All sorts of different junk were bathed in a golden haze. Dust in the air, sparkling like the magic of a million tiny golden fairies flying. The morning light fell through the old glass of the windows. A soft breeze swept in the grass outside, wet with dew, shaking off the glistening drops of water. Moving photos on the walls. Happy faces of times that weren’t anymore. They would come again. Not yet, not on that day, but they eventually would. Though some of those faces would never return to the crooked house. Never more. Torn, the laughter only a half. On a small table in a corner, the newspapers from the past days. The rather still portrait of a once grand family looking from one of them under the headline on a front page.
CLEARED OF ALL CHARGES
It has been confirmed that the litigation around the former Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, has ended with a distinctive result. Accusations included no less than fifty-three unsolved cases of Muggle artefact misuse, multiple practice of all Unforgivable Curses as well as various other kinds of Dark Magic in a span of twenty-three years, possession of at least twelve dangerous Dark or cursed objects, contributory fault in the kidnapping and hostage-taking of the renowned Wandmaker Garrick Olivander, the Goblin Griphook – now deceased, Hogwarts students Luna Lovegood, daughter of the editor and publisher Xenophilius Lovegood, Dean Thomas, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and none less than Harry Potter. At the present time, the people listed, strangely seem to be unavailable for any depictions of the crimes committed against them, in spite of no known security measures upon their current residences; neither has any traffic of living beings registered, other than that of unsuccessful reporters, spotting one another.
All of the charges against Mr Malfoy however, have been dropped invariably. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt himself has given interview on details of the unanimous decision:
``Mr Malfoy has provided information helpful for tracking down a great number of stray Death Eaters. Some of them have been caught successfully already during the course of the long trial. His regrets lie deep and he offered to assist the Ministry further in restoring peace to our country by finding and suing those accused of crimes very similar to those that had once led to his own incarceration.´´, the Minister states. ``We all are grateful for Mr Malfoy’s offer. Meanwhile, he will be left in the hands of his wife and son to recover from the recent events.´´
A full list of the suspects named in the process can be found on page twenty. Any information on their whereabouts shall be delivered to the Ministry at an instant and will be rewarded due to their weight in case of success.
Carelessly thrown next to that, an article in the Evening Prophet.
LUCIUS MALFOY DEAD
Earlier this evening, tragic news from Malfoy Manor reached our agency: Mr Lucius Malfoy, aged 44, was found dead in his own house by his family. Regardless of the enhanced security measures put up around the Manor by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement due to expecting Death Eaters wishing to retaliate for his assistance to the Ministry(see the Daily Prophet, front page, May 15th), it had not been possible to protect him.
Detailed background to the gruesome event has not yet been confirmed by the Ministry. It remains to be seen whether his death was the result of a crime, which would be highly questioning the reliability of the Witch Watchers, or the act of a desperate man who in the end felt incapable to cope with the horrors he had experienced.
The paper of the following day read something not less unpleasant. Shown along, the photo of a strict, utterly self-loving looking blond man with a malevolent expression and smile as dark as the foreboding headline:
MINISTRY HEAD MURDERED
Yesterday, the village of Feramore has seen a crime as no other wizard hosting settlement of its size has witnessed since the late seventies. The Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Corban Yaxley, well-respected among Ministry employees for years, has fallen victim to a murder of considerable brutality. The sickening cruelty the killer has exercised is indescribable and explicit details cannot be published in any way for the wellbeing of our readers. It must be noted that the described acts were enough to make even resilient people lose their conscience at the mere mention.
Therefore, and not only due to the way of murder, it is considered to have been the work of an extremely psychopathic person.
Mr Yaxley’s body had been found in a chair, another placed opposite to it, leading to the assumption that the killer either interrogated the victim or found it highly pleasing to watch him die. No visible magic was involved in the direct act, from which can be deduced, that personal retribution might be one of the killer’s motives. To date, no clue has been found on weapons used or other marks that could lead to any possible suspect, nor has the sort of magic performed to secure the house been identified yet, apart from the logic use of an Anti-Disapparition Jinx to bind Mr Yaxley to the estate. The crime appears to be; barring the infliction of damage to Mr Yaxley’s body; the clean work of a professional.
After the events at Hogwarts, Mr Yaxley had had to fight with accusations of having played a crucial role in the Second Wizarding War by supporting the Death Eaters willingly as well as having belonged to their inner circle and a hearing had been ordered, which he had not attended. This had resulted in more suspicions, and in due course, the discovery of the crime.
Whether this murder is in connection with an alarmingly similar incident reported by the Muggle Police in London, remains unclear at press date.
The very same Daily Prophet dealt with Mr Malfoy as well. It was only a small article, but big enough to have made it onto the front page next to the big headline about the killing of Yaxley and the debates around the future of Hogwarts.
SUICIDE CONFIRMED
As reported in yesterday’s Evening Prophet, Lucius Malfoy died in his home. In last minute before press date, the Ministry has revealed little information concerning the tragedy and confirmed that he had indeed committed suicide. To spare his wife Narcissa Malfoy and son Draco, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, under temporary lead of Melinda McGallaham, however refuses to provide details on the circumstances. The high protection around the Manor will remain. His family currently receives psychological care. Lucius Malfoy died aged 44.
There was one more readable paper on the table, carrying another huge headline and long article taking in almost the entire front page, in its centre, a large photo of a black silhouette against red print, with a colourless, pulsating question mark on.
`AVENGER´ STRUCK AGAIN
The war had ended by the beginning of the month, but seemingly not for all. Next to the British Ministry of Magic, apparently a lone warrior walks loose, taking the law in their own, brutal hand. Though sharing the Ministry’s intention of capturing stray Death Eaters and calling them to account for their crimes, this person’s methods are no short of bestial, resulting in the eventual death of their victims. It is now clear that the horrific murders of the former Ministry employees Corban Yaxley, Augustus Rookwood and Walden Macnair, the Werewolf Fenrir Greyback(we reported) as well as the brothers Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Camilla Bannock, Thorfinn Rowle, Amanda Carrington, Elyssa Singer, Bradley Dormin, and Eric Mulciber – so far, are marked on one person’s tally. The striking resemblance of some of the inflicted injuries imply that the parties in charge are most likely dealing with not only vengeance, but a sort of ritual murder, whereas those injuries that differ, seem also to have reason.
None other than; having just begun his carreer as an Auror, as we reported; Harry Potter himself, commented briefly: ``They all pretty much end up the same. It’s the differences that bother [Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office] and my colleagues. But I’m not bothered, really. If they’d seen what those monsters; the Death Eaters, I mean; did to their victims, they’d understand that every single of these differing cuts sits just in the place it belongs.´´
By this, Mr Potter is referring to the victims’ past. Detailed knowledge of that however remains sealed within the Auror Office’s archives. Yet it is easy to put one and one together and understand the murders are designed to not only teach the victims a last lesson but to clearly showcase their former crimes.
More deaths are expected, but it is unpredictable how many. Since Bannock, Singer and Dormin were not known by the Ministry to be Death Eaters but found alike all others with the remains of a Dark Mark on their arms, it is now clear that the mass murderer has Death Eater sources and must therefore be a highly angry, though still composed enough defected follower of the `Lord´.
What though highly confuses the parties, the murderer has left the sign of once Dark Wizard Gellert Grindelwald on each of their victims’ doors, painted with the blood of those; very similar to what the Death Eaters did whenever committing murder, namely the signing of the sky with the Dark Mark. But considering that Grindelwald’s intention was to enslave all Muggles and Muggle-Born; which shows high resemblance to the ideology of the later Death Eaters; and all victims of the hunter are proven Pure-Bloods so far, their actual drive is covered in veils of mystery. By the time, Ministry agents in all questioned responsible departments though refer to the killer as `The Avenger´, given by their obvious mean to let justice prevail, whichever that may be.
Minister Shacklebolt has given statement to the murders as well: ``I cannot say I am grateful for the Avenger’s work; by no means such acts are vindicated, not even in regard to the victims’ past; though I will not deny that it spares the Ministry, and Auror Office in particular, a lot of exhausting work. Nevertheless we will do everything to catch the self-proclaimed hero and confront them, considering milder punishment in return for cooperation.´´
Any serious information on the mass murderer or more Death Eaters are to be brought to the Ministry instantly! Useful information will be highly rewarded!
Further dealing with the topic: an interview with the renowned psychologist Cassandra Stevens on causes of war and motives of revenge, page 5.
Just at a corner, there was a smaller paragraph that dealt with a little lighter matter. It said that Owle Bullock’s encyclopaedia had become best-selling and that eighty percent of the royalties were put into a fund he had raised for helping war wounded – for medical care of permanent injuries, acquisition of prostheses or wheelchairs, for personal magical training to match their injuries and allow a fairly normal life or to provide monthly income for completely disabled. As a reason was depicted, that one of his daughters had lost both arms from a blasting curse when running from Snatchers and barely survived the attack.
Looking at the small photo of Lucius Malfoy that had been printed with the news of his death, a young man stood by the table. In his hand, an excerpt from a two days old version of the Sunday Prophet. It was a little piece of paper he had cut out. Only a few lines were on it.
Lucius Abraxas Malfoy
February 2nd 1954 – May 21st 1998
The things that drive us may be very complex, but in the end we are only human
We, Narcissa and Draco, are deeply grieved to inform that our dear husband and father has left our world to a brighter place. His mortal remains will be given back to the grounds he called his home, on Tuesday 26th of May at 10am. Whoever wishes to pay him tribute, is welcomed.
Harry dropped the death notice into the Mokeskin Pouch around his neck and buttoned up his purple satin shirt. Gazing into the mystically lit garden, he bound a black tie around his collar. Footsteps on the wooden stairs. Ron, still in his pyjama pants and a worn-out T-shirt, came down, robbing his eyes with a lion-like yawn and tousled his foxy-red hair. As he took the last few stairs he let out a gasp of shock. One of the stairs had creaked. Robbing his eyes once more, he stepped on it a couple of times, marvelled by the horrible noise of the wood under his foot. With a sigh he turned to the figure he had seen in the corner of his tired eye.
“Mooorning!”, he yawned again. “What’s that? Why’re you up already? And why’re you – ”, he spun so quickly at the sound of more people coming downstairs that he stepped on the creaking stair another time. “Bloody hell!”, both Hermione and Ginevra wore black dresses and vests, make-up and had their hair done as well. “You’re serious then, you are?”, he squeezed himself against the handrail to let the girls pass, whose surprised looks at the mysterious noise from the stair had only lingered for a second.
“So should be you.”, his sister huffed, arriving on the kitchen floor. “Is it really asked to much?”
“They didn’t turn up for Fred’s, did they? Or Remus’ and Tonks’ – ”
“That is something very different.”, Hermione aspirated, her beaded bag around her shoulder and a small silver locket resting on her chest, gazing at Harry.
“No, it isn’t. And why do you go, Harry? You hate them!”, no answer from him, yet quite a piercing stare at her for answering.
“Well, I can understand that unlike him, you don’t want to hustle from one funeral to another. Seeing you consider him to be your best friend, you should be proud. And at least this time it’s people we know.”, Harry continued his glare so unmistakably like his father would have done.
“Mum and Dad know that we’re going. We’ll stay for the banquet, if there’s one – and if they let us. So don’t expect us back too early, brother-sweet.”
“Blimey – ”
“Good night, Ronald.”, Ginevra grumbled while helping Harry with his suit coat and failing at the attempt to bring his hair in order. “Oh goddamned.”, she mumbled. “That’s even worse than mine.”, she hadn’t worked too hard on straightening her hair today, so it was framing her face in rather elegant waves.
“I told you. It’s horror to cut systematically.”, Hermione sighed, her own bushes sitting on her shoulders.
“Give it a rest.”, Harry groaned his first words of the day and slipped two wands in his pocket.
“Good night?”, Ron murmured.
“Yes.”, Ginevra pouted and walked out into the garden, holding hands with Harry, and followed by Hermione who gave Ron a slack wave.
The air was slightly warm already, signifying the imminent arrival of June. After shutting the door, Hermione waded through the high grass, happy that her dress only reached her knees. But the high heels she had once sworn to burn, made it rather difficult for her to stand. Nevertheless she reached her friends and took their hands. Being the most awake of them, she thought of the tall iron gates of Malfoy Manor, turned on the spot and pulled them with her.
Seconds later they stood at the dark bars that rose up to the sky. A tall witch and wizard in brown Dragon skin robes were posted at the entrance, stiffening as the three approached them.
“Identification?”, the man coughed.
“I think that is hardly necessary.”, Hermione said snooty.
“Hermione,”, Harry warned.
“You have been at my job interview for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”, the man contorted his mouth, thinking. “That is Harry Potter himself, if you aren’t sure where you have seen his face. Your colleague even! And you might also be familiar with Arthur Weasley’s daughter Ginny, co-leader of Dumbledore’s Army. Enough of the identification?”, she sang.
“Alright, alright.”, the man grunted. “What is that?”, he pointed at the purple pouch.
“That is called a handbag, Marty.”, the female guard whispered sideways to him. “Women tend to carry such,”, neither of the three could fully hold back a snicker, but he hadn’t noticed.
“Anything special in there?”, Hermione pulled her wand, a big lace handkerchief and, to Harry’s disgust and Ginevra’s amusement, a sanity pad and some tampons – yes, she was used to be prepared for odd situations by now. “That’s – enough.”, murmured the man called Marty. “And you? Any more of that horrible stuff as well?”, he brandished at Ginevra’s black handbag.
“Does that look like a Dementor would fit in?”, she snapped.
“Why don’t you just let them through.”, the female guard sighed and drew her wand. “We are guarding a funeral, not the Quidditch World Cup. There’s not much left of that family that can be killed.”
“Thanks!”, Harry chuckled high-pitched and even more disgusted than he was of the white things that found their way back into Hermione’s wonder-bag.
“Any time, Potter.”, the woman waved her wand and a humming sound emerged from the gate before it opened for them.
“Goodness, this society is really going to the dogs.”, Hermione hissed when they strolled on. “One day you have to prove that you’re not yourself, then that you are yourself – ”
“Shut it.”, Harry grumbled. “They’re Witch Watchers. All they get to see of the world’s McGallaham, their home, the place they need to guard and those few yards in between they have to take walking. That Marty’s probably not even gotten a glimpse on any newspaper since he graduated. Just so you know, they’re not my colleagues. That’s two completely different offices in the department. And that’s good the way it is. We don’t need any nosy kids drilling their dripping snouts into our records.”
“Harry!”
“There’s no sense in putting lipstick on the big fat pig that’s fed with tax revenues for hilariously minor work. You know yourself that each of us three here can do better shields to guard areas. All those Witch Watchers are just there to embellish the unemployment rate. An Auror would have checked even our bumholes for hidden objects – or for something as simple as an Extension Charms to carry around an arsenal of books which could be used to beat the population of an entire country to death. So don’t even dare to defend again what you just tricked by snapping at.”, he at last managed to shut Hermione’s mouth that had widened again and again with every sentence of his, failing to protest.
None of the famous white peacocks strode along the path. The gardens were empty. Hedges like high walls of a prison. A fountain, pouring water for nobody. Tall windows of ancient glass, cold hollow eyes staring down on dead grounds. Big wooden doors, closed. Only a handful of weeks ago two of them had been captured and locked into the cellar – to now walk towards the building for mourning for one of the guilty?
Harry resisted a laugh. There was a sheet of parchment pinned to a bush, an arrow on it, drawn with ink. They followed it through more rows of hedges. A labyrinth with a strictly marked way. Long minutes and more parchments later, a park in the park. An old oak, a single huge grave under it. Many names carved into the black stone and gilded afterwards. On bars over the pit, a noble black coffin. Green branches, wound like serpents, formed some sort of elegant arrangement. No flowers. Long white peacock feathers woven into it. A photo in front.
All three of them were surprised they would bury him as Muggles would do. Facing the coffin, stood a number of simple black chairs. Empty like the Manor. In fact, there were only five people around. Harry knew they were early, but he couldn’t deny it hurt him a little. Kingsley Shacklebolt and a man he didn’t know, were talking to Narcissa Malfoy, all dressed in fine black robes, she with a flat hat a veil was attached to, which hid most details of her face. A little aside, Draco had a conversation with – Luna?
That was truly a surprise. Her shining white dress and blond mane didn’t fit here at all. Like an angel she stood next to the tall, slender young man. Looking at them now, Harry thought that they could have actually been relatives, telling from the colour of their hair, skin and eyes. Around her neck she wore a long silver chain and a white string, each with a stoppered, dangling phial. They contained some silvery, swirling essence which he immediately recognised to be extracted memories. What were they about, he wondered, as he stared at the round, silvery, glittering handbag she carried on her shoulder with a long strap. Luna’s father was nowhere to be seen. Both Ginevra and Hermione walked over to them, but Harry’s attention was caught by the photograph on the coffin. Hesitantly, he stepped closer.
His heart jumped and hurtled into his stomach, making it crumple under the weight. Muted laughter. Bright smiles of long gone days. The face of a much younger Lucius Malfoy than he had known, laughed back at him. It was a warm laugh, filled with happiness. But it wasn’t him, who gave Harry chills. It was the man to his left, an equally cheerful laugh in every line of his silent face that was framed with chin length, bouffant black hair. Harry’s jaw slowly dropped. Why? Why, he thought. Why had he never seen that smile, that laugh? Why had he never gotten to see it? Had he lost it over the years? Had the death of his, Harry’s, mother really shattered him so much? Or already that of his own? Harry couldn’t tell whether the photo had been taken before that Hallowe’en or after, couldn’t guess their exact age.
His emotions were back at the Astronomy Tower, only worse. Once more, he tried to lock away the voices. Yelled at them in his mind. Screamed for them to leave him alone. He didn’t want to hear them. Not now. Not when he stared at a completely different image of a man than he had thought he had known for years. He felt stupid. Utmost stupid. The voices fell silent the moment he started to whisper at the photo, fighting tears and a monstrous knot in his throat.
“I – I don’t know – whether you can hear me – ”, he took a short glance around to check whether he was alone and no one could eavesdrop, “But I – you know, I don’t care, actually. I don’t care whether you can hear me. I just – wanted to say – I – I’m sorry – ”, Harry sighed and scratched his suddenly itching neck in thoughts. “Sorry that I’ve been rude. You – you didn’t deserve that. Oh well, you did, somehow. But still, you know? And – and thanks – for – er – thanks for loving my mother. Thanks – for – ”, he took a deep breath, “Thanks for saving my life. Thank you – for keeping an eye on me all the time. I know I said that before, but I – I’m not sure if you understood. I meant it. And do it still. Please forgive me. I – don’t know – where I’d – ”
Harry froze, his widened green eyes rushing from the photo to where his hand instinctively moved, but not dared to touch. He had felt it. Like then. Like years ago, when he had stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. But again, there was no hand on his shoulder. No hand to find its way there. Only tears that stood in his eyes and a soft gust of warm wind against his cheek for a second or two, like the hint of a loving kiss.
“Hey.”, Harry’s hand dropped hastily, and his head turned to the left.
“Hey.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”, his new company’s eyes were sunken in, but he didn’t look like he had cried.
“Yeah.”
“I mean, you sit together at dinner – and talk – and he smiles at you – and you know that there’s something wrong with that smile – but you don’t bother, you know?”, all Harry could do was to nod limply. “It had been like that for a long time – but you know it’s slightly different – still you don’t bother – it’s – he gets up – says goodnight – walks away – you – you don’t think anything – ”, Draco swallowed, “Anything could – you say goodnight to your mother as well – and – and – go to your room but – ”
Harry knew what would come. And it actually came, more quiet, more hollow. He admired him. He admired his strength so much in that moment that he –
“Then you hear her – calling for him – and you run out – wonder what’s wrong with her – you help her searching – and search everywhere – and in the hall – and all you find – “, he swallowed another time, “Is an empty chair under the – the chandelier – and a wand dropped next to it and a – rope – ”, his voice became gargling, “Hanging down – and you don’t know why – you want to help – but you – can’t – you hear her crying – but you just can’t – you can’t cry – somehow – you can’t cry – you – you knew it would be happen – just not that way – you know you would’ve thrown yourself over a cliff or something like that, but just not – and then you realise that you’ll never cry – not for him – y-you can cry for everyone – simply everyone else – you can cry for his best friend – for people you never even knew but – but not for your – your own father – you – just can’t – no matter if you try or not, you can’t cry – because you knew – ”, after a short pause, he added one more breath, “Or so – ”, he whispered, then he broke off at last.
Dryness had crawled up Harry’s throat. He couldn’t look at him. Nor at the photo. All sorts of emotions he had ever had the displeasure to have felt, now poured down on him, so many they suppressed his tears. So heavy that he somehow understood him, understood why Draco couldn’t cry.
“I know – ”, Draco raised his whispering voice again, only faintly audible. “Sounds like I’m a complete dick – ”
“Not at all – ”, Harry countered equally low.
“No?”
“No.”, luckily Ginevra and Hermione joined them, so neither had to linger in their woe any longer.
“Thanks for coming.”, Draco said tired; Harry could only nod again, his watering eyes turned on Hermione who held her hand on her mouth when she spotted the photo.
“Oh my goodness – ”, Ginevra aspirated, blinking at the moving photo as well, tears coming which she failed to control. “Hermione – ”, her friend only swallowed behind her hand, an awkward smile drifting into her face when Ginevra laid an arm around her.
“It’s alright.”, she whispered back, lightly shaking her head, dropping her hand. “It – it’s alright.”
“No.”
“I said, it’s okay.”, Harry took his eyes off them and mindlessly put his hands in his pockets – feeling two objects he had almost forgotten.
“Er – I’ve got something for you,”, he took out one of the wands and held it towards Draco. “Olivander said it changed its allegiance, but I think, now that I have my own back, I might leave it to you again. I think – it might want to return to you. I felt something like that.”
“You – ”, he gazed at the hawthorn wand and limply took it with his right hand, “You fought Voldemort with that – ”, the three startled.
“Er – yeah!”, Harry breathed, stunned by the fact that he had said the name. “But it’s yours, right? So – naturally – I thought, you should have it – no matter whom it might wish to belong to.”
“Alright.”, he still looked marvelled and held it up in front of his face.
The other four people watched him as well, as he gave the wand a silent wave and bluish, silvery white light emerged from its tip, streaming into the air and parting from the wand in shape of a crow.
Ginevra tripped. Hermione had collapsed to her knees and pulled her with her. But she didn’t cry. The ginger though more than before; still soundless; when she recognised the shape of the Patronus. The crow gently landed on Draco’s shoulder. He switched his wand to the left hand, turned towards the girls on the grassy ground and offered Hermione his right.
“I know.”, he whispered softly to the dumbfounded young woman and pulled her up, supported by Ginevra.
“You know?”, the latter asked, her voice a little shaking.
“Yeah. I can put one and one together, you see? Did you actually think, I didn’t recognise the second voice?”
“Second voice?”, Hermione gasped and Ginevra blushed barely noticeable under her veil of tears.
“And it’s been too obvious. We shared plenty enough time for me to find it confirmed. I just wonder, how you can live with that.”, the last sentence was addressed to Hermione again.
“Live with what?”, murmured Hermione.
“Skipping so fast.”
“Ski- I beg your pardon?”, she got louder. “I’m not skipping! Not at al!”
“Sure.”, Draco curled his mouth, slightly angry.
“She didn’t skip.”, Ginevra snarled and the tears stopped flowing almost instantly as if someone had turned off a tap. “He knew and was fine with it. He knew it couldn’t be, once Voldemort would figure out a specific thing. So he accepted the other way.”
“Is that so?”, the Patronus on his shoulder commented his words with a screech.
“Yes!”, both girls hissed.
“Okay, okay!”, he raised his hands in defence.
“Draco – ”, his mother called, her voice crooked.
“Sorry – I – didn’t mean to – ”
“Forget it.”, Hermione sighed.
“No – ”
“Forget it, alright?”
“I am surprised to see you here.”, Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice made them wince a little and the four spun around almost together. “Harry, Hermione, Ginny,”, he nodded briefly at each of them.
“Hi.”, Harry chuckled, somewhat exhausted. “Yeah. Same.”
“I did not overlook that Lucius Malfoy was a good man, deep in his heart.”, his son shuddered and turned his head at another call of his mother.
“I meant us, too, actually.”, Harry smirked.
Only then, the four teenagers saw who had taken a seat next to Luna who sat to Narcissa’s right, in the front row. He, in a slightly worn-out black robe and cloak and she in a self-sewn, wide, black dress, Mr and Mrs Weasley gave them a hasty wave.
“Tell me, am I the only one here who doesn’t know a thing?”, Harry whispered to Ginevra when the five of them walked over to her parents. “What was that all about?”
“That’s none of your business.”, Harry frowned at the court answer.
“If it’s got to do something with Voldemort, I need to – ”
“It’s nothing important, really.”
“Sounded just slightly different, you know?”, he huffed.
“Hello.”, Luna’s dreamy sing-song voice blighted Harry’s attempts of protest.
“Hi.”, he sighed.
“Mum?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Can – ”
“Oh – of course, darling.”
She and her husband moved three seats to their right so the friends could sit down. Draco took the chair to his mother’s left and she grabbed his hand with a sad smile through her veil. The crow still rested on his left shoulder. But the moment Kingsley wanted to join him on the free left, there was a loud crack, making them all slightly jump and the Patronus vanish.
A small, bony figure shuffled through the grass past the Weasleys, not deigning them a look. He only threw a short glance at the coffin before he stopped in front of Harry and bowed lightly, Regulus’ golden locket dangling at the height of his knees as he did.
“Kreacher has been granted by young Master Draco, to do the Master’s noble father a last honour when Kreacher is done in the kitchen. Kreacher has finished now and asks if Master Harry agrees with Master Draco’s wish.”
“Sure, Kreacher.”, Harry scratched his neck. “You – can sit down on the chair to his left. Kingsley?”, that one nodded.
“Kreacher does not like sitting on chairs, but he will do as Master Harry says.”, he bowed again.
“No, Kreacher. Of course you can sit or stand or kneel or even lie wherever you like to.”, he considered. “And if you – feel the urge to – to cry or laugh or whatever – you’re allowed to.”
“Master is too good to Kreacher.”, the Elf muttered gargling and made another bow. “Kreacher thanks Master Harry.”
“Any time.”, Harry chuckled, noticing Hermione’s happy half-smile in the left corner of his eye and watched Kreacher shambling over to his other master, where he knelt into the grass in front of him, facing the grave.
With a sigh, Kingsley made himself comfortable on the chair at last and the man Harry didn’t know, approached the Malfoys after he had checked a silver pocket watch. He lightly bent down to them. Right when he opened his mouth to say something, a scuffing sound came from the end of the hedges. Covered with a green and black chequered suit, his belly appeared before he did, it and the cloak of a different shade of dark green bumping with every step. Halting shortly to get an impression of the scene, Horace Slughorn walked on towards the funeral party. His crunched, forced smile drifted over the single row of people, greeting them all with nods, his lips soundlessly calling their names. At Harry’s even a whimper escaped him, but it was only little and pathetic.
He came to stand in front of the Malfoys, stepping back with shock as he almost kicked Kreacher. Logically displeased, the Elf gave him a murderous look. Blinking down for a moment and muttering something about being sorry, he shook hands with Narcissa and Draco, the gesture slack and despondent. Harry remembered to have seen a photo of the Slug Club on his shelf including a young man with long blond hair. That was the reason why Slughorn had come. He wanted to say a last goodbye to a former beloved student.
Harry didn’t hear what he said to them. Hermione distracted him by rummaging in her pouch. Giving a frustrated snort, she picked her wand from the top of it and pointed it inside. Before Slughorn could walk on, she stopped him and held up a thin, rectangular present, wrapped in parchment and decorated with a purple ribbon. When he raised his brow, his eye popped out as usual.
“I – I wanted to give this to you quite a while ago, Sir.”, she whispered. “Then – um – you know – things went very fast and we were already on the run. Back at Hogwarts – well – ”
“Yes, yes, Miss Granger.”, he sighed. “I know very well what happened.”, he took the parcel, examined and lightly shook it. “But what is this?”
“Just something I know you would like to have.”, Hermione’s cheeks flushed. “But please don’t open it here.”
“If you insist so,”, he dropped his shoulders and trotted to the one of the two seats in the row that was still empty next to the Minister.
Narcissa gasped. Her son laid almost flat over her lap, supporting himself on her thighs. Questioning, he looked past Luna at Hermione, bundles of his slightly greasing shoulder-length hair sliding past his ears. Harry frowned as Ginevra did the same over his legs. Hermione opened her mouth, seeking for words to circumscribe it.
“It – it’s paper.”, she rolled her eyes, curling her lips.
“Paper?”, the two asked.
“Um – ”, she looked at her wand, closed her eyes, took a deep breath and swung it. “Now combine.”, Hermione snorted, watching the shining otter swim through the air, around her and settle down on her shoulder. “Oh don’t look at me like that.”, she hissed at the Patronus and it vanished.
“Soliloquising already, are you?”, Draco smirked.
“Shut up.”, Hermione mumbled.
“You mind if I ask – do you have another?”, she blinked, her mouth even more gaped than before.
“Pardon?”, she murmured. “You have one! Let me mine, will you, you selfish Gargoyle!”
“I was just asking!”, Draco moaned, raised as well, crossed his arms and stared at the ground, having a hard job to not look at Kreacher who eyeballed him, literally.
“Just – ”, Ginevra snickered and raised, “Shut your mouth, you! Honestly!”, Hermione cried.
“Yeah. Honestly. What’s this about?”, Harry gnarled enraged.
“I could ask the same!”, Narcissa aspirated.
“Nothing.”, Draco muttered, angry with himself. “Let’s just – forget it and – get him down already.”
“Draco!”, his mother gasped again.
“It’s tr- ow!”, his hand rushed in his neck and he turned to see who had attacked him. “Kingsley! What was that for?”
“I have done nothing – ”, the Minister was confused.
“Don’t – ”, Draco’s head spun again, “Hermione!”
“What!”
“Was that you?”
“Was I what?”
“You’re the only one with a wand out! It was you! What was that for?”
“I have no idea what you mean!”, she yelped.
“Is that a framed photo, Miss Granger?”, Slughorn interrupted absent minded; he had studied the parcel so deeply in thoughts that he seemed not to have noticed anything that was going on.
“Oh please!”, Hermione moaned and buried her face in the hands on her lap, rolling in like a hedgehog. “This can’t – I’m – ”, she brushed back her hair and got up, “I’m out of this.”
Draco jumped from his chair as well, storming after her. Thanks to her high heels, he could catch her halfway to the hedge, all other looks puzzled on them. He reached for her wrist, grabbed it and turned her in mid-walk, facing an upset expression.
“What!”, she hissed.
“No.”, he said calm, but swallowed, thinking. “No.”
“`No´ what.”, she got to her senses again and penetrated his eyes with hers.
“He – ”, Draco took a deep breath, “I don’t think he would have wanted that.”, Hermione just glared up at him, waiting for more to come. “That we fight on his friend’s funeral.”
Her head and shoulders sank, all tension gone and she let out a sigh. Draco lowered his head as well, letting go of her arm and gazed over to the coffin.
“Look – I’m – ”, he turned back to her, “I’m sorry. I was being childish.”, Hermione shook her head.
“No. Me too. I shouldn’t have given it to him in front of everyone.”, she bit her lower lip.
“What is this that you’re playing there?”, Harry pleaded, leaning onto his thighs with crossed fingers. “I mean, you lot obviously know things I don’t, but I think, I’ve got the right to know as well, don’t you too?”, Draco’s mouth curled and he sniffed before he fully turned to him.
“He liked you.”, he said gently.
“Sorry?”, Harry murmured.
“He really did.”
“Er – ”
“And that’s the full truth.”, he said sadly upon Harry’s bewildered face. “Now let’s get this over with.”
“Well, I know he must have, in some way. Figured that out by now. Just, what – ”
“He was very proud of you.”, Draco moaned.
“Well, thanks!”, Harry sang, made a languid gesture and leaned back again, crossing his whole arms and legs now. “But that still doesn’t explain the quarrelling you’re having here.”
“There are things you’ll never understand.”
“Then make me – ”
“Jeremy – ”, he ignored him, “Do what you’re here for.”, the man was as stunned as Harry, his stare following Draco and Hermione who went to take in their seats again.
“I – ”
“Just do it.”
“Should we not wait some more minutes? In case someone else is coming?”
“No.”, Draco’s tone was definite. “No one else will be – ”, but he was wrong.
A girl between the hedges cleared her throat. Or so everyone thought. Within seconds, she coughed heavily and reached into her bag, taking out a metal box with cough drops. While Hermione was already watching her from her chair, Draco was still on his feet, halfway to his. Once the drop was in the blond girl’s mouth, her coughing was gone and so was the box, back into her handbag. Everyone who had been at the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, knew the dress she wore under the black cardigan, but none of them could miss that it wasn’t nearly sitting as tight as then. Apart from that, she looked rather haggard as well. Draco turned and went to greet her, much to Harry’s surprise, with a mutual long embrace and short, tender kiss afterwards.
“Sorry I’m late. I’ve been held up.”, she whispered.
“It’s okay. You’re here now.”
“Am I really the last?”, Hannah peeked past him, giving the one and other nod and faint smile.
“The best always comes last.”, that made her huff.
“I didn’t come to listen to such.”
“Sorry.”, Draco smirked, fondling her cheek. “Come over. We’ll talk later.”
“Sure.”
~~#~~