The Blame Game
Saturday, May 8th, 1993
“But -” Hermione stuttered as Draco finished telling her and Harry the news at breakfast the next morning. “Only a Gryffindor could have stolen - nobody else knows our password -”
Draco nodded, and she looked aghast. They couldn’t talk more as Wood gestured Draco over while barking that Harry was a ‘Slytherin spy’ which caused an uproar of Gryffindors to turn and hiss ‘Heir of Slytherin’ at him as he walked away.
“Perfect Quidditch conditions!” Wood said when Draco sat down with the team and was shoved a plate full of scrambled eggs immediately. “Everyone buck up, we need a decent breakfast.”
As the team headed out for the pitch, Weasley, Hermione, and Harry walking with Draco to wish him good luck, they were startled by Harry suddenly yelling behind them.
“The voice!” Once more, Harry looked like the maniac he had at Halloween.
Draco shook his head, feeling his stomach sink as he thought of another attack happening, when they’d been doing great, everything was fine for months and months. Why now? Why did the Heir have to attack now? He had Quidditch, for Merlin’s sake.
Hermione clapped a hand to her forehead. “Harry - I think I’ve just understood something! I’ve got to go to the library!” With that she turned and ran away, leaving Harry to continue looking around at the wall, wide eyed.
“What does she understand?” he asked, though he seemed to be paying more attention to whatever he was hearing that they weren’t.
“Loads more than I do,” said Weasley.
“But why’s she got to go to the library?”
“Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Weasley, shrugging, and Draco tended to agree, saying, “When in doubt, go to the library,” with him in unison. They smiled with a mutual understanding at one another, then turned and continued heading for the grounds.
As usual, when the team marched out, it was to an uproar of applause. Spirits were high; Ravenclaw had done poorly against Hufflepuff and Slytherin, meaning if Gryffindor beat Hufflepuff they’d rise to be neck and neck with Slytherin for the Cup.
As Wood did a warm up lap and Draco hopped on his broom, opting to do the same, soaring over the Hufflepuffs, who had formed a huddle, and then the crowd of them in the stands, trying to spot Ernie Macmillan so he could blow his hat off his head for persistently spreading rumor about Harry.
However, he’d just spotted him when he pulled up short at the sound of a magnified Scottish voice. Turning sharply, he looked down to see Professor McGonagall was running across the pitch panicky-like, shouting into an enormous purple megaphone. “This match has been canceled,” She called to the stadium, to a round of boos and shouts, and Draco frowned and flew straight to the ground, hopping off his broom, as Wood landed beside him and ran over to McGonagall.
“But, Professor!” he shouted desperately, “We’ve got to play - the cup - Gryffindor -”
McGonagall paid him no mind, instead continuing to call to the students in the stands; “All students are to make their way back to the House common rooms, where their Heads of Houses will give them further information. As quickly as you can, please!”
She lowered the megaphone, spotted Draco standing before her, and sighed rather heavily, as if all the energy had been drained out of her.
“Malfoy,” she beckoned to him, “I think you’d better come with me…”
With a horrible feeling growing in his gut Draco walked alongside her out of the stands, meeting Harry and Weasley, running towards them, on their way to the castle.
“Yes, perhaps you’d better come, too, Weasley, Potter…”
It’s not bad, Draco tried to convince himself, it can’t be. She probably just has reason to give them detention. Or maybe she found out about the Gryffindor Common Room being robbed. There had to be a reasonable explanation other than…
But she was guiding them towards the Hospital Wing, and Draco could hardly breathe, much less keep his stiff legs moving forwards.
“This will be a bit of a shock,” McGonagall told them, speaking in a gentle voice, for her at least, and pausing at the doors to the infirmary. “There has been another attack… another double attack.”
Draco’s tongue became rather heavy as his heart leapt into his throat, then McGonagall pushed the door open and the boys entered. Ever so slowly.
As usual, four beds stood along one wall, curtained off. Mrs. Norris, Colin Creevey, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Nearly Headless Nick. But two beds could now join those, uncurtained, for them to see.
Madam Pomfrey was bending over a Ravenclaw Prefect with long, curly hair, and on the bed next to her, dark skin turned a sickly gray, eyes open and glassy, frozen like a tragic statue was -
“Hermione!” Weasley bolted forwards and reached out, then hesitated, as if unsure if he should touch her, as Draco and Harry slowly walked forwards to stand on either side of him.
“They were found near the library,” McGonagall explained, “I don’t suppose either of you can explain this? It was on the floor next to them…” She held up a small, circular mirror, but they gave her barely any mind, so horror struck were they staring into Hermione’s face, twisted in place, terrified.
“I will escort you two back to Gryffindor Tower,” said Professor McGonagall, gesturing to Draco and Weasley. “I need to address the students in any case. Potter I trust you can return to the dungeons on your own. Come along…”
-*-*-*-
“All students will return to their House common rooms by six o’clock in the evening. No student is to leave the dormitories after that time. You will be escorted to each lesson by a teacher. No student is to use the bathroom unaccompanied by a teacher. All further Quidditch training and matches are to be postponed. There will be no more evening activities.”
Every Gryffindor stood packed in the common room, sitting or standing, listening to McGonagall in silence. Draco and Weasley sat in an armchair - or, Weasley did, having collapsed there immediately, and Draco leaned against it - the rest of the students giving them space, understanding how much Hermione meant to them.
McGonagall rolled up the scroll she was reading from and, in a voice choked with emotion, said genuinely, “I need hardly add that I have rarely been so distressed. It is likely that the school will be closed unless the culprit behind these attacks is caught. I would urge anyone who thinks they might know anything about them to come forward.”
She turned and climbed out of the portrait hole, leaving the students to jump into gossip. Draco sighed and rubbed at his temple, sinking down into the couch beside Weasley’s armchair.
“I don’t believe it…” He was saying, shaking his redheaded head. “They got Hermione.”
“She’ll be alright,” said Draco forcefully, “The Mandrakes are almost ready. It’s only a matter of time -”
He cut himself off, listening to Lee Jordan as he hopped onto the coffee table before the couch, as he had so long ago to joke about the arrival of Potty and the Weasel via flying car, now speaking in a solemn, if angry voice.
“That’s two Gryffindors down, not counting a Gryffindor ghost, one Ravenclaw, and one Hufflepuff,” he called to them all, counting on his fingers. “Haven’t any of the teachers noticed that the Slytherins are all safe? Isn’t it obvious all this stuff’s coming from Slytherin? The Heir of Slytherin, the monster of Slytherin - why don’t they just chuck all the Slytherins out?” His roar was met with nods and a great deal of applause, but left Draco hanging his head as he heard a couple people mutter about how they should just expel Potter and be done with it.
“Hey!” Not being able to take it anymore, Draco hopped onto the coffee table and pushed Lee Jordan aside, placing his hands on his hips to address the crowd. “So you all think it’s Harry, right?”
“Well, yeah,” said a snide fourth year girl, “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”
“Really? Despite the fact that Hermione Granger was - is his best friend?” A couple of people looked caught out, frowning. “Did you know the only reason I put aside all of my own prejudices against Muggle-borns was because Harry led me that way? What did he do for all of you last year? He beat You-Know-Who again and you’re going to stand there and repay him by spreading vile gossip about him while he’s grieving his best friend alone downstairs?! Is this really what Gryffindor is about?” He paused to take a deep breath, throwing his hands up. “If you want to place blame on Slytherin, fine by me, but I will not stand for this sort of disrespect of my best friend from my own House. Frankly, I think, you all should be ashamed of yourselves.”
He folded his arms tightly and, from the back one of the twins called, “Hear, hear!” and, without time to prepare himself, Draco was being applauded, louder than Jordan had moments ago.
“Oh! Er - Thank you,” he stuttered, awkwardly bowing before jumping off the table, blurting out an apology to Jordan for pushing him.
“Good job,” Weasley nodded to Draco, standing up from his chair. “But I think I know how we can help Hermione.”
“How so?” Draco frowned, as he was seriously lost at this point. He didn’t know who his father was working with, he didn’t know what the monster was, and his only possible lead, the diary, was gone. Stolen.
“We’ve got to talk to Hagrid.”
So, when night fell and everyone was asleep, the pair of them got out of bed, dressed again, and tiptoed down to the entrance hall, with a lot of difficulty, as everywhere they turned teachers, prefects, and ghosts patrolled the corridors in pairs. Even Peeves looked serious when they rounded a corner to find him. Draco and Weasley developed a process of firing sparks at a wall with their wands to create a diversion then run forwards while someone’s back was turned. Eventually they got to the entrance hall, and were about to move towards the steps to the dungeon, ready to fetch Harry, when something tugged on the sleeve of Draco’s robes and he spun around.
“It’s me,” came Harry’s disembodied voice as he lifted up the Invisibility Cloak for them to slip under, and they tiptoed out of the hall onto the grounds, not needing to explain to each other they were heading for Hagrid’s.
When they reached the hut, Harry knocked and within seconds the door was pulled inward, and Draco was looking the point of a crossbow in the eye.
“Holy mother of Merlin!” Draco gasped, stumbling back and clutching his chest, “You could’ve killed someone with that, Hagrid!”
“What’re you three doin’ here?” Hagrid grunted at them, not seeming bothered by Draco’s alarm as he lowered the weapon.
“What’s that for?” said Harry, pointing at the crossbow as they stepped inside.
“Nothin’ - nothin’ -” Hagrid muttered. “I’ve bin expectin’ - doesn’ matter - Sit down - I’ll make tea -”
Draco frowned as he watched him blubber around, nearly extinguishing the fire, and smashing a teapot to bits. Not a good look.
“Are you okay, Hagrid?” asked Harry. “Did you hear about Hermione?”
“Oh, I heard, all righ’,” said Hagrid, and he glanced nervously out the windows. The boys gave each other strange glances, and Draco wondered if maybe he was worried he was going to be taken away. His father had outright stated this would all be blamed on him again.
Sure enough, a knock on the door sounded and Hagrid dropped the fruitcake he was giving them. Draco stared at the door, horrified, before being pulled under the Cloak and stumbling into a corner with the other two.
Hagrid grabbed the crossbow and opened the door, and Draco released a relieved breath.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” it was Dumbledore, not his father, looking very serious but still it wasn’t Lucius Malfoy, and then following him was the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, something Weasley was quick to exclaim, which was still bad, but it was his dad… it wasn’t his dad…
“Bad business, Hagrid,” said the Minister as he sat down in a chair Hagrid pulled up for him and Dumbledore. “Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns. Things’ve gone far enough. Ministry’s got to act.”
“I never,” Hagrid turned to Dumbledore, “You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir -”
“I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence,” said Dumbledore, seriously, and the Minister shifted uncomfortably.
“Look, Albus,” said Fudge, “Hagrid’s record’s against him. Ministry’s got to do something - the school governors have been in touch -”
Dad
“Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest,” Draco was genuinely surprised by the look in Dumbledore’s eyes. Up until this point, he’d still viewed him under the rose tinted lens his father had put on him from such a young age, but now that he saw that look in his eyes, like a firing burning brightly, he saw what the rest of the wizard population saw in Dumbledore.
“Look at it from my point of view,” said Fudge, twirling his bowler hat in his hands anxiously. “I’m under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn’t Hagrid, he’ll be back and no more said. But I’ve got to take him. Got to. Wouldn’t be doing my duty -”
“Take me?” Draco was alarmed to see Hagrid looked frightened. “Take me where?”
“For a short stretch only,” said Fudge, avoiding Hagrid’s gaze. “Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you’ll be let out with a full apology -”
“Not Azkaban?” Hagrid croaked and Fudge opened his mouth to speak but a knock sounded on the door.
No. No, no, no, no, no -
Dumbledore opened the door, and Draco’s dad stepped in.
“No!” He tried to gasp but Weasley clapped a hand over his mouth, so he could only mumble incoherently as he watched his father, his own father stride in, smiling coldly. The smile of a man who had everything going his way. And, Draco had to painfully realize, he did.
“Already here, Fudge,” he nodded to Fudge approvingly. “Good, good…”
“What’re you doin’ here?” Hagrid barked at him, instantly looking stronger with hate for the man. “Get outta my house!” His beady eyes flicked to the spot where the boys were hidden and Draco realized, with a gut punch, he didn’t want Lucius Malfoy’s son to see all this. Draco really didn’t either.
“My dear man, please believe me, I have no pleasure at all in being inside your - er - d’you call this a house?” He sneered around at his surroundings in an all too familiar way that made Draco’s cheeks burn, worrying what his friends on either side of him must be thinking at the moment. “I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here.”
“And what exactly did you want with me, Lucius?” Dumbledore asked, calmly.
“Dreadful thing, Dumbledore,” his father drawled, pulling a roll of parchment out from his traveling cloak. One of his favorites, Draco recalled idly. “but the governors feel it’s time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension - you’ll find all twelve signatures on it. I’m afraid we feel you’re losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? Two more this afternoon, wasn’t it? At this rate, there’ll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an awful loss that would be to the school.”
There was a sparkle to his eyes, and Draco scowled, thinking of how he would have liked a Mudblood-less Hogwarts so desperately.
“Oh, now, see here, Lucius,” said Fudge, and Draco thought foolishly, for a moment, he might be able to stop his father. “Dumbledore suspended - no, no - last thing we want just now…”
“The appointment - or suspension - of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge, and as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks -”
“See here, Malfoy, if Dumbledore can’t stop them,” Fudge rose to his feet, looking very worried, “I mean to say, who can?”
A nasty smile spread across his father’s lips, and Draco shivered. “That remains to be seen. But as all twelve of us have voted -”
Hagrid got to his feet too, thought very fast and much more angry. “An’ how many did yeh have ter threaten an’ blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?” he roared.
“Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days, Hagrid,” his father tutted casually. “I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won’t like it at all.”
“Yeh can’ take Dumbledore!” Hagrid yelled, and Fang, his boarhound, began to cower and whimper. “Take him away, an’ the Muggle-borns won’ stand a chance! There’ll be killin’ next!”
“Calm yourself, Hagrid,” Dumbledore told the large man sharply, before regarding Draco’s father calmly once more. “If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall of course step aside -”
Fudge stuttered and Hagrid looked beside himself with anger, but Dumbledore wasn’t finished.
“However,” he said, speaking very slowly, and squinting coldly into Draco’s father’s eyes, near identical to his own. “you will find that I will only truly have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.”
As he was saying that, Draco swore he saw Dumbledore’s eyes flicker to him and his friends, but they were invisible. That was impossible.
With a frown, his father bowed to him. “Admirable sentiments. We shall all miss your - er - highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any - ah - 'killin's.’” With a final smirk he turned to the door and opened it for Dumbledore to leave out of.
Fudge looked to Hagrid, who took a deep breath then said, just as slowly as Dumbledore, “If anyone wanted ter find out some stuff, all they’d have ter do would be ter follow the spiders. That’d lead ‘em right! That’s all I’m sayin’.”
Fudge and Draco’s father locked eyes, shared a look of absolute confused, then shook it off as Hagrid pulled on his coat and started forward. Right before leaving he said loudly, “An’ someone’ll need ter feed Fang while I’m away.”
The door shut, and Draco practically ran out from under the cloak to Hagrid’s teapot and vomited straight into it.
“I was about to say ‘thanks a lot Daddy dearest’ but uh…” Weasley came to stand in front of Draco, frowning, and looking concerned. “You seem to be going through something.”
Draco emerged and wiped his mouth with his sleeve, giving them a weak smile. “Sorry it’s just… Something I ate.” He lied horribly. Harry didn’t look very convinced, but was pulled away from staring at him, concerned, but Weasley’s voice.
Draco rose and walked over to the window as he spoke, laying a hand against the glance and watching, with a sad frown as his father strode up to the castle.
“We’re in trouble now,” Weasley was saying. “No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There’ll be an attack a day with him gone.”
Draco felt much like Fang howling and scratching at the door as he leaned against the glass, wishing he could break this window and scream sense into his father that wiping the Muggle-born population from Hogwarts was horrible, and that Draco was suffering more this year because of it.
But he couldn’t, all he could do was stare, and nod and agree to all Weasley said, filled with the sinking realization that it might be too late, and his father had already won.
-*-*-*-
Monday, May 24th
Draco had never seen a summer hit the castle and be so depressing. Granted, he’d only had one other summer at this castle, but that was how horrible the atmosphere was; with the return of the monster and a double attack at that the students were all moving sludge-like, some becoming quite paranoid it might be them next, regardless of blood-status. Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw Prefect, hadn’t been a Muggle-born.
Not only that but, of course, Hermione was gone from Draco’s little friend group, and it didn’t really sink in how much she offered during mealtimes and classes with Weasley until then, though he did seem to grow a softer outlook on him.
Sometimes he would say aloud, “Hey, Hermione?” then turn and remember, and the look on his face was enough for Draco to quit the Weasley business and start calling him Ron… he didn’t though, not yet.
Dumbledore’s removal from the school, placing McGonagall in his place, also caused an uproar, as many people agreed with Weasley’s sentiment that they were doomed. Rumors that Lucius Malfoy had been the reason for it caused a great deal of tripping jinxes Draco had had to deal with in the halls, but, as he said, he and Weasley were getting closer, and he always stood up for him, rubbing his neck afterword and mumbling, “It’s what ‘Mione would’ve done.”
Harry did bring a morsel of good news to them about two weeks after Hagrid’s departure, however, saying Ernie Macmillan had finally backed off from the fear mongering towards Harry now that Hermione was attacked and it seemed obvious he wasn’t the Heir.
“Fine by me,” Draco drawled when Harry asked him desperately not to strangle him. “But give me a reason and I’ll be ready to jinx him all the way back to King’s Cross.”
Later that same day, was Herbology, where that resistance was put to the test when Macmillan and his friend Abott had the audacity to try and work with them, but Draco barely had time to process this alarming action when something else caught his eye.
Harry, desperate for any clues and answers, had tried to dissect Dumbledore and Hagrid’s last words, and led his friends on expeditions throughout the castle, searching every crack and crevice for spiders. But it seemed the peculiar fleeing Hermione had pointed out at the beginning of the year was the start of every spider leaving the castle, and they couldn’t find a single one.
Until now.
Starkly similar to what Hermione had observed, a line of large spiders was scuttling across the grounds on the other side of one of the windows in the greenhouse
Draco scrambled, tugging at Weasley’s robe sleeve, and Weasley, who’d slowly raised his head to twitch an eye at something Macmillan had just said, looked around in a alarm.
“What’re you -”
Mutely, but wildly, Draco gestured to the window, and he looked out and gave a wince-like smile through gritted teeth.
“Oh, yeah…” he mumbled. “But, look at that, we can’t follow them now -”
Macmillan and Abbott glanced at each other, looking very perturbed.
“They’re heading for the Forbidden Forest,” Draco noted, though did so with a scowl, not at all desiring having to journey into that dreadful place again. Weasley didn’t either, but they decided to tell Harry anyway at dinner. Now, they had to be escorted by Professor Sprout to Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Lockhart entered the class as Draco and Weasley took their usual seats at the front, feeling bare as always without Hermione there too, his usual jovial self, if more invigorated.
“Come now,” he placed his hands on his hips, teeth glinting with his wide smile. “Why all these long faces?”
Several people groaned as they glanced at their friends. Draco dropped his chin in his palm, not having it in himself to look at the brightside anymore; Lockhart was as daft as Longbottom, if worse.
“Don’t you people realize,” he spoke very slowly, however, as if they were the ones so daft, “the danger has passed! The culprit has been taken away -”
“Says who?” Called Thomas from the back of the class loudly.
“My dear young man, the Minister of Magic wouldn’t have taken Hagrid if he hadn’t been one hundred percent sure that he was guilty,” said Lockhart, as if they were two.
“Oh, yes he would!” Ron called out, louder than Thomas, and Draco didn’t even want to smack her or nudge him or anything. He was so… tired.
“I flatter myself I know a touch more about Hagrid’s arrest than you do, Mr. Weasley.”
“I don’t think so…” Weasley muttered and leaned back in his seat, folding his arms, as Lockhart cleared his throat and asked them all to bring out their copies of Gadding with Ghouls.
-*-*-*-
Harry seemed quite resolved when they sat down across from him at dinner to inform him of the situation and persistent on journeying in the forest tonight.
“We’ve got to. I don’t care what Lockhart says; Dumbledore’s gone. The Heir would be crazy not to attack soon.”
Draco nodded, thinking the same, and they turned to Weasley. He looked sideways at the empty space where Hermione should be and nodded firmly.
As they stood to leave after dinner, Draco hesitated and looked at this space too.
His father had hurt Hermione, there was no if’s and’s or but’s about it, he’d heard too many people this year, and maybe he was going to go to jail, Draco couldn’t watch that happen to him, but he could stop him from getting what he wanted. He could save this school, and Hermione, and close the Chamber of Secrets for good.
And that was enough.
-*-*-*-
Once again, it was hard to get out of the castle under the watchful gaze of the teachers, but easier with the cloak making them invisible, as Harry had lent it to Draco and Weasley due to them having a longer stretch to walk. They met up at the entrance hall, and left, heading down to Hagrid’s hut just as they had weeks prior.
“‘Course,” said Weasley suddenly, halfway down the darkened grounds, “we might get to the forest and find there’s nothing to follow. Those spiders might not’ve been going there at all. I know it looked like they were moving in that sort of general direction, but…”
But they weren’t turning back now. They got Fang, shutting up his maddenned barks with a brick of treacle fudge, left the cloak in the hut, and sought off into the forest.
Fang instantly trotted alongside Draco, and he rolled his eyes as he raised his wand with Harry, the two of them murmuring, “Lumos!” lighting the path so they could find any trails of spiders.
“Good thinking,” Weasley nodded. “I’d light mine, too, but you know - it’d probably blow up or something…”
Harry gestured down the path where two spiders were hurrying away, and Weasley sighed, lowering his head. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Draco let out a dry snort, as all laughter was lately - dry and drained of any and all joy - and followed after the two of them, Fang at his side.
For twenty minutes they walked, quiet so as to listen for any noise around them that might be unusual, though Draco didn’t have a clue what they’d actually find at the end of the path, especially when, after a while, after they’d walked to a point where the stars hardly shined, the two spiders scuttled off the path.
Harry locked eyes with Draco, and he knew what he was thinking; they weren’t supposed to leave the path. Hagrid had said that last year, but he also said follow the spiders. Spiders one out and, nudging Weasley and Fang on, they turned into the dark trees.
Their journey became very slow, as they had to climb over tree roots and stumps, untangle their robes from branches and brambles, and check periodically that they were still keeping pace with the spiders.
“Is it just me,” Draco asked after a while, “Or is the ground lowering?”
“It’s not just you -” Fang barked, cutting off Harry and causing Draco to yelp while the other two merely jumped in their skins.
“What?” Weasley looked around, grabbing Harry’s elbow. Draco bent on one knee and tried to scratch at Fang’s ear comfortingly, though casting cautious glances into the trees around them.
“There’s something moving over there,” said Harry, suddenly. “Listen… sounds like something big…”
Sure enough, the distinct dark shadow of something big was moving to their right, snapping branches in its path.
“Oh, no,” Weasley groaned, backing away. “Oh, no, oh, no, oh -”
“Shut up,” Harry gasped, “It’ll hear you.”
“Hear me? It’s alre -” Draco sprang to his feet and clapped a hand over Weasley’s mouth and Harry sighed, whispered, “Thank you.”
A strange rumbling sounded and they glanced around. Now Draco felt a good deal scared, too.
“What d’you think it’s doing?” asked Harry, and Weasley mumbled something under Draco’s hand. He stared, wide eyed and frozen with terror, into the darkness, shivering. After a long moment, Harry whispered again. “D’you think it’s gone?
“I hope,” Draco mumbled, then screamed, letting go of Weasley and stumbling backwards in fear. What seemed to be some sort of monster was coming towards him, with eyes of bright white light, tangled in ivy, and roaring menacingly.
“Harry!” came Weasley’s voice as if distantly as Draco scrambled away from it, panting, struggling to catch his breath. “Harry, it’s our car!”
“A - car?” Draco stuttered, squinting at the monster in the trees which… did look like a Muggle car.
“Come on!” Weasley urged and stumbled through the trees towards the light. Harry gave Draco a bewildered look then stretched out his hand, helping him to his feet (Draco tried to shove down the fluttering sensation and the way his heart pounded a mile a minute) and they bounded after him, stumbling into a clearing.
Sure enough, the car Harry and Weasley had so dramatically flown into the school at the beginning of the year sat among the trees, and the two bright white eyes had been headlights. It looked quite worse for wear, in Draco’s opinion, so that he didn’t understand Weasley’s glee as he walked around it.
“It’s been here all the time!” he said, sounding delighted. “Look at it. The forest’s turned it wild… And we thought it was going to attack us! I wondered where it had gone!”
Draco gave Harry a glance and a fond eyeroll and Harry managed a weak smile as he pocketed his wand. The headlights lit up the whole clearing, but even with all that light they couldn’t spot a single spider.
“We’ve lost the trail,” he said, sounding deflated. “C’mon, let’s go and find them.”
He gestured to Weasley, but Weasley had frozen still. He didn’t look gleeful to have found his car anymore, no, instead he was staring at something behind them. Some ten feet above and behind them, in fact. And Draco really didn’t want to look and see what it was, just from the sheer look of horror twisting Weasley’s features, but he didn’t have time to.
A loud clicking noise sounded, not like Colin Creevey’s camera, but menacing and animalistic, and next thing Draco knew he was being picked up by something long and hairy, and hanging limp face down, screaming madly as he fought against whatever was holding him tight.
He glimpsed six long, hair legs, and, turning his head, he screamed again at the sight of a pair of black pincers just above him.
A spider.
He was being carried by a giant bloody spider.
Blinded by fear and screaming for his life, Draco didn’t know how long the journey took, he only knew it was getting lighter, and all around him the ground was swarming with spiders.
Now, Draco didn’t particularly mind spiders, never had, as he had seven brilliant white peacocks to chase away bugs in the Manor, but even for someone who loved spiders… this was too many. And it only got worse.
Raising his neck he could see they’d reached a hollow, without a single tree in sight, basking the glade in light for the three boys to see a truly horrific sight indeed that made the little spiders scuttling past a million times worse.
A year ago, Draco had seen a horrible sight; Voldemort, bent over a unicorn, drinking its blood. It had given him nightmares for weeks, and he’d thought it was the worst thing he had ever seen.
In comparison, that was childsplay.
Before him now were hundreds of spiders. And not tiny spiders either, but spiders the size of cart horses. Eight eye, eight legged, big, black, hairy monsters.
Draco couldn’t even scream, for his heart was in his throat and thumping wildly out of control so that he could barely breath as the spider carrying him crawled down a steep slope and dropped him on the ground beneath a domed web at the center, which the massive spiders were quick to climb across and look down hungrily at them from, as well as closing in around all sides, clicking their pincers like mad.
Draco scrambled to his feet and looked around, panting and shivering with terror, at it all. Weasley, beside him, still sat on the ground, frozen, his mouth stretched wide in a silent scream and his eyes popping. Fang ran circles around Dracos’s feet then lowered to a cower, too terrified to even howl or whimper anymore.
The spider carrying Harry dropped him and Draco immediately ran to his side then hesitated, feeling his cheeks burn, and took a step back instead. The spider who had dropped him was clicking more sharply, and Draco realized it was speaking.
“Aragog!” it was saying, “Aragog!”
And from the middle of the domed web slowly crawled out a spider the size of a small elephant, the biggest of them all, and clearly the oldest. His eight eyes were all milky white; he was blind.
“What is it?” he said in a rumbling voice, clicking his pincers with each word.
“Men,” clicked the spider back.
“Is it Hagrid?” asked Aragog.
“Strangers,” clicked the spider who had dropped Weasley.
“Kill them,” clicked Aragog, and he sounded scared, almost. “I was sleeping…” Or tired, Draco supposed.
“We’re friends of Hagrid’s!” Harry shouted out, the brave, daft wizard he was.
Aragog, who had been turning back, paused, then said, ever so slowly, “Hagrid has never sent men into our hollow before.”
As Harry negotiated with him, still sitting on the ground, Draco looked around them and realized why; the sight was making his knees start to buckle. Yelping as the spider who had dropped him took a threatening step forward with an angry click of his sharp pincers, he fell backwards, shivering worse than before. How Harry could be so calm…
He really was a conquering hero, wasn’t he?
Draco looked up at Aragog, and listened to him explain how the school thought he was the monster in the Chamber of Secrets, and had been set free by Hagrid, but he was really born a long way away from the school and gifted to Hagrid. The real monster was an ancient creature all spiders fear, so much they could not speak its name (rather like Voldemort, Draco thought idly).
It was at that piece of information Draco looked around and sucked a breath through his teeth, gripping the grass, feeling very anxious. The spiders were moving in closer.
“We’ll just go, then,” Harry called up to Aragog, who was backing up into his web. Draco slowly turned at the sound of rustling leaves behind him and let out a quiet squeak. Too many siders to count were lowering themselves down from sloping grasses and trees at the edge of the hollow, creeping close to the three helpless students and dog.
“Go?” said Aragog. “I think not… My sons and daughters do not harm Hagrid, on my command. But I cannot deny them fresh meat, when it wanders so willingly into our midst. Good bye, friend of Hagrid.”
The spiders had formed a wall before them, and Draco sprang to his feet, holding his wand before him, Harry at his side, though they knew it was fruitless, with so many spiders… so many spiders…
A loud, long note, like that of a horn, cut through the air, and a familiar white light shined through the hollow.
“The car!” Draco cried triumphantly, finally feeling the glee Weasley had at the sight of it. It barrelled through the wall of spiders, horn blaring its way towards them, then coming to a screeching halt and flying its doors open.
“Get Fang!” Harry yelled, and Weasley, with a surprising amount of strength, seized the boarhound around the middle and chucked him into the back seat. Draco hopped in after him and slammed the door, Weasley getting behind the wheel and Harry in the passenger seat in front of him.
Without touching a button, the car roved forwards, something Draco was pretty sure Muggle cars shouldn’t do, but it did anyway, knocking through spiders like a bowling ball through pins, they sped up out of the hollow and were soon winding through a path it seemed to know well.
Weasley had been right; this wasn’t a car, it was a wild animal.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked Weasley as they moved through the undergrowth, to no response, leaving Draco to try and yell, “No!” from the backseat around fighting to get Fang off of him and away from clawing his face off.
After ten minutes they finally reached the edge of the forest and the car came to an abrupt halt which threw Draco from the seat to the floor.
Fang bounded over him, at last succeeding in making a great slash across his cheek, as he clawed at the window, Draco fumbling for the door to let him out and falling onto the grass with him.
He rolled across it for a moment, shot to his feet, and shouted, “We’re alive!” pinching himself in places and then slapping his face, feeling from the pain (especially in his face, which was certainly bleeding from that dog scratch) that he really was alive. That they were alive.
Harry patted the car and it drove off into the woods, then he turned and beamed at Draco, nodding. “We’re alive,” he sighed, and a retching sound alarmed them. Turning, they saw Weasley had run for the pumpkin patch and was currently vomiting his guts out into it.
“Follow the spiders,” he shook his head, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “I’ll never forgive Hagrid. We’re lucky to be alive.”
“I bet he thought Aragog wouldn’t hurt friends of his,” said Harry, as if this wasn’t very alarming.
“That’s exactly Hagrid’s problem!” said Weasley, thumping the wall of the hut while Harry stepped inside to retrieve his Cloak. “He always thinks monsters aren’t as bad as they’re made out, and look where it’s got him! A cell in Azkaban! What was the point of sending us in there? What have we found out, I’d like to know?”
Draco felt the same, but also knew the answer before Harry said it.
“That Hagrid never opened the Chamber of Secrets. He was innocent.”
But Draco already knew that, and the fact that he’d nearly died at the hands of a thousand hungry spiders was enough to make him want to strangle Harry, if not for the fact that he had a massive crush on him, and he couldn’t know how he knew.
Damn it, Dad.