Chapter 37 Draco
Chapter 37 Draco
Draco followed Vinny obediently, resenting every step that took him away from Dudley. As they approached the corner Draco could hear raised voices. Bellatrix was screeching.
‘ITS YOU! I KNOW IT IS!’
She sounded maniacal, completely unhinged, it was a sound that sent a shiver down Draco’s spine.
Draco stopped in his tracks, there was only one person she would be that excited about finding. Draco prayed that he was mistaken, Harry couldn’t have been captured, he was their only hope. ‘Please don’t be Harry, please don’t be Harry’ he repeated to himself as he rounded the corner into the entrance hall.
He was greeted by a strange tableaux, Lucius and his mother were stood together in the middle of the room, In front of them Bellatrix had someone by the scruff of their neck as she shouted at them. The person was limp, allowing Bellatrix to scream at them relentlessly without making the slightest move to defend themselves, they had large lumps over their face, pulling and contorting the skin painfully.
Several others were stood next to the front door still, three men were wearing grotty clothing, one had a scraggly ponytail and was holding a Hermione granger roughly by both her arms, another was wearing a floor length leather jacket and had Ron Weasley on his knees, bound with rope around his wrists, the third was inexplicably carrying the sword of Gryffindor. Draco felt like his world was ending. What was the point in any of it now? If Harry was killed here then Voldemort would live and everything Draco had dreamed about was dead, he would never save Dudley. His mind was racing with what to do, how could he get Harry out of here? He needed to think fast but his brain was empty. Time, he thought, buy yourself enough time to think.
It was Bellatrix’s voice that brought him back into the room.
‘Draco! Finally, we’ve got him. It’s Harry Potter isn’t it! Look at him! Tell me it’s him?’
Draco painted a stony indifference onto his face and stepped forwards as slowly, he bent down and peered at Harry’s distorted face. It was Harry Potter, Draco would know him anywhere. His skin was tight and looked painful, lumpy and bulging in large mounds. Draco pretended to look closely, assessing the person before him. He took his time, looking from different angles. His eyes met Harry’s and they both stilled, like each was seeing the other properly for the first time. Years of rivalry and resentment melted away. Draco tried desperately to communicate ‘I’m sorry, I’m on your side’ with his eyes but it was impossible. Eventually he straightened up looking around to Bellatrix with an empty expression. Draco could even see his scar stretched and distorted though it was, it was still instantly recognisable. Harry stared back at him with a hatred that Draco couldn’t really blame him for.
‘I can’t be sure, but I don’t think that’s Harry Potter. You’ll have to wait for whatever spell he’s been hit with to wear off to be sure. I wouldn’t call the dark lord back from his trip until we are certain.’ Harry looked slightly nonplussed by Draco’s answer, he knew Draco was lying.
Bellatrix looked completely crushed, she roughly dropped Harry on to the floor and turned to the snatchers holding Ron and Hermione.
‘Where did you say you found…’ her words trailed off and she stared open mouthed at the sword of Gryffindor resting casually in the hands of one of the snatchers.
‘Where did you get that?’ She bit out, clearly struggling to speak through her utter shock.
‘It was in the girls bag, reckon it’s mine now.’
Bellatrix said nothing, but lifted her wand
‘Avada kedavra.’ She said the spell as if it were nothing, like she was swiping an annoying fly from her face not a human being from existence. Bellatrix stepped forwards and stole the wand from the dead snatchers warm hands. Bellatrix stood stock still for a moment, a look of absolutely horror on her face, she was pale, all the blood had drained from her face leaving her ghostly white. Draco didn’t understand her reaction. Why did she care? She was a Slytherin not a Gryffindor. The sword shouldn’t have had any real significance to Bellatrix. Draco couldn’t puzzle it out, the sword was a relic, historically and culturally important but why should Bellatrix care about that? Draco glanced to Harry who was also staring at the sword like it was the most important thing in the room. He could see why Harry might care about the sword, he was a Gryffindor after all and Harry had used it to kill the basilisk in the chamber of secrets back in second year. If only Draco had known back then how much he would need basilisk venom in the future he could have collected some when he was still at Hogwarts. Somewhere in the depths of Draco’s mind threads started to tie themselves together. The sword was goblin made, it would absorb substances that made it stronger, the sword had basilisk venom inside it! The realisation made him momentarily stop breathing and he had to physically stop himself from running forwards and grabbing it straight from Bellatrix’s hands. Draco was shaking. Harry had it. Why would Harry be lugging the sword of Gryffindor around with him, unless it was important, unless he needed it for something? What was the point? Surely not sentimental reasons? Unless… but no. The idea was revolting, repulsive but Draco couldn’t deny the possibility. Could Voldemort have made more horcruxes? Was that the reason Harry was not seeking Voldemort out to kill him? Was Harry waiting because he needed to eliminate horcruxes before he would be able to succeed at killing him? Draco hoped that he was wrong, the idea of more horcruxes was repugnant, how many people had Voldemort murdered to make horcruxes? Draco remembered the vacant faces of the muggles as Voldemort ripped their souls out. The ghostly, glittering beautiful souls floating across the room into the darkness of the cauldron. He wanted to be sick, he wanted to die, he wanted to disappear, he wanted Dudley. The weight of his realisation was so heavy Draco felt like he was going to collapse to the floor. It was so much worse than he had thought, he needed to speak to Harry, he needed to know if he was right, he needed Harry to tell him he was wrong.
‘Lucius!’ Bellatrix’s voice cut through his racing thoughts.
‘Take the boys to the dungeon, I think me and granger here are going to have a little chat. Girl to girl.’
The snatcher holding Ron lifted him roughly to his feet. Lucius grabbed Harry in one hand and Ron in the other. His mother pointed her wand at them both as Lucius swept out of the room in the direction of the dungeon. Ron was struggling and shouting desperately for Hermione, arching his back to keep his eyes on her.
‘Hermione! No… leave her alone…’ his voice died and disappeared as he was forced out of earshot.
Hermione looked terrified, her mouth was open and her face was blotchy, her eyes rimmed with red. Bellatrix grabbed her and pushed her to the floor, she climbed on top of her, straddling her just like she had with Dudley. Draco didn’t move, he couldn’t. He couldn't save Hermione. Saving Hermione would mean Bellatrix would kill him, which would mean he wouldn’t be able to get the secret horcrux, which would mean Harry could never kill Voldemort. He wanted to help her so badly, but the price was too high, he couldn’t, he closed his eyes so he didn’t have to watch, Bellatrix was shouting at her.
‘How did you get it? HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY VAULT?’ She was screaming the questions directly into Hermione’s face, strings of her saliva landing on Hermione’s cheek and forehead.
‘I didn't take anything!’ Hermione insisted through her sobs.
‘I don’t believe you.’ Bellatrix whispered eerily quietly and she turned her attention to Hermione’s forearm, Draco still had his eyes shut and couldn’t see what Bellatrix was doing but Hermione erupted into fresh screams, higher pitched, they hit Draco as a physical pain and he hated himself. He felt complicit by not helping and it hurt so much. He opened his eyes to watch hopeless tears falling from Hermione’s eyes, tears that were his fault. Lucius and his mother were not here, but could he take on two snatchers and Bellatrix on his own? Absolutely not, if he’d thought it possible, he would have done it.
After an eternity Hermione’s screams stopped and Draco realised he was bleeding, he had dug his fingernails into his arm with so much force that his arm was now dripping with fresh blood.
‘Get the goblin.’ Bellatrix instructed Lucius who was now stood in the doorway, having returned from the dungeon.
His father looked wide eyed but nodded nonetheless and left again. Draco hadn’t moved from the spot, he wasn’t sure his legs could move anymore. He was paralysed with fear and shame, he needed Dudley.
Lucius hauled Griphook into the room. Griphook was struggling and fighting, like a terrier, he was kicking and snapping at Lucius who could only keep him under control by pointing his wand at him threateningly. Griphook stilled as he saw Bellatrix waiting for him in the middle of the entrance hall. She looked like a schoolteacher about to tell off a naughty child. Griphook stopped fighting.
‘Mistress’ he bowed.
Clearly these two knew each other.
‘Griphook, who took this sword from my vault?’ She said it with a surprisingly calm tone given the display she had just put on with Hermione, who was now huddled in on herself crying softly and gripping a bloody forearm. Draco wanted to go over to her but he turned his attention back to Bellatrix and Griphook.
Griphook’s eyes widened at the question and he took in the sword that Bellatrix was holding up.’
‘I don’t know mistress. As far as I was aware it was still inside your vault. I swear I don’t know.’
Griphook was backing away slowly without realising and he bumped into Lucius who was stood behind him.
‘Well it can’t be in two places at once can it?’
‘No mistress’
‘So who took it?’
‘I swear I don’t know. Gringotts is the safest place mistress. If you haven’t removed the sword it will still be there.’
‘So you’re telling me this is a fake?’
‘I-I don’t know mistress. It must be.’
Griphook looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him up, he was making his body as small as possible, hunching in on himself like a wilting flower.
The sword wasn’t real. Draco was disappointed, he hadn’t quite figured out how he was going to get it off Bellatrix but there was no point in even attempting if it wasn’t real. Killer was still their best chance at eradicating the horcrux.
Draco needed to speak to Harry. He needed to know if he was right, if there was more horcruxes. He needed Harry to see him as he truly was, to apologise even, it seemed silly but Draco needed to.
Bellatrix was now deep in conversation with Lucius and his mother, occasionally firing a question at Griphook, Draco had tuned out of their conversation.
Draco wanted to get over to Hermione, to tell her she would be okay. She was still in the foetal position quietly sobbing to herself where Bellatrix had abandoned her. But she was too far away, he would draw attention to himself if he went to her, talking to Harry was the priority. Draco quietly stepped backwards, when no one noticed he silently turned and ran as quickly as he could, making for the dungeon, aiming for Harry Potter.