ignis aurum probat
“ NOOOOoO — ”
The scream tore through the air, raw and piercing, as if it could shred the very fabric of the atmosphere. Narcissa Malfoy flinched but forced herself to remain composed. She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves, and hurried down to the cellar of the house she had once called home. Now, it felt more like a prison—a gilded cage tainted by darkness and despair.
The scream paused for a moment, only to start up again, louder and more agonizing. Narcissa clenched her fists, forcing herself to ignore it. Her son had entrusted her with a task, and she would not fail him this time. Not after all the ways she and Lucius had let him down over the years.
She reached the cellar door and whispered, “Mippy!”
With a soft pop , a tiny house-elf appeared, her large eyes wide and ears quivering as she looked up at her mistress. “Mistress called Mippy?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Narcissa bent down to the elf’s height, her tone urgent but controlled. “Listen carefully, Mippy. We don’t have much time.” She quickly relayed her instructions, her voice a hushed whisper to avoid drawing attention.
Once Mippy nodded in understanding, Narcissa straightened and quietly opened the cellar door. Inside, two boys sprang to their feet—Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Without hesitation, Narcissa cast “Muffliato” to ensure their conversation would remain unheard.
“All of you, listen to me and do exactly as I say,” she commanded, her tone firm but urgent.
Ron burst out, his voice laced with anger and fear, “Why should we listen to a Death Eater?! Where’s Hermione?! Did you already kill her?!”
Narcissa ignored his outburst, her expression unyielding. “If you want to get out of here alive and unharmed, you will follow my instructions without question. Do you understand?”
She turned to Mippy. “Mippy, take two of them at a time. Luna, Harry—grab hold of her hands.”
Luna Lovegood moved forward, her ethereal demeanor making her seem as though she were floating rather than walking. Harry, however, hesitated. “I can’t leave yet! We need to save Hermione!”
Narcissa’s voice sharpened. “Mr. Potter, if you do not comply, I will have no choice but to use the Imperius Curse. Follow my instructions now, and we can work on helping your friend without further endangering all of you.”
Harry looked aghast, but Dean Thomas pushed him forward. “Do as she says, Harry. We’ll figure it out.” Reluctantly, Harry took Mippy’s hand, and with a sharp crack, they disappeared.
Narcissa exhaled slowly, then continued. “Ron and Mr. Ollivander, you’ll go next. Dean and Griphook, you’ll follow after them.”
The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Narcissa’s gaze swept over them. “Am I understood? Or do I need to stay here and supervise?”
Dean spoke up, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure everyone follows your orders, Mrs. Malfoy.”
Narcissa gave him a curt nod and left the cellar.
Upstairs, in Draco’s Room
Narcissa hurried to her son’s bedroom, her heart pounding. She remembered his instructions clearly. Moving to his bed, she cast “Locomotor” to lift it, revealing a rug beneath. She pulled the rug aside and whispered, “Revelio”. A handle materialized, and beneath it lay a large bag.
She paused, her hands trembling slightly as she picked it up. “Boppy,” she called softly.
The house-elf appeared instantly, ears quivering with anxiety.
“I command all house-elves to abandon Malfoy Manor within the next minute,” Narcissa said, her voice firm. “Go directly to the Malfoy Castle in the Loire Valley. Stay there unless Master Draco or I call for you, or if the home becomes unsafe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress,” Boppy replied, bowing low.
“Leave at once,” Narcissa ordered.
With a pop, Boppy vanished. Narcissa took one last look around the room, her heart heavy. Then, clutching the suitcase Draco had prepared, she apparated away from the manor she had called home for decades.
Meanwhile, in the Drawing Room
Draco Malfoy was furious. Furious at his father’s cowardice. Furious at his mother’s misplaced loyalty. Furious at the monsters who had turned his home into a nightmare. But above all, he was furious that he was powerless to stop Bellatrix Lestrange from torturing Hermione Granger.
He stood in the shadows, his jaw clenched tightly, his hands balled into fists. He had spent years perfecting the façade of a spoiled, arrogant pureblood, but beneath the surface, he was a strategist—a survivor. His godfather, Severus Snape, had taught him well: controlled and underestimated was the key to survival.
But Draco had one fatal weakness: his mother. Narcissa’s unwavering loyalty to her husband, despite his flaws, had kept Draco tethered to this life of darkness. He had taken the Dark Mark, endured brutal training, and played his part—all to protect his parents and his closest friends, Theo Nott and Pansy Parkinson.
Now, he found himself in an impossible situation. Hermione Granger, one of the few people he respected, was being tortured in his own home by Bellatrix Lestrange—a woman he was forced to call ‘Aunt.’
The moment Bellatrix had ordered the Snatchers to throw Potter and Weasley into the cellar, Draco had seized his chance. He had slipped into Hermione’s mind, using the Legilimency he had honed under Severus Snape’s relentless tutelage.
“The moment Bellatrix turns her wand on you, scream. Thrash as if you can’t endure another second. Cry. Do you understand?”
Hermione’s eyes widened, but she gave the slightest nod, her face pale but determined.
Next, Draco reached into his mother’s mind, setting the next phase of his plan into motion. He had wanted to save his father too, but he couldn’t fully trust Lucius. For now, he would have to stay behind.
Now, five agonizing minutes had passed, Hermione’s shrieks filling the air, her body convulsing under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Five minutes had passed since Draco had deployed his considerable occlumency and legilimency skills to shield Hermione’s mind from the pain and protect her secrets.
Even after the horrific torture, her mind was untouched. He had seen to that.
Bellatrix cackled, breathless with sadistic glee, and finally lifted her wand. “Not so brave now, are you, Mudblood?”
When Hermione did not answer, Bellatrix flew into a fit of rage. She screamed, “You will tell me all you know!”
Bellatrix then lowered her wand, only to reveal a Black Family heirloom, a cursed knife. Draco seized the moment and acted.
“Temporis Moram,” he whispered, and time slowed to a crawl. He removed his signet ring, transforming it into a portkey with a flick of his wrist. Kneeling beside Hermione, he touched her shoulder, pulling her into the same slowed time.
“Take this,” he said, pressing the ring into her hand. “Say ‘Draconis’ to activate the portkey. You’ll be safe.”
Hermione’s tear-streaked face stared at him, a mixture of fear and gratitude in her eyes. “Draconis,” she whispered, and in an instant, she was gone.
Draco turned to his father, casting a silent “Stupefy” to render him unconscious. “Thank you, Severus,” he muttered under his breath, grateful for the rigorous training that had prepared him for this moment.
Draco let the Temporis Moram spell fade away, and his aunt’s eyes snapped to him, sharp and calculating. She had realized instantly that something had changed.
Bellatrix raised her wand, her lips curling into a snarl as she began to cast. But months of enduring her brutal training had made her predictable to Draco. He knew her every move, her every tell.
He was faster. His wand slashed through the air, his voice cutting like a blade as he cast, “Protego Diabolica!”
Black flames erupted around him and his father, consuming everything in their path. Bellatrix and Greyback’s screams echoed as the manor burned, its wards trapping them in a fiery inferno.
The flames spread rapidly, devouring everything in their path. Death Eaters and Snatchers scattered throughout the manor and its grounds were caught in the blaze, their screams joining the cacophony of destruction. The wards that had once protected Malfoy Manor now sealed their fate, preventing any escape. The once-grand halls were reduced to ash, the opulent gardens turned to cinders, and the air filled with the acrid stench of burning wood, stone, and flesh.
When the flames finally subsided, all that remained was a smoldering ruin. Draco collapsed beside his unconscious father, his energy spent. With the last of his strength and magic, he apparated them both away, leaving the ashes of Malfoy Manor behind.