Errands
Chapter 3: Errands
Draco stepped out of the Floo and into the crowded Leaky Cauldron. His mother was waiting just to the left of the Floo and he followed her out of the pub and into the bustling streets of Diagon Alley. The alley was packed full of parents and students rushing about for their last minute school supplies.
A violet purple flyer was swept up by the crowd and floated between pedestrians until it slapped against Draco’s chest. He pulled the piece of paper from his front and glanced at it.
MAGICAL ME! GET TO KNOW EVERYONE’S FAVORITE AUTHOR: GILDEROY LOCKHART!
BOOK SIGNING TODAY:
Flourish & Blotts
12:30P.M. to 4:30P.M.
Draco scoffed before wadding the flyer up into a ball and tossing it in a nearby garbage bin. Great. The whole alley is flocking to see this moron.
Narcissa had also seen a flyer and made a break for Flourish & Blotts . Draco rolled his eyes and went in search of Granger. She hadn’t given him a time or place to meet, but he figured she’d have to go to Gringotts first to exchange her Muggle money. He just hoped she hadn’t already arrived.
Draco stood at the top of the white marble steps, leaning cooly against a large pillar. From up here, he could see the heads of all the passersby—a few pointed witch hats, an occasional cloak with the hood pulled up, then… there !
A head of bushy brown curls bounced, hand-in-hand with two older…
Muggles. Her parents were Muggles. Draco knew, of course, but he hadn’t even thought that meeting her here would mean meeting her meeting parents as well. He’d never even spoken to a Muggle before. As he was contemplating, his choice was made for him.
Her big brown eyes flicked up to where he stood and a large, toothy grin emerged across her freckled face. She was tanner than she was last school year, the sun clearly bringing out the rich olive tones in her skin. She bounded up the large steps and he braced for impact. However, unlike Pansy, she slowed as she neared him. Her parents looked like they would follow, but Granger gave a quick shake of her head and a smile to indicate she needed a moment alone. Draco quirked an eyebrow at her and smirked.
“So how was your summer?” She shyly glanced down at her toes and wrung her hands nervously.
Draco paused, how much should he share with her? Surely she would be the only student he knew that could appreciate his Occlumency training, but it would be prudent to keep that skill to himself, at least for now.
“It was…educational,” he began, being purposefully vague. “I spent a great deal of time at the Zabini Villa in Italy. How was your summer?” He didn’t have to pretend to be interested, he was truly curious about what she had been up to.
“Oh, nothing. I just spent some time with my parents. Half of it was spent at their practice just helping clean the rooms after patients and filing papers,” her cheeks tinged pink from embarrassment.
“Are your parents Muggle healers then?” Draco wasn’t surprised if they were. She was so intelligent, and healing was one of the most intellectually stimulating fields of magic to go into.
“Ahhh, not completely. They’re dentists,” she paused to search for recognition on his face. When she found none, she continued on, “they tend to people’s teeth…it’s like a specialized healer for the mouth.”
Draco schooled his features. Of course, Muggles can’t just magic their teeth clean or straight. I suppose they’re probably not immune to breakdown of their teeth either.
She was still waiting for Draco to respond when he spotted a head of long platinum blonde hair heading toward the steps.
“I’m so sorry, Granger, but my father’s about to come and ruin our chat.” Draco sent her an apologetic smile and grabbed one of her hands with a subtle squeeze. She looked in the same direction his father was coming from and just nodded knowingly.
“We’ll catch up on the train then?” She called after him, as he was jotting down the steps. He paused and threw a wink back up in her direction, and she blushed.
He reached the bottom of the stairs just as Lucius appeared. “Father,” he greeted.
“Draco, how was Italy? Severus and your mother informed me of your progress,” he drawled, leaving his face an expressionless mask and making a point to ignore Draco’s little rendezvous. He knew he would be berated for it later in some fashion—the Malfoys had a reputation to keep in tact after all.
“It was relaxing, I suppose. We brushed up on our flying a bit to get prepared for Quidditch tryouts if there’s even any spots open this year,” Draco crossed his arms and gave an angry grunt.
“Don’t worry Draco, I have a gift for you—”
Draco stopped listening. His father was always buying him things, but never actually spending time with him anymore. We used to be so close…I guess that’s the price a Death Eater’s son pays…No that’s not entirely fair. He’s a spy—of course he’s busy. He has to report twice for everything. I just can’t help it though. How does mother stand it? I just feel so angry when—if he’s around now!
Lucius led his son down to the end of Diagon Alley and they approached a warped wooden sign indicating they were entering Knockturn Alley. Draco had never been down this way before. He knew his father had business here occasionally, but his mother often warned him away from wandering down this far.
They passed several pubs, Dark Arts book shops, and Dark Artifact sellers until they found Borgin & Burke’s . As they crossed the alley, an old decrepit witch stalked toward them and grinned with moss-covered teeth…she was carrying a tray of what looked like various types of fingernails. Draco gulped and the witch closed the distance quickly. Just before the woman could grab at his robes, Lucius whipped around and sent the witch an icy glare.
The witch immediately recognized Lucius. She dropped her head and began furiously muttering apologies and excuses while simultaneously begging him not to hex her. She scuttled back into a dark corner of the alley. Lucius gave Draco a sharp look of warning to stay close.
As they entered the shop, a bell clanged, and the door quickly shut behind them with a snap. His father crossed the shop, looking lazily at the items on display, and rang a bell on the counter before turning to Draco and saying, “Touch nothing, Draco.”
Guiltily, he withdrew his hand from a cabinet containing a glass eye he thought looked rather creepy. “I thought you were going to buy me a present.” The disdain in his voice was evident, but Draco knew his father’s attention wasn’t necessarily on him.
“I said I would buy you a racing broom,” his father retorted, drumming his fingers on the counter.
What?! When did he say that? I must’ve stopped listening on the way here, but what good is that going to do if I don’t even make the team?
“What’s the good of that if I’m not on the House team? Harry Potter got a Nimbus Two Thousand last year. Special permission from Dumbledore so he could play for Gryffindor. He’s not even that good, it’s just because he’s famous... famous for having a stupid scar on his forehead...”
School hadn’t even started yet and Draco could feel a dripping hatred for Potter gleaning it’s way through his veins. He continued to peruse the little shop and bent down to examine a shelf full of skulls.
“... everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick —”
“You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” Lucius stopped him, with a quelling look at his son. “And I would remind you that it is not — prudent — to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear — ah, Mr. Borgin.”
‘Appear less than fond’ my arse. I’m not one of your little assignments that you can manage and control. Maybe if Potter didn’t have such a stick up his arse and literally get away with breaking EVERY. SINGLE. RULE!
A stooping man had appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair back from his face.
“Mr. Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again,” said Mr. Borgin in a voice as oily as his hair. “Delighted — and young Master Malfoy, too — charmed. How may I be of assistance? I must show you, just in today, and very reasonably priced —”
Lucius held a hand up to stop the wizard from continuing his clearly practiced sales pitch.
“I’m not buying today, Mr. Borgin, but selling,” his father said shortly.
“Selling?” The smile faded slightly from Mr. Borgin’s face.
“You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids,” said the elder Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. “I have a few — ah — items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call...”
Mr. Borgin fixed a pair of pince-nez to his nose and looked down the list. “The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?”
Lucius’s lip curled up into a sneer as he looked down his nose at the greasy man.
“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act — no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it and as you see, certain measures of these poisons might make it appear—“
“I understand, sir, of course,” said Mr. Borgin obligingly. “Let me see...”
“Can I have that?” Draco interrupted, growing bored and pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.
“Ah, the Hand of Glory!” said Mr. Borgin, abandoning Lucius’s list and scurrying over to Draco. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir.”
I am well aware of what it is and what it does, you moron. It seems you forgot it unlocks any door and knocks out the receiver as well—
“I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin,” said Lucius coldly, and Mr. Borgin said quickly, “No offense, sir, no offense meant —”
“Though if his grades don’t pick up,” said his father added, more coldly still, “that may indeed be all he is fit for —”
“It’s not my fault,” retorted Draco, turning red at the accusation. “The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger —”
I knew it. I knew he was going to have something to say about her. He’s never even met her!
“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam,” his father snapped back.
What is he playing at? Was he not championing her at Christmas with mother? Or was that just father trying to appease his wife…?
Draco heard a whisper of something coming from a large dark cabinet across the shop. He slowly continued browsing, but made his way toward it out of curiosity.
“It’s the same all over,” said Mr. Borgin, in his oily voice. “Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere —”
“Not with me,” his father said, his long nostrils flaring.
“No, sir, nor with me, sir,” said Mr. Borgin, with a deep bow.
“In that case, perhaps we can return to my list,” Lucius snipped shortly. “I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today —”
They started to haggle. Draco drew nearer and nearer to the cabinet and he could see movement through the slightly cracked doors. He continued to pretend to examine the objects for sale. Draco paused, inspecting a long coil of hangman’s rope and reading, the card propped on a magnificent necklace of opals, ‘Caution: Do Not Touch. Cursed — Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date’.
Draco turned away and saw the cabinet right in front of him. He walked forward — he stretched out his hand for the handle…
“Done,” said the elder Malfoy at the counter. “Come, Draco —”
Draco reluctantly dropped his hand and turned away from the cabinet.
“Good day to you, Mr. Borgin. I’ll expect you at the manor tomorrow to pick up the goods.”
Draco trotted quickly behind his father to catch up. They turned one corner and Lucius snatched Draco’s robes and pulled him off to the side—out of sight from the main alley.
“Wha—“ Draco began.
“Shhh!”
Draco peeked around his father’s robes and eyed a familiar mop of messy black hair and a pair of iconic round glasses. Potter .
“He was in the cabinet in the shop!” Draco whispered angrily to his father. Lucius merely nodded. “What other business do you have today?” Draco eyed his father curiously.
Had that all just been an act because he knew Potter was there?How did he know Potter was there?
“How did you—“
“Potter’s Floo signature turning up in Knockturn Alley is quite suspicious and would catch anyone’s attention, don’t you think?” Draco nodded thoughtfully. “I had business there anyway, however it was not selling anything. Mr. Burke is to inform me of a number of particular items’ whereabouts. The selling objects cover is simply to bait Arthur Weasley, if Potter decides to share his little adventure with his surrogate family. I saw them wandering Diagon Alley earlier looking for him in all the wrong places.” Lucius finished with a reminiscent smile plastered across his face.
“So what are we doing now?” Draco asked again.
“We’re making a delivery.”
…
The two Malfoys entered a crowded Flourish & Blotts to search for Narcissa and collect Draco’s new books for the school year. The store was packed wall-to-wall with middle-aged witches and Draco thought he might suffocate from all the perfume and pastel colored robes. He spotted his mother near the front of the line with Mrs. Parkinson, and took to wandering the stacks by himself while his father joined his mother.
Draco skimmed his fingers along various titles without even looking at them. He didn’t even know what section he was in until he heard stupid Potter’s name being called out by that wanker, Lockhart. What does the Wizarding World see in either of them?!
Draco moved to the edge of the crowd just in time to spot Potter being dragged to the front of the line to shake hands with the author while getting free books and a picture for The Daily Prophet .
“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” Draco sneered as he approached his classmates. “Famous Harry Potter, can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page.”
“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” said a little ginger girl—must be yet another Weasley—a Weaslette. She was glaring at Draco, and the scathing look was quite comical on her.
“Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” Draco drawled. The youngest Weasley went scarlet as Weasley and Granger fought their way over, both clutching stacks of Lockhart’s books.
“Oh, it’s you,” said the Weasel, looking at Draco as if he were something unpleasant on the sole of his shoe. “Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”
Draco scoffed. “Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” he retorted. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”
The gingers both went red with embarrassment and anger. Weasley dropped his books into the cauldron, too, and started toward Draco, but Potter and Granger grabbed the back of his jacket, the latter sending Draco a disapproving scowl.
“Ron!” said Mr. Weasley, struggling over with the Weasley twins. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”
“Well, well, well — Arthur Weasley.” Draco heard his father speak before he saw him. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, sneering in just the same way.
“Lucius,” said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.
“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear,” his father prowled. “All those raids... I hope they’re paying you overtime?”
Lucius reached into the Weaselette’s cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration. “Obviously not. Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizards if they don’t even pay you well for it?”
Mr. Weasley flushed darker than either of his youngest children had. “We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said.
“Clearly,” said the elder Malfoy snarled, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. “The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower.”
Draco winced at his father’s choice of words and tried to send an apologetic glance to Granger but she only had eyes of hatred for Lucius.
There was a thud of metal as the Weaslette’s cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Lucius, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of, “Get him, Dad!” from one of the twins; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, “No, Arthur, no!”; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over;
“Gentlemen, please — please!” cried the assistant, and then, louder than all —
“Break it up, there, gents, break it up —” Hagrid was wading toward them through the sea of books.
In an instant he had pulled Mr. Weasley and Lucius apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and his father had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding the old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, his eyes glittering with malice.
“Here, girl — take your book — it’s the best your father can give you —” Pulling himself out of Hagrid’s grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.
Draco could barely keep up, and a moment later, his mother was keeping stride casting minute healing charms at her husband’s quickly bruising face. He was shocked at the events of the day. It had started off so hopeful and ended so abysmally. Why had his father picked at fight with Mr. Weasley? Surely he knew the whole family had a short fuse…
Narcissa grabbed Draco’s hand as they reached the Apparition Point near the end of the alley. As soon as they were in range, Draco felt the pulling and twisting behind his navel as they blinked in and out of space. They reappeared at the gates of Malfoy Manor. His father had been ahead of them by seconds, but he was already halfway down the lane to the Manor by the time Draco and Narcissa passed through the gates.
“Mum, why would he do that? Why would he pick a fight with them if they mean so little?” Draco inquired earnestly. He was considerably concerned for his father, not his physical injuries as much as his mental stability.
“It was Plan B,” she stated simply. “Dobby was unable to keep Potter from leaving his home and returning to Hogwarts, so he has decided to pass an object along to the Weasley’s for disposal.”
Draco was even more confused now. An object for disposal?
“What is he getting rid of? Why couldn’t he just give it to Mr. Weasley and have him get rid of it?”
“It’s very powerful Dark Magic and your father has made quite the enemy out of Mr. Weasley, much the same way you did with Harry Potter,” one corner of her mouth quirked up in a smirk as she eyed her son. “Regardless, Arthur would not help a Malfoy if we were the only two Wizarding families left. He has no knowledge of your father’s dual agency during the war and it will be kept that way.”
“But-but father put something with Dark Magic in a little girl’s cauldron?!” Draco gasped with horror as he thought of when the transfer had to have been made.
“Yes.”
“What if Mr. Weasley doesn’t find it and she does?” Draco panicked. He wasn’t fond of the Weasleys by any stretch of the imagination, but a child being exposed to Dark Magic was a huge risk. It certainly wasn’t one Draco would’ve taken. Even low levels of exposure can cause lasting damage.
Narcissa did not answer, and her heels clicked angrily, picking up tempo at his question. From the tension she held in her posture, Draco could tell she had been less than supportive of the plan to endanger a child.
Draco tried again, “So everything’s taken care of now?”
“Almost.”
Dobby appeared with a CRACK! In the foyer as the Malfoys stormed up the steps.
“Master is needing Dobby?” The House Elf cowered in Lucius’s overbearing presence.
“You will continue with the plan, Dobby. Mr. Potter is not to return to Hogwarts this year, by all costs. He must not get on the train,” and just like that, Lucius’s word was final.