Resurgence of Evil

CHAPTER 2

Life goes on. I walked aimlessly down a street in Muggle London, hands in the pockets of my jeans on a hot midsummer day. Despite my claim to not want to have to live as a Muggle, I found that it was easier to be a wizard hiding among Muggles than a wizard hiding among wizards.

Even so, I remained a part of my world — I rented an apartment on the outskirts of London, and the post was delivered by owl every day. I had contact from several wizards recently. My experience in hiding from Voldemort had caused me to become immersed in the world of Muggles, and I knew as much now as a Muggle-born about electricity, politics and how non-wizards lived. It was really rather surprising given my heritage, but I was the last surviving Malfoy simply because I had been able to adapt.

I carelessly crossed the street and made my way towards my apartment. Voldemort had been gone for nearly a month now, and Harry Potter was the celebrated savior of the wizarding world — head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division. Rumor also had it that his wife was expecting a baby — their first. Ron and Hermione Weasley also seemed to be doing well — I hadn’t contacted any of them since early July, two weeks after Voldemort’s death, when I had been released from their custody.

"Cool tattoo," came a voice from slightly behind me, pulling me out of my thoughts into the outside world. I half-turned. A Muggle boy, about ten, was seated on some concrete steps, listlessly throwing a tennis ball against the side of a house.

I glanced down at the inside of my left arm. The mark had faded, but it would never truly go away — and in recent weeks it had developed a greenish cast. Dwelling on bad memories, and saying nothing, I turned away from the kid and replaced my hands in my pockets, lengthening my stride to reach my apartment more swiftly.

When I finally reached my apartment, key in hand, I realized immediately that something was wrong. The door was open slightly. Setting my keys quietly on the floor, I stood and drew my wand, not that I really needed it. But I expended less energy using a wand than using my power in raw form — and with the fall of Voldemort and the rise of his successor, I drained my magic once a week simply to stay alive. These factors made my wand once more a necessity.

I pushed the door open carefully, and peered inside. Nothing. I darted in, pressing myself tightly against the wall, and made my way into the main rooms of the apartment. The kitchen was a mess — someone had ransacked the cupboards, drawers, even the refrigerator.

A crash caught my attention and I started, then moved quickly, soundlessly, to the main living rooms. There were several figures there, in dark robes, rifling through my things and generally causing mayhem. Death Eaters — again.

"Stupefy!" I hissed, never having understood the need for noise when spellcasting. Most people thought that spells had less force, or didn’t work at all, unless they were shouted. Usually, all that did was attract attention to the caster’s location — which could prove fatal.

One of the figures collapsed, and I quickly took out his partner before tying them up and searching through the rest of the house. There was little chance that there were more of them, but I couldn’t be sure.

Returning to my living room, I bent over the figures on the floor and pulled the sleeves of their left arms up. No mark. I frowned, then pulled their hoods off and swore in surprise, my mistake now obvious. Ministry officials. Aurors, to be exact. And I recognized one. Wonderful. Sighing, I pointed my wand at each and said, "Ennervate!"

Groaning, they came around, still tied up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked them quietly.

"Let me up," Neville Longbottom snapped.

"Who’s your friend?" I asked, gesturing to the short, sturdy man with straight brown hair.

He muttered something under his breath as he twisted slightly on the floor, and I said, leaning forward slightly, "Sorry, don’t think I caught that."

"Bugger off," Neville snarled, glaring at me and breathing hard.

I rocked back on my heels and straightened. Keeping calm only with difficulty, I raised a brow. "Under the circumstances, I think I’m being more than civil. Would you like to tell me why you’re here before I loose my temper?" I drawled, deliberately folding my arms so that the Dark Mark on my skin flashed in their direction before it was concealed. The man paled, and Neville’s face twisted into a sneer.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," he snarled, straining against his ropes.

I rolled my eyes, and raised my wand. Neither flinched, but both tensed, and the short man’s face became a mask. Snorting, I untied them. Doubtless they expected an Unforgivable or two, followed by painful death.

Surprise flickered over the short man’s face as he quickly stood and pulled out his wand, pointing it at me. Neville scrambled to his feet, rubbing his wrists. I began to clean up, and ignored them. Finally the short man spoke, his voice low and tense.

"The organization of Death Eaters was crumbling. Without Voldemort, the power struggles were causing mayhem within the ranks." He leant against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. His face was haggard, the tanned skin lined with worry. Neville’s face seemed permanently fixed in an expression of disgust.

"Past tense," I said shortly, flicking cushions back onto the couch. "You didn’t ransack my home to give me useless information. Get to the point."

"It seems that this has changed." I refused to react. "The power struggles are still occurring, spilling over to involve innocent witches and wizards, and Muggles. But it seems that there is a head to the organization now, a covert leader who holds the power and sets the lesser Death Eaters against one another."

"I’m aware of this as well," I snapped, sitting on the arm of a couch. The two men exchanged shocked glances and cast suspicious looks at me, but said nothing. I wasn’t about to tell them how I knew their information, either. I righted the coffee table with another flick of my wand, and said quietly, "Accio." The newspapers, two letters and a book flew into my hand from the floor, and I dumped them on the table. I looked up as Neville began to speak, his voice loaded with derision and anger.

"There is no reason for us to tell you anything. But you’re coming with us to the Ministry."

"I am?" I asked, my tone indicating that I would do no such thing. Neville reached into his robes and I tensed slightly, readying myself. He pulled out a sheaf of papers, but I did not relax. I glanced over at the short man, acknowledging that he had noted my movement. He stared at me fixedly, and I looked back to Neville. I had better sense than to touch the papers — they might be a Portkey. My suspicions were confirmed as Neville held the papers out to me deliberately.

Using my wand, I levitated the papers and brought them toward me, looking through them. The most prominent was a subpoena for my presence at a special meeting, validated by the Minister of Magic and the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Auror Division. I frowned slightly at the signature.

"Shall we?" I asked, realizing that now I had no choice. I reached out to touch the papers just as Neville and the short man grabbed them as well. I felt a familiar jerking sensation behind my navel as my feet left the ground.