Chapter 57 Draco
Chapter 57 Draco
Draco span round to see Fred and George Weasley striding towards him with their wands aloft. They were taller than he remembered but their hair and freckles were the same.
‘I said… where the hell do you think you’re going Malfoy?’ The one on the left asked him again.
‘We didn’t think any of your lot had made it inside the castle yet, quite impressive Draco.’ The other one added sarcastically.
‘I’m not one of them!’ Draco insisted
The twins laughed.
‘Of course not! That tattoo is just artistic is it?’ Fred or George pointed at Draco’s exposed forearm and the hideous mark that lay there.
This was not going to work, nothing Draco said would convince them he wasn’t a death eater, he needed to get rid of them without a fight, but how?
He had one idea, he hated it but he couldn’t think of anything else. He set his face and pulled his mask on.
‘How’s Ginny?’ He asked trying to project confidence.
The twins looked at one another, confused.
‘Only I saw her in the dungeons earlier, and she looked like she was in a bit of trouble.’ He cringed at the cruelty in his tone.
‘What?’ The twins were pale.
‘What did you do to her?’ Anger rising in Fred or George’s voice.
‘Why don’t you go and see?’ Draco teased, hating himself as he did it.
‘If you’ve hurt her Malfoy, we will kill you.’
They didn’t want to leave him but their love for their sister was stronger than their hatred for him, they turned and ran.
Draco sagged with relief as their harried footsteps receded. He prayed with everything in him that Ginny Weasley was okay. He’d never forgive himself if something had happened to her.
He pivoted back to the gargoyle.
‘Sherbet lemon’ he said.
The griffin began to spin with the slow rumble of stone grinding against stone. It revealed a wide spiral staircase, each step shallow and perfectly cut.
Draco climbed them three at a time emerging into Dumbledore’s office, he had visited Dumbledore’s office a few times before but he’d never taken in the whole space properly. It was an odd blend of traditional and eccentric. The walls were lined with books of all sizes, shapes and colours. There were shelves that housed strange magical artefacts, a taxidermied niffler, a vase filled with a strange writhing plant, a small wooden chest inlaid with gemstones among other things.
The air hummed with magic. At the centre of the circular space was an ornate semicircular desk cluttered with papers and old quills. Tucked neatly behind was a tall burgundy chair. The various Portraits that adorned the walls chattered in hushed tones to one another, Draco cared little for what they were saying. He had become distracted by a large stone basin to his left, above the basin were small pointy vials filled with blueish wisps perched neatly on a glass shelf. Draco found himself drawn to this thing like a magnet. He ran his fingers along the rim, it was carved with runes, but Draco couldn’t read them.
‘Hello Draco.’
He was pulled from his reverie by Dumbledore’s kindly voice.
Dumbledore was on the wall, inside a gilded golden frame, lions had been carved into each of the corners. Albus Dumbledore stood serenely in the centre, wearing heavily embroidered velvet robes that were secured at the waist with what looked like curtain ties. He had a purple beaded hat and a calm smile on his lips. His blue eyes glistened with mischief the same way they had done in life. Draco had to commend the painter, they had caught Dumbledore’s character perfectly. Dumbledore smiled with his whole face as he looked down at Draco from the wall.
‘Hello.’ Draco answered clearing his throat, suddenly nervous under Dumbledore’s familiar gaze.
‘I need your help.’ Draco pleaded.
‘I am here to give it. Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.’
Dumbledore winked and Draco couldn’t help but smile.
‘I need to destroy this.’ He produced the horcrux from his pocket.
Dumbledore said nothing for a moment, he considered the box carefully before speaking again.
‘I am so proud of you Draco.’
The compliment caught him off guard.
‘W-what?’
‘I have been keeping an eye on you, with help from Vinny and a sympathetic portrait in Malfoy Manor. Your uncle Stephen, he hangs in the northern corridor, he was a reasonable man, we keep in touch. You have done so well.’
Draco was dumbstruck, he put the horcrux on the desk.
‘Don’t worry Draco, what you need his within reach. The sorting hat is on my desk, you’ll find the sword of Gryffindor within. It is inlaid with basilisk venom and will destroy the horcrux.’
‘The sword of Gryffindor won’t reveal itself to me!’ Draco insisted, his short lived relief turning into frustration.
He stepped closer to Dumbledore in confrontation.
‘I’m not a Gryffindor!’
‘Tell me Draco, what is Gryffindor?’
Draco was too tired for his games but he played along.
‘It’s a Hogwarts house, but it’s not my Hogwarts house.’
‘No. What is Gryffindor. What defines the house of Godric Gryffindor?’
‘Bravery, determination, loyalty?’
Draco answered.
‘Have you not displayed each of these traits in abundance these last few months?’
‘But it doesn’t matter! I’m still a Slytherin! I asked the hat to make me a Slytherin, it knows I’m not a Gryffindor!’ Draco implored.
‘Have you ever wondered what the point of the hat is, if he listens to where students want to go?’
Draco shook his head.
‘The choice is the whole point. You embody the traits that you wish to embody. It has always been something of a self fulfilling prophecy. We all hold aspects of each house within us. It is not black and white. Most of us would thrive in several, or all of the houses. When you were eleven you chose Slytherin, you were cunning and ambitious and you wanted to please your parents. You are a different person now. You have shown bravery, determination and loyalty in buckets Draco. The sorting hat will recognise that. Trust me. Rarely have I seen a truer Gryffindor than the one stood in front of me now.’
Draco silently absorbed his words.
‘You have proven yourself a Gryffindor Draco. If you need any more convincing, might I ask you to cast your patronus?’
Draco’s breath hitched.
‘Expecto patronum!’
A proud lion erupted from the end of Crabbe’s wand. Enormous and glowing with a bright blue light that trailed behind it like smoke. It prowled around Dumbledore’s desk before dissolving.
‘I don’t know how much more evidence I can give you Draco.’ Dumbledore looked like a smug lawyer who knew he had won his case.
Draco approached the desk, the sorting hat was on its side, ancient, it had been sewn back together and patched up a thousand times and the leather was still fraying in places. He took a slow breath, closed his eyes and reached inside. He felt nothing, he almost turned around to shout at Dumbledore for making him believe something so stupid!
But then his hand clasped onto something cold. The hilt of a blade. He pulled it free and opened his eyes. In his hand was a glittering silver sword. Several rubies were gleaming proudly on the hilt which transitioned elegantly into a perfectly polished blade. Draco could see his reflection in it like a mirror. His own shock reflected back at him. He was holding the sword of Gryffindor and next to him on the desk was the horcrux.
Draco didn’t know what to do. He’d done it. Strangely he found himself laughing. He’d done it! Except he hadn’t yet, someone could walk in right now and it would all have been for nothing. The sudden urgency panicked him. Draco opened the wooden box to reveal his own ring, tainted by Voldemort’s corrupted soul. He held the sword above his head and glanced to Dumbledore who smiled encouragingly and nodded.
Draco thought of Dudley, they could finally run away and be together now. He smiled to himself and then he brought the sword down with all of the force he could muster. It slammed into the metal of the ring with a reverberation that sent shockwaves up his arm. The ring split open with an almighty crack, and then an ear splitting scream as black smoke erupted from the ring in a tidal wave that engulfed Draco. It was thick and smelled like death. A hundred decaying hands tore at his clothing in the darkness. Draco screamed but he couldn’t hear his own voice over the deafening screech that was emanating from the ring. Draco crouched down with his arms over his head trying to drown out the sound and protect himself from the skeletal hands that were scratching and clawing at him.
The scream slowly turned to a strangled wail, it had less power, like the screamer was running out of breath. The hands became less robust, they weren’t solid anymore, they were amorphous and could only meekly pluck at him before they too dissolved into nothingness.
Draco couldn’t stand, he let himself fall onto his back on Dumbledore’s office
Floor. He had actually done it!