The Seven Deadly Sins

"It's June 1996, midnight, and Draco Malfoy is awoken by a rude banging on the front doors of the Malfoy Manor. ..."

If he had been more alert, Draco would have opened his eyes in time to see the hard marble floor rush up to meet him as he fell out of bed and smashed his head against it. Trying to temporarily ignore the blinding pain and the star constellations that were now flashing before his eyes, he instinctively reached for the wand resting on the bedside table and gave it a determined point towards the portrait door of his bedroom. From somewhere below his floor was another cascading crash; he fumbled and dropped his wand; the noise was equivalent to a thousand plates of porcelain landing on hard rock from the sky and it was then Draco knew that they had come for him. He managed to curve his back low enough to retrieve his wand from under his bed, whilst keeping his eye permanently fixed on the door, but he knew that a wand would be useless. The words of an older alley, Thomas Montague, sparked in his head as an unwelcome reminder of what was to come:

'They'll come for you when you least expect it, when they believe you to be at your most vulnerable, two weeks to two months before your sixteenth birthday, depending on how much preparation they think you'll need. You'll be alone, they'll make sure of that, and they will kill everything in their paths to get to you. And as for running away, that is generally frowned upon, they're sort of allowed to kill you if you attempt such a thing, unless you're a special case, and 99% of the time you won't be. You'll be blinded and tied up and taken away and you won't see or hear from your family or anyone you know until after the ritual. And, unless you want to see your intestines in a heap on the floor in front of you before you die, I suggest you don't scream or anything, it really hacks him off."

Don't run, don't scream, don't do anything...Draco recited to himself, don't run don't scream don't... This train of thought lasted all of two seconds - running away was what he did best and he considered this the perfect opportunity to do so. Having picked himself up off the floor, a sizeable bump beginning to form an his brow, he flung on a cloak that had thrown messily across a chair the night before, gripped harder onto his only reassurance - his wand, and forced himself to crack upon the portrait as quietly as he could. This small action increased the noise from outside ten fold and the vibrations of the impacts could be felt underfoot with each pounding. Draco paused to admire the possibility of a break-in. It was the most improbable thing he could think of; getting into the Manor was like trying to squeeze one's head through the eye of a needle - it was a painful waste of time. He was surprised the four fire-breathing dragons that guarded the front gates had not killed whoever was brave or stupid enough to intrude. Or that they had not at least drowned in the Mote O' Blood after the four fire-breathing dragons. Though he had a feeling his father had something to do with it.

He tried to get out of his rather comatose state. The servants should have been awoken by all the commotion and noise and be currently risking their lives to see what is going on, he reasoned to himself. But as he leaned over the banisters of the stairs at the end of his corridor as far as he could without slipping and breaking his neck, he saw that the strip of ground floor in his eye line was deserted. He considered the absurd - he would go down himself to see what was going on. Hell, no, you won't, his body told him as it turned and headed speedily back towards his room. Yes, I will, Draco reasoned, treading back to where he had stood. If they were coming to get him, instead of running, maybe it would be better to give in like a man, and show no fear. He would be respected. He would be liked. They would have no doubt where his loyalties were.

He crossed over to the Silver Wing and tiptoed down the five flights of stairs from his bedroom. Every bit of wall was covered in Malfoy portraits, and paintings, and Malfoy-esque sculptures and generally creepy things that Draco had long gotten used to. He shivered as he reached the first floor; it was always freezing cold in the Manor. That was why he shivered. It's not like I'm scared or anything.

The noise downstairs had become ear-splitting and as Draco sprinted lightly across the Hall towards the great front doors they pulsed inwards as if about to come off their hinges at any moment. Draco's heart raced away and left him a stranger in his house; he was alone, nobody had come to help him and he felt he was about to be taken away in a black sack to disappear forever just like Montague. He reached the door and encircled a trembling hand on the handle.

The racket stopped immediately. Draco jerked his hand away as if the handle he touched were ice. A sick feeling began to rise in him, one he had only felt twice in his life that told him that things were not well at all. There was somebody still out there; he could feel it. He slowly reached for the handle once more. In order to get an answer to his questions he had no choice but to turn it.

There was no one there. He was met by coolness to the face, the darkness of the night sky, the endless stretch of lawn and the stony Path that led up to the front doors of the Manor. He could see the roaring dragons in the distance, undisturbed. But there was nothing.

Except for the dense and tangy smell of blood. All colour escaped Draco's face as something beneath his eye line caught him that had not caught him before. And he looked down and stopped breathing.

Narcissa had worn a long white silk dress before she had left to go out that evening. She was still wearing it, though it was now red with blood, the same blood that was splattered all over the entrance to the Manor, the same blood that lay in pools around her, its stench mingling with the cool night air. Her eyes were open and staring straight ahead without seeing. Draco knew even before he kneeled down and gently pressed two fingers on her blooded wrist, that she was dead. He screwed his own eyes tightly shut and felt the numbness overcome him, the same numbness he felt after being under the Cruciatus curse, and a sea of black and yellow poison stormed behind his eyelids and when he opened them again she was still lying there and she was still dead. Bile and nausea crawled up his throat and overwhelmed him and he choked, like he was about to throw up; he forced it down. He became deaf to the sounds of the rushing footsteps of the servants who were arriving too late to see what was going on.

Marie, a young girl who was in charge of all the other servants, was first on the scene. She opened her mouth to question him, followed his line of sight to the dead body of Narcissa and unleashed a blood-curdling scream. Draco wished she would just shut up, or even drop dead.

"Stop your squealing, this is not the time," he snarled hoarsely and she stopped abruptly, clasping a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and her face pale as winter. The rest of the help wore similar expressions, but nobody else dared to speak as Draco rested his head delicately against Narcissa's chest, and placed his hand over hers, as if expecting to hear her heart beat. He heard something beat and for a sickening moment hope fluttered in his stomach, but he realized almost instantly it was his own head throbbing with the beginnings of a headache. But it did not take long for all these senses to drift away, thanks to the overpowering numbness; he soon managed evade feeling anything at all. He considered this to be even worse than pain.

He could have stayed like that for the rest of his life. But a hand was now prodding him on the shoulder and by reflex he pushed it away roughly. Marie retreated quickly back with this action. "Master Malfoy," she said in a whisper, "What are we to do?"

Out of his dream-like state he entered a new one. Raising his head from Narcissa and shifting his weight onto his knees; his mirror-like eyes reflected the scene in front of him. "One, two, three, four, five..." Marie and the others stayed silent as he counted the bruises visible on Narcissa's face, the number of cuts and the number of stabs and the number of tears on her clothes. He turned and counted the number of servants present. He noted that the necklace she always wore had been taken; in its place was a dark red slash on the side of her neck where it had been snatched off. And in her hand she still held her wand, broken and useless. He rose gingerly, as if haste would break his bones, and tore his eyes away from his mother's dead body. Draco would never look at her again.

"Titus, wake the rest of the servants in the quarters." His voice was a low and dull monotone. "Fidel, Quincy, Jacinth, clear up this mess and restore the intrusion spells when you've finished. Nikki, I want you and Talis to check the rest of the grounds. Do not forget the Byrgan Tower and the rose garden."

"And if we find intruders...what shall we do with them?"

A flash of dark emotion crossed his face for just a second. "What do you think?"

They nodded, understanding, and quickly shuffled away. Draco continued giving out orders, not really hearing himself, looking at but not seeing the people he gave them to, until only Marie and himself stood by the great doors of the entrance. Draco had his back turned pointedly at his mother's corpse. "After they have finished," he was referring to the servants taking samples and pictures of the gory scene behind him and starting to clean the ground surrounding it, "I want you to take her and clean her up and lay her in the Byrgan Tower. Dress her..." His eyes screwed shut again, "Dress her in anything else." Draco looked down at his hands; they were streaked crimson, like the rest of him. He felt that he should wash the blood off, although the memories of that night would not be so easy to be rid of. Marie waited for his next command, the silence between them stretched out; Draco seemed to have entered another world. Marie could not speak without being spoken to, and almost always wanted to.

"Where were you?" Marie looked up in surprise. Draco was back to earth, and he had a glint in his eye that Marie did not like.

"I heard the sounds from the beginning. But...I was too scared to come up," she whispered. When it came to Draco, or any of the Malfoy's, there was no use beating round the bush.

Draco's expression turned to thunder.

"I...I thought it was them," Marie quickly interjected. "I've heard about their Death Squads, when they come, they kill Mudbloods, and I heard..."

"Shut up." She did shut up and bowed her head in shame. She stared at a point between his feet, biting on her bottom lip.

"So you stayed in bed. And covered your eyes. And refused to hear." Draco said quietly, unable to hid the tremor in his voice. "Whilst my mother was murdered in front of our own home." He spoke so softly that at any other time Marie would have strained to hear. Tonight, every word was clear as glass. With a dawning dread she knew what was coming.

"I was scared. I'm sorry. Please do not..."

"I said shut up!" Draco screamed, his eyes flashed dangerously, Marie was reminded of a wild animal about to strike, "Do not tell me what to do, I..." He stopped and let out a long breath, and deflated as quickly as he had swelled, his energy visibly ebbing away.

"Marie Olinka...You are no longer under the employment of the Malfoy Family. As of tomorrow, 9:00 am."

He pushed past her, shaking his head a little and had just reached the doors to the hall when Marie spoke.

"It is not my fault! I could do nothing. They probably killed her long before they dumped her here, there's nothing anyone could have done..."

Draco stopped literally mid-step. Careful not to look at Narcissa, he trudged his way back to Marie, taking each step carefully as if on a tightrope. His hands were gripped in a fist and stiff on his sides and Marie realized with horror that he was about to hit her.

Grabbing onto the front of her shirt, he pulled her close until she could do nothing but stare into his face, he had lost all colour except for the now familiar dark bruises of pink brushed across his cheekbones, his hand drew back and Marie closed her eyes, waiting.

But the swift backhand she expected did not come. Marie felt herself being released and she slowly opened her eyes. She met Draco's own grey ones. They were wide and watery and indecipherable. He backed off, his bloody palms facing her, his body shaking.

"I won't waste my time. You're going to die anyway."

With that he turned on his heel, and fled up the stairs.

He ran so fast he was surprised he did not fall over himself; the portraits on the wall were a blur as he passed them, and he almost tripped on the steep uneven steps. He did not stop until he had reached the very top of the Manor, tore down a long candle-lit hall and burst through the stiff door of the Master bedroom.

The room still smelled of the perfume Narcissa had used before she had left. Upon the dressing table were a few pieces of jewellery she had debated over before not choosing them. On the bed lay a single dark red rose, still fresh, its scent stronger than anything else in the room, even stronger than the smell of blood on Draco's hands. Draco picked it up, allowing the thorns to cut deep into his skin. Instead of feeling a focused prick, he suddenly felt as if someone had taken a white-hot sharp steel rod and driven it into his chest. He doubled over, gasping for breath. "So this is pain," he said to himself, and flung the rose angrily across the room. He leaped onto his parent's bed and screaming himself hoarse, and he did not stop until the pain in his chest had intensified so rapidly that he could no longer stand and the only thing left to do was to collapse on the bed, utterly spent. His head feeling like it was going to boil over and he could no longer see anything, just red and blacks dots dancing across his vision so he shut his eyes. Burying his knees into his chest, as the pain consumed him; he was asleep before his head crashed down on the pillow.

*

"One thing I like about this universe is how it is programmed so that everyone gets their just deserts." Some colour had crept back into Harry's cheeks as he had been describing the revelation of Narcissa's death. I'd never seen anyone look so cheerful over a dead body. "Nobody can escape it. Of course sometimes," he added with a rather melancholic smile, "it is a double edged sword. You are thirsty, would you like some water?"

"Pardon?" I was startled to here such a question.

Harry had outstretched a hand and lightly pushed a green button underneath his bed. The chains on his purple wrists rattled as he did so. "I press this button and whatever I want will appear on this tray." He gestured carelessly towards a small steel tray attached to the wall beside his bed. I hadn't noticed it before. "However there are limits, for example, if I request a dagger they probably wouldn't give me one. I press this blue button if I want them to switch off the lights. The white button indicates that I want to use the bathroom. The yellow one adjusts the air conditioning."

I bent down to have a look. "What is the red one for?"

Harry smirked. "The red button is a self-destruct button and will blow this place to smithereens. At least, it would have if I had created it." He sighed. "It's supposed to be a distress button, for me, though I highly doubt that anyone would answer to it. I wouldn't answer it. Would you like some water?"

"Okay," I said. It was only polite. And I was thirsty.

Instantly two empty cups and a jug full of water appeared on the tray by Harry's bed. Harry poured water into both glasses, his long white spidery fingers curled round the jug's handle. His nails, which were bitten almost to nothing, were tinged blue. He swivelled the tray round to where I sat, and I took the cup as if it were a grenade without a pin, and tentatively sipped on his water. The cup was polystyrene, not glass. "If you want anything else," said Harry, "request it out loud. They will know. They are always watching."

I wondered how this was possible. I'm not into that sort of thing. It took a lot of effort not to rise and look for a spy hole. "So," I said, resolving instead to get back down to business, "I take it you think Narcissa deserved to die."

"We will all die, Connor, and we all deserve it. It's part of that Original sin malarkey..."

"No I meant -"

"Did she deserve getting dragged away and halfway decapitated?" Harry deadpanned. "I will not falsify empathy for convention, Connor. You know that bitch deserved it."

"Because of her part in Sirius' death?"

"Because of her part in a lot of deaths. And, of course, because of Sirius."

"What about Draco? Do you think he deserved to see his mother dead before his eyes?"

"Are you trying to work out if I still possess compassion?" Harry said accusingly. "Is this relevant to my defence?"

"If the jury believes that you have regret not just for Narcissa's death, it would help slightly. And take slightly to an understatement."

I had scribbled down every word Harry had told him so far in concise bullet points. I now read them out loud to Harry to reiterate the story.

"Draco Malfoy is disturbed by a banging of the door to his house. Opens door to find mother dead. 36 stab wounds..."

"Then he ran away and screamed like a girl and knocked himself out in Chamber One,"

"Right," I agreed, though I hadn't written it quite like that in my notes. "So who killed Narcissa?"

"Who killed Narcissa?" Harry seemed to be laughing to himself though I had a feeling he was actually laughing at me. "What is the weather like in Burma? I love the way you can say the most spoken phrase in the wizarding world that year so casually." Harry's forefinger lightly circled the rim of his cup of water. He had not drunk from it yet. "I would tell you who was responsible. You would be immensely confused. And then you'd ask me why they killed her and that a whole other story. Have patience, we must walk before we run."

"Okay. Then I think that's one count of murder against you that I can cross off."

"They think I killed her?" The contempt in Harry's voice was blatant. "What a fucked up legal system you have, whenever they find someone to blame for something they blame everything else unexplained on them too. Think of the time frame, Connor, I was still a good little boy then."

"Then was it You-know-who?" I pressed on. "And the Death Eaters?"

"I told you to be patient. Typical Hufflepuff." Harry scoffed. The chains on his wrists were rattling again, and Irvine could not tell whether he was annoyed or amused. "Though the Death Eaters certainly had their part to play. Because for the second time that night, there was a disturbance outside the entrance of the Manor..."

*

But this time Draco did not hear anything. He was still unconscious in the Master bedroom. And this time it was not a continuous pounding like before because there was the final sound of the doors being blown off their hinges this time. A miniature army crawled through the gaping space, led by a tall hooded figure. Behind them lay the dead bodies of the three servants that had killed as they performed cleansing charms on the front entrance, not noticing the black-clad intruders creeping up behind them.

The leader lifted off his hood and they all followed suit. He was a tall, dark-skinned man known to the Death Eaters only as Saa. His sharp brown eyes inspected every bit of hall he was glancing over.

"I smell blood," His voice sounded like it had been used too many times and had worn out years ago. He was addressing the house and not the Death Eaters behind him, However he did not linger on this thought. "My fellow allies," he said to the sixteen Death Eaters, "You know what to do. Search and destroy."

All of them scattered except for three, himself and two others. One was Thomasina Caudal, a tall woman, whose face was partially hidden by a long curtain of red hair, and Christo Adair, a young man, in build and in age. "Yes," he said to the two, who both had mutinous expressions, "You will be coming with me."

"You have created a discrepancy in skill," Caudal protested as they started to climb the five flights of stairs in the Silver Wing, "Adair and I are supposed to be second and third in command, you should have partnered as off with the others."

"No," Saa replied shortly, in the gruff tone of one who did not like to be questioned. "I'm prioritising. The Malfoy Boy is most likely to be in his bedroom, which is exactly where we are heading now. What if he feels like having a little rebellion? Don't you remember what happened last time with Thomas Montague?"

"Lucius -" Caudal ducked as a spell blasted over her head and hit a servant to her right, "- said his son is loyal. And I'm sure even Adair could deal with an snooty adolescent youth alone, right Adair?"

"Not if I die first on these godforsaken stairs," Adair wheezed, holding a stitch in his side, "they really should have installed a lift in here already."

Caudal pretended he had not spoken. A retort would not have been heard anyway; a great deal of noise was erupting from all parts of the Manor - the shrieking of servants unfortunate enough to fall into the paths of the searching Death Squad, the yelling of curses, the melody of Chopin being played unprofessionally from Draco's music room, the pitter-patter of running footsteps; they all merged together in a cacophony of sound, like an orchestra gone awry. After what felt like hours of climbing the stairs, they reached Draco's floor, and turned that dark corridor towards his bedroom, giving as much regard for the family portraits that lined the wall as Draco had.

They knew something was afoot even before they arrived at Chamber Two; the corridor was almost pitch black except for a ray of light streaming from what looked to be an open portrait door right at the end. They soon found out why. The entrance to Chamber Two was wide open, fast revealing that Draco was not there. The trio entered, Saa the most suspicious. The room was spotless and in order, except for the bed sheets, which were in a pile on the floor, and a candle that been knocked over, its wax forming a circular patch against the wood of the bedside table. Saa was clearly not in the mood for what looked to be the start of another rebellion.

"Loyal, my arse,"

"He must have known that we were coming," Caudal said with distaste as she inspected the cloths and the candle - evidence of a hasty retreat. "I hate it when intelligence leaks out."

"Let's not leap to conclusions," reasoned Adair. "Maybe he went to the bathroom."

Saa gave him a quailing look. "Even you are not naïve enough to believe that."

"True," Adair admitted. "Though look on the bright side. If he has run, at least we get to kill him."

"There will be no bright sides ever again in your life if we don't find him at all." Saa strode out of Chamber Two, his robes bellowing out behind him. Caudal and Adair automatically followed.

"Where are we going now? I don't feel like climbing anymore stairs..." Adair whined.

"Shut up for once," Saa retorted, "We have wasted enough time. I reckon he's still in the Manor. We are going to check every single room with haste, starting from Chamber One."

*

"There are four numbered chambers in this Manor according to Lucius," Saa explained. "Chamber One is the Master Bedroom. Chamber Two is where the Malfoy heir sleeps. Chamber Three is part of Narcissa's private quarters. Chamber Four is for the second born son, if there is one. Behold Chamber One." He waved a hand at the enormous entrance to the Master bedroom. On each side there were brackets holding torches, their flickering light creating the effect that they were about to enter an Egyptian tomb, or a Chamber of Secrets. It was creepy; Caudal reckoned there only needed to be a huge sign above written in blood saying Beware, All Ye Who Enter Here to top off the result. Saa did not seem bothered about it in the slightest. He had pressed his ear against the door before crouching to peer through the large rusty keyhole.

"Ah," he said with satisfaction. "What do we have here?"

Saa could just about see Draco's arm hanging lifelessly over the edge of the bed. "It's him. I can tell by that ring on his finger." The Malfoy signet ring that Draco's father had given to him gleamed ostentatiously at Saa in the pale light. "Target appears to be inert."

Adair stepped forward and peered through it himself. "He's asleep at a time like this? Well, that's just terrific. Obviously, we aren't striking the fear into the hearts of people quite like we used to."

"No," said Caudal, "Obviously he is unaware of our visit." She now inspected the artwork on the front of the door. It was a painting, not a portrait like the one outside Chamber Two, and it was very old; the style suggested it had been crafted well before the Renaissance. It was a two-dimensional drawing of a knight upon a great white horse, adorned flamboyantly in suit of gleaming armour; he held a sword that was almost as big as he was. The painting accentuated the knight's eyes, which were so dark they appeared to be black, a contrast to the white blond hair that could be seen escaping his helmet.

"Claudio Malfoy. The very first."

Something caught her eye. On the sword an inscription had been painted along its blade, in sharp concise lettering. Caudal strained to read it before taking one of the torches in the brackets.

"'Non nihi, non tibi, sed nobis.' How odd."

"What does that mean?" said Adair peering at the tiny inscription.

"Not for you, not for me, but for us. How odd." She touched the painting lightly with her fingertips but the Malfoy knight inside it did not move. He had not moved since they had arrived. Caudal figured it wasn't because he was acting mutinous but because the painting was too old to be live.

"This door requires no password, and there is no handle," Caudal mused, mostly to herself. "How would one enter?"

Just for the sake of it, she tapped the painting with her wand, whispering the opening charm. Nothing happened, like she had expected.

"Maybe the kid has it under the Lock and Chain Charm," suggested Adair who had been watching her.

"He wouldn't know the Lock and Chain Charm. No, I think it's something else." She then noticed the inscription on the sword had changed. The words PERSONA NON GRATA had appeared in bold red lettering. After a few seconds it faded away to the original inscription.

"Persona Non Grata," Caudal said, "that means -"

"An unwelcome person." The cold drawling voice carried from the other side of the door. "And you are most unwelcome. There are only two ways to enter Chamber One, for no magic spell can penetrate the entrance. You have to be of Malfoy blood or possess the Malfoy name, and from that inscription you are reading on the door you are obviously not of our ilk. Or I can let you in. The second way is just as unlikely as the first."

The Malfoy heir had awoken. Caudal raised an eyebrow at the other two; Adair had a confused expression. Saa just looked pissed off. "I've come up with a third option," he called nastily at the door, "You surrender like a good mortal boy this instant, or we'll set this entire manor on fire and smoke you out like a pig."

A malicious laughter could be heard in the other room. "Ooooh, I'm so scared. How Lord of the Flies. How gullible must you think I am? This manor was built of sand and rock, it is reinforced with anti-destruction charms from the foundations to the spires of each tower, and no magical or Muggle fire is about to burn it down. I think you'll have to threaten me with something else, don't you?"

This made Saa so angry he looked like he wanted to attempt to burn down the door anyway. Caudal calmly stepped in front of him and summoned a stool, as if expecting to be there for a long time. "Let me try and convince him," she said in a low voice to Saa, "I know more about the boy than you do."

Saa retreated, his hands raised to the heavens. "Knock yourself out. But when we get him out of there I think Adair should treat the kid to a good healthy dose of Cruciatus."

Adair's eyes lit up at mention of his speciality, but Caudal shook her head. "You know we can't, Saa. Not on him. The Dark Lord said no Cruciatus allowed."

"I'll be very careful," piped in Adair.

"No."

Saa scowled inwardly. Then he brightened a little. "Can he at least axe off his legs? You'll fix them right back on again before he bleeds to death, won't you, Adair?"

Caudal shrugged. "Sure. That's what axes are for." She sat back down on the rickety stool she had conjured, her attention back to the insolent child on the ether side of the barrier.

"I thought you were loyal to our cause, Draco," Caudal began in a soft voice, "I thought you understood what we are trying to achieve. You swore your allegiance to us months ago. We don't like people who go back on their word."

On the other side of the wall, Draco was silent. Caudal peered through the keyhole to see if he had moved, but Adair placed a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

"If you do that you think the kid won't zap a curse through that keyhole?"

Caudal shrugged his hand away. "What part of 'magic cannot penetrate this door' did you miss?" She leaned towards the keyhole again. "And if you touch me again I'll have you gutted," she added with a wry smile. Adair shrunk back, ignoring the 'you scared of a woman' look Saa threw his way.

"I won't deny that I'm surprised at you,' Caudal continued, "I believe that you are behaving most uncharacteristically. And your father painted such a pleasant picture of you. I'm sure he would be very disappointed in you actions. I'm sure Claudio and Hades Malfoy and all your other ancestors are rolling in their graves right now."

Draco stirred slightly on the king's sized four poster." Don't speak to me like you know me. You don't know me."

"I know your type. I know that six weeks ago or even this time last week, you wouldn't have barricaded yourself in your mama's room like a fucking pussy and gotten all teenaged on us. You knew we were going to come, you knew this was going to happen. And you know what we like to do with traitors."

Inside himself, Draco felt something fall and shatter.

"How dare you. I am not the traitor. You are. You and your entire messed up organisation. I was loyal. I did want to join. Until this evening, when you murdering psychos killed my mother."

The smooth voice Caudal had adopted changed tone a little, "Say what?"

"Two hours ago," Draco continued bitterly, "or maybe it was longer, I was a fool. And now, I may be even more of a fool, but at least I'm still my own fool, not yours. I had heard stories, about how you dispose of those who have appeared loyal to you, for no just cause. And I laughed. And I thought they had just deserved it. How stupid was I?"

From the corner of her eye, Caudal could see Saa indicating wildly with his hands for time out. Caudal turned quietly on her stool toward him. "What?" she asked in a strained whisper.

"What do you 'what'? What the fuck is he talking about?"

"Sshh, wait..." She turned her back on him. "I have an idea..."

"Yes, Draco, you are a fool," she yelled at the door. "And soon you'll be a dead fool. So I killed her. She had it coming."

The confusion between Saa and Adair reached its peak as Caudal openly admitted such a deed. Inside Chamber One, Draco had finally lifted himself off the bed, his face drained of all colour except for two pink tinges in his cheeks. The wand trembled in his hand.

"You didn't."

"Oh, but I did," taunted Caudal in the tone of one trying to make a child understand something. "Unlike your late mother, Draco, when asked to get the job done, I get the job done. She begged for her life as I tortured her, in case you want to know. Hours and hours of Cruciatus, she was on her knees well before I stopped..."

The ends of Draco's wands started to produce orange sparks. He could hear the roaring in his ears crescendo. "My mother," he spat, "would have never begged you for anything, you worthless..."

"Me? Worthless." Caudal's temper, like a lot of fellow Death Eaters had a very short limit. "I'll tell you about worth. The only worth you had was your father, until he was careless enough to land himself in Azkaban. Now you are even more expendable than the rest of us. What, you think we favour you? I'm sure you never did anything in your entire miserable life worth a damn, just like your tired old mother."

There was again a deep and tense silence from the other side. Caudal dared to place an ear on the door before quickly retracting it.

"Oh. You're not crying are you? Don't want to come out and face us?"

Saa had fianlly stopped staring, and now looked serious; he did not like what he suspected Caudal was trying to do, "Caudal, stop that now or -"

"No, I didn't think so," she continued, not even hearing Saa, "you Malfoy's believe you have cunning, but you're wrong. It's only cowardice you have. And you are the biggest coward of all..."

"CAUDAL!"

There was an agonizing cry from the other side, the door shook as if waiting to be blow away and a blinding green light shone in a been through the keyholes. There was the sound of what seemed to be a howling wind, the spaces in the doorway converting it to a harsh whistle, and then there was silence. Then, the silence was broken by the click of the portrait unlocking and it opened one inch.

Caudal kicked the portrait door fully open with her foot with more confidence than she felt, the three of them rushed inside, their wands raised and ready, Saa beginning to speak before they had even entered - "I'm glad to see you've changed your mind, you little shit, I'll..."

He stopped speaking abruptly, not because Adair lost balance and slammed into him almost sending him to the floor, but because the 'little shit' Saa was referring to, had rendered Chamber One empty.

Caudal looked wildly behind and in front of her, her eyes wild and wide with disbelieve.

"You clumsy, idiotic buffoon," Saa was growling at Adair, who was backing away from him quickly in order to avoid strangulation.

"Quiet," whispered Caudal harshly at them, stepping in front of Saa and circling the room. Her eyes narrowed to two brown slits. "Adair, get off your ass and check the bathrooms."

Adair scrambled towards the bathrooms and disappeared. Saa and Caudal silently checked every wardrobe, every crevice, behind the curtains, even underneath the great king sized four-poster - absolutely everywhere was Draco-free. There was the fireplace, which Caudal briefly looked up but it was as empty as the room and there was no sign of Floo powder that suggested Draco had used it as a form of transport. Adair emerged from the bathrooms soon after, shaking his head.

"No sign of him. I even did a Revealing charm to make sure he isn't hiding behind an Invisibility Cloak. Let's face it, he's not here."

Caudal's frown grew ever deeper. "This has got to be a trap, I don't..."

"No." Saa kicked a fine Chinese vase situated near the bed with force and it flew across the room and smashed against the bedpost, its flowers scattering. "You let the kid get away with all your 'I killed your mother' bullshit -"

"Me?!"

"Yes, you, haven't you heard of tact, you tactless freak?"

"That was bloody tact, I was trying to get him angry enough to come out and attempt an attack...it was reverse psychology!"

"Reverse psychology!? That is the most stupid plan I've ever heard. You are the one who is going to explain to the Dark Lord why an entire Death Squad 17 couldn't capture a 15-year-old brat, that's if you can get him to listen to you before he kills you for it."

"He's right, you know," interjected Adair, who had been closely watching the flowers on the bed flittering about ever so slightly. He wondered where the breeze was coming from. "Lost targets are a big no-no. We are now probably more screwed than the entire midnight population of Soho..."

"SHUT UP!" Caudal and Saa yelled in one go.

"But, guys," Adair whined, pointing towards a window, "I think..." Caudal and Saa who had already turned back on each other ignored him. .

"I won't have to explain a goddamn thing;" Caudal was saying, "You're supposed to be the one in charge. This is your team after all!"

"And I was cursed to choose you as the second in command! I should have known having a woman at all would be a bad idea..."

"Excuse you?"

"Saa, Caudal..."

"WHAT?" they yelled simultaneously again, turning furiously at Adair. But it wasn't he who had spoken this time; it was the two young Death Eaters who had just burst into the room.

"What? What is it?" demanded Saa, trying to sound calm.

"Come down to the Byrgan Tower. There is something you have got to see."

*

The gathering of Death Eaters parted as Saa walked through to the middle of the octagonal room, Caudal following close behind him. They fell silent as Saa reached the empty circle around the altar on which Narcissa's body lay.

The blood and the bruising had disappeared and she was clothed in a long silver and gold leaf dress. Her light blond hair had been brushed and lay in waves across her shoulders and flowed down to her waist, her feet though not visible from under the dress, were adorned with slippers made of what looked like glass. Her hands were crossed across her stomach and lightly gripped her broken wand. She looked rather stunning, even more now than she had done when she was alive; she no longer had the perpetual glower twisting her face. Saa exhaled in a whistle.

"So," he sighed, "it is true." He lightly touched her on her purple tinged eyelids, his lips slightly parted, carefully as if expecting her to spring up. But he knew this would not happen any time soon. "What a waste."

Caudal's regret if she had any was not shown. "People die," she said with a shrug. "She was probably treacherous. I'm sure the Dark Lord will explain his reasons for her demise when we return..."

"Hmm..." Saa was brooding. His eyes were roaming Narcissa's neckline. He noted the absence of the necklace she always wore was not there. "You know what? I don't think it was us."

"What are you talking about? Who else would kill...?"

A ragged breathing somewhere behind her and to her right was disturbing Caudal, and she turned around, annoyance etching her face. "Who's this?"

Struggling in the tight grip of a fellow Death Eater was a slight girl no more than fifteen in a cotton dress.

"She was in here when we found Narcissa," said the Death Eater, paying no heed to Marie's attempts to escape. Caudal gave the girl a horrible smile.

"What is your name and what are you doing here, Mudblood?"

Marie shook from her blond ponytail to the bottom of her dusty cotton dress. "I'm...I'm Marie."

"Your surname," said Caudal pointedly.

"It's Olinka."

"What purpose do you have here?"

"I am merely a servant girl. I was preparing...Misses Narcissa's body."

Caudal visibly softened and turned to the Death Eater who was holding Marie. "Let her go, what's the matter with you?"

"When we came in she tried to attack us using this strange device," he said, not letting go. He beckoned to the Death Eater beside him, who took out the 'strange device' from his inner robe pocket and handed it over to Caudal. Caudal looked down with interest at the cold metal instrument in her hand.

"What is this, a hole puncher?" looking into a dark hole at the end of the device, "You tried to attack us with stationery?" Caudal asked Marie incredulously.

"It isn't stationery," Marie interjected. Caudal took a closer look at it.

"Is this what they call a gun, Saa?"

Saa took it from her, weighing it in his hands. "Yes, he replied, I believe it is a gun." He said, handing it back.

"What were you planning to do with this?" snarled Caudal, a dangerous smile crawling across her lips.

"When we came in she was pointing that thing at us. She claimed it would automatically 'shoot' at us if we came one step further."

Marie wrinkled her nose in defiance. "That is not what I said. And I could have done if it had been a fair fight. I knew it - I knew you people were going to come...."

"We are Death Eaters. Fair is not in our vocabulary, you stupid Mudblood," Caudal recited nastily. "How does one use such an odd weapon?" She fiddled about with it rather haphazardly, and then pointing it experimentally towards Marie. Marie shirked further back against the wall, her complexion a stony grey.

"I believe you have to pull that lever thingy," said Saa. "The trigger."

"What, like this?"

There was a deafening sound of a bullet, the smell of gunpowder as Caudal pulled the trigger and blasted Marie's brains out. Her blood splattered against the wall behind her and she slumped down it and crumpled, the viscous red liquid flowing from her head and onto the floor, her eyes remaining open in that same grotesque expression of horror, her mouth permanently twisted in what would have been a scream. If she had had time. Caudal looked at the gun appreciatively. "Not bad," she commented, slipping it into her robes, "Kind of like a giant hole puncher. Sticking holes into people instead of paper of course."

"Have you had enough playing around for one day?" Saa snapped. "Yes? What is it now?"

Two Death Eaters, who had been standing guard outside the Tower, the same youths who had called Saa down from Chamber One, had appeared in the doorway, both looking like they had run a four-minute mile. "If you are not bringing me the news of the Malfoy Boy's whereabouts," Saa groaned, unmistakably vexed, "I am not interested in anything else you have to say."

"That's alright then," said the bolder of the two, "let's all stand here and get caught, shall we? The Ministry of Magic has arrived."

Saa didn't even stir. "So?"

"The Ministry has arrived," repeated the Death Eater as if Saa hadn't heard him the first time, "and they've brought Aurors with them."

This interested Saa a lot more. "How many?" he asked tensely.

"Too many," the youth mouthed back

"I understand," Saa replied, with a nod. "Okay," he spoke commandingly to the rest of the Death Squad, most of who had already started to make a move, "let's get the hell out of here, form ranks once we get outside, we'll escape through -"

"I don't think so," a malicious voice spoke from outside. "EXPELLIARMUS!"

In a flash of red the two guards by the doorway were taken off their feet. They were thrown across the room, and slammed into the crowd of Death Eaters, knocking most of them to the floor. Saa stumbled as he avoided a flaying arm. "What the -"

He looked up in time to see Draco Malfoy standing outside, his face pinched and ashen with fury before the stone door was slammed shut with such force the ground shook.

"You!" Saa sprung forward immediately, brandishing his wand, others following suit including Caudal and Adair. "Alohomora!" he yelled at the exit, "Alohomora Maximus!"

It did not shift an inch. An eerie faint blue light had appeared around its edges. Saa recognized and paled.

"Oh no, he didn't..."

"Oh yes, I did," screamed Draco from outside. "The Lock and Chain. Speciality of mine. You like?"

Saa did not have time to ponder how Draco knew one of the most powerful locking charms in the world. "You are going to die for this!" he spat.

"Nah." Draco's voice was growing distant. "And Caudal? It's cunning, not cowardice." His voice cracked a little. "Have a nice time with the Aurors."

He was done. As the Ministry rumbled down the hill towards the Tower and the Death Eaters carried on their tirade of insults and death threats, Draco fled towards the dark woods on the outskirts of the Malfoy grounds, coincidentally the exact same escape route the Death Eaters had chosen and this time, he disappeared for real.