?"
"No. I asked and they didn't have any idea what I was talking about. I don't think Greyback would be stupid enough to flaunt such a valuable object around, not when he went to so much trouble to get it back. But I think I know where he'd put it. There's a small silver chest in my father's bed chamber, where he keeps his most precious hand weapons-poison darts, a garotte, a stiletto-that kind of thing. Greyback has always been fascinated by the chest and its contents. He would want to add his own contribution-and then take the lot."
"Fine. We'll immobilize the stragglers first, try our luck in your father's room-and hope we get out before the others get back."
"Agreed," Viktor said.
"One thing-this is very important," Harry said, looking directly at his two companions. "Under no circumstances does anyone use an Unforgivable, or Sectumsempra, or aim to kill or maim. Voldemort was defeated by a disarming spell-we will use only defensive spells tonight." Harry strongly regretted his use of the Cruciatus Curse against Amycus Carrow, even though he knew now that the urge to torture had come from his link to Voldemort. He was determined it wouldn't happen again. "Do you both agree? If not, then I will disarm you now and go in alone."
Harry thought he saw Viktor's hand tense as if he might reach for his wand. Perhaps it was only his imagination, because Viktor said, firmly and with great earnestness, "We will do as you say, Harry. I have seen your power: you could eliminate all those wretches on your own, without us. If you will show mercy, that is what we will do also. We will not seek revenge."
Viktor looked meaningfully at Draco, who nodded. "Defensive spells only. I agree."
"Good, that's settled then. I have the box for the knife. Do you have the rope, Draco?"
"Yes, and the Hand of Glory-we may need that. They've let almost all the candles burn out. You might want to pull up the hood on your sweatshirt. One or two of them might be sober enough to recognize you."
Wands drawn, the three young men walked in a long arc across the grass toward the house. Draco pushed open the front
door and Harry and Viktor followed him into the great hallway. Draco gasped when he saw that the portraits lining the
walls were all empty. "Looks like my ancestors couldn't stand all this riffraff mucking up the place
either," he said under his breath.
They could smell the drawing room before they saw it-the stench of stale beer and whiskey and sweat, mixed with something more terrible, the smell of the slaughterhouse. Draco slowly pushed open the heavy wooden door. The scene was exactly as he had described it. By the feeble light of the fire and a pair of almost extinguished candles on the marble mantelpiece, Harry could make out a half dozen Snatchers sprawled across the room's elaborate armchairs. One man had apparently fallen on the floor and now lay in a pool of his own vomit.
"It seems hardly necessary, but I suppose we should get them properly restrained for when the Aurors arrive tomorrow," Harry said, Stunning each in turn and conjuring a length of rope from his wand to tie them securely.
Out of the corner of his eye Harry noticed a multicolored shadow dappling the wall next to the fireplace. Fearing some lingering trace of Dark Magic he approached it cautiously-and almost gagged when he saw what it was. A pair of albino peacocks from the park had been cruelly butchered, their bodies pecked at and gashed and their tails sliced off.
"They set the cocks against each other, for sport," Viktor said in barely controlled rage. "They breed them to be white, so the injuries and blood can be seen. After the peacock is dead, they cut off its tail as a trophy-the tail regains its colours, as you see."
The multicolored shadow Harry had seen had simply been a reflection of the dazzling, untarnished blues and greens and golds of the peacocks' tails.
"Our work is done here. Where is your father's room?" Harry asked.
"Upstairs," Draco said.
Author Note: Did anyone recognize where they had lunch? I have the next part ready and will post it once I get enough reviews to know if it's worth posting during the Olympics.
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