Resurgence of Evil

CHAPTER 6:

It was twilight and I was halfway done. I had yet to pack up the room in which I brewed potions and my bedroom, when I felt my wards explode. I had actually expected them a lot sooner. Harry, Hermione and Ron burst through the door, Sirius and Lupin Apparating at different points in the room as soon as the ward shield dissolved.

"Going somewhere, Malfoy?" Ron drawled, his brows pinched into a slight frown as he took in the half-packed state of the room.

"I was thinking of an evening stroll along the Thames, but it seems that I’ll have to delay my plans. Company dropped in." I refused to let my voice reflect the weakness I was feeling. Sarcasm wasn’t my favorite method of communication, but I pulled it off very well. I’d had lots of practice.

"Leaving the country?" Sirius guessed. I held myself back from glaring at him.

I shrugged, taking a deep breath. "You could say that. I think of it more as relocating. Easier on the furniture than enduring ravaging and dueling."

"We’re not going to duel," said Hermione evenly.

"I wasn’t talking about you," I replied, running a tired hand over my face. "It’s taken today to make me see clearly, but it’s become evident that Britain is not really the best place to live. Too violent. Burglars ransacking my house, hit men exploding through the walls, government officials making random calls, coming armed into my home." I shrugged again in an attempt to appear casual. "All in all, the atmosphere in, say, Italy, is much more appealing."

"Have fun paying for your meals with Sickles and Knuts," said Ron caustically.

"I expect they’ll accept the Euro," I said smoothly, ignoring his sarcastic jibe. "Did you honestly think that I went underground for months into the muggle world without learning anything? Good God, but you’re thick." I hadn’t meant to say that, but I wasn’t as in control as I would’ve liked to be. I absently rubbed my left arm – the tingle there was distracting me. With a feeling of foreboding, I put my wand away. It wouldn’t help me now.

I was still feeling ill from the altercation at the Ministry, and my head was pounding. Ignoring Ron’s heated reply, I went to the mantle over the fireplace, in which I had lit a small fire upon my return - a last semblance of warmth and home before my departure.

My arm was tingling fiercely. I rubbed at it absently, staring off into space. Suddenly pain spiked from the Mark. I ripped up my sleeve, my back to the others. The mark was a brilliant green, shining like the scales of a basilisk, and glowing. It lit up the room with a violent flash, and I heard a gasp from behind me. I staggered, but I wasn’t dead just yet.

The pain, not unlike that of the Cruciatus Curse, started to spread. It had begun. Again – much sooner than I had expected. There was nothing to do for it now.

I kept my back to the room, ignoring the others, and placed my right hand over the mark, a few inches from the skin, and whispered a spell. Green light flared brilliantly, lighting up the room once more, and all noise from behind me stopped abruptly. I reached a shaking hand into my pocket, my fingers closing convulsively over the hypodermic. I yanked it out, pulled the plastic cap over the needle off with my teeth, spitting it to the floor.

I plunged the steel into the mark on my arm, and extracted a glowing green substance. I kept pulling the plunger back until the hypodermic was filled. The pain faded away, and I sighed deeply. Taking a deep breath, I straightened and turned back to the room, viscous green fluid still dripping from my arm.

Sirius took a step toward me, and I glared at him. Ron, Hermione and Harry stood in a half-circle, barring my way to the door. I walked past them into another room where I kept all my potions ingredients. I glanced at the door when I heard steps – Harry was watching me. I emptied the syringe into a bottle and threw the needle into a bag for bio-hazardous waste. I turned, and the world kept on spinning, twirling into black. I reached for the counter and barely managed to keep my feet, knowing that they were coming and this time - this time I would lose. Before, I’d fought off the groups of assassins without massive injury – but now my wards were down, and I was in worse shape than ever before.

I felt someone behind me as my stomach rebelled. I cursed, ignoring the hand on my shoulder, and stumbled to the trash, barely getting there before all food I had eaten that day was violently expelled.

I pushed myself away from the trash after several minutes, and saw Lupin with a glass of water in his hand. "Here," he said softly.

I took the glass from him warily and sniffed it – just water. Relieved, I washed out my mouth and drank the remainder. I put the glass down carefully, still shivering slightly, and pulled out my wand. Lupin’s eyes flicked from it to me, and I said, my voice rough, "They’ll be here soon."

"Who?" Lupin asked, his hand disappearing inside his robes. I walked slowly from the room, feeling stronger from drinking the water, but nowhere near my usual health.

"Death Eaters. They’ll be here any minute."

Hearing my words, the four in the other room pulled out their wands. I blinked in surprise, having fully expected them to Disapparate. After all, it wasn't their problem.

"How would they get here?" asked Hermione.

"You shattered my wards to get in," I said softly, working hard not to let any accusation show. I needed their help, damn it. "Now, the master of the Death Eaters can find me. All he has to do is look. He’ll send Death Eaters as soon as he knows that I’m vulnerable."

"But-"

Multiple pops around the room interrupted Ron, and the room was a haze of flying spells. Smoke and sparks clogged the air, and the noise of someone screaming hit my ears. I saw the wizard who had thrown the Cruciatus Curse, and threw a curse of my own. He died – blasted into several thousand pieces.

Madness reigned for several minutes, and then all was quiet. I moved to a window, threw it open, and the smoke disappeared enough for me to survey the damage.

Hermione was helping Ron up from the floor, where he had stayed after being hit with the Cruciatus. Sirius pulled bits of wood from his hair, brushing off his robes – the coffee table was missing a leg, which had exploded into jagged slivers of wood sprinkled throughout the room. Lupin had a cut over one eye that was bleeding profusely, gore dripping from his brow to stain the white rug. Harry was moving gingerly, as if in pain, but they were all alive.

The ten Death Eaters, however, were in various forms of senselessness and death. Checking, I saw that seven were dead – one in messy bits all over the room – and three more unconscious. I tied them up and moved them so that they faced the wall.

Then, not even bothering to clean up, I moved into the kitchen and sat in a chair, pulling out my first-aid kit, as well as potions ingredients. I forced myself to my feet, brewing the anti-Cruciatus potion, as Hermione and Sirius worked jointly to patch the others up.

By the time the potion was done, all the adrenaline from the fight had drained from me, taking most of my strength with it. But I wasn’t done. Pulling the potion from the fire, I gave some to Ron. As I was about to leave, Harry quietly came up to me and asked me how much of the potion he should take, after being hit twice with the curse. I poured him the appropriate dose, and then turned on the faucet.

Ignoring the others, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a switchblade.

"What are you doing?" asked Lupin sharply.

Shifting my body slightly so he could see what I was about, I replied, "The fluid has to fully drain, or it poses a serious threat." Clenching my left hand into a fist, I held it over the sink. Taking the switchblade in my right, I carefully cut lengthwise along the mark, then dropped the blade on the counter, my fingers nerveless and cold.

"You’re nutters," said Ron, pale with disbelief.

"Am I?" I asked, locking eyes with him while pressing down on the skin of the Mark just over the thin cut.

"Damn straight you . . ." Ron trailed off, his eyes widening as they fixed on my arm. Instead of red blood, more of the viscous, glowing green fluid flowed from the cut. I winced as it trailed, acid-like, over my skin, to fall into the sink. I continued to press down, breathing deeply.

For nearly two minutes the five watched in silence, until with a sudden start the fluid running from the cut turned clear. The pus drained, and blood began to flow. I let the cut bleed for a short while, to be certain the fluid was fully expelled, and then held it under the running water, which was now warm.

After a few minutes I reached across the sink, turned off the water, and grabbed a dishtowel, pressing it hard against the wound. I turned away from the sink and somehow managed to push myself so that I was sitting on the counter, my other option being the floor. I leant my head back against a cupboard and closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

I jerked when I felt someone come up beside me, having forgotten the others in the room. My eyes snapped open to meet the somber, dark stare of Ron Weasley. "The aurors are here – they want to talk to you."

I looked around the room and blinked – it was filled with witches and wizards in dark robes, with an official white and gold patch. When had they gotten here? The fact that I must have fallen asleep and hadn’t noticed bothered me, but not as much as it should have, I realized blearily. I pulled the dishtowel away from my arm and saw that the bleeding had only slowed slightly – the towel was almost saturated with blood. Dropping it into the sink next to me, I picked up another one, cleaner, and applied pressure.

I jumped off the counter and tensed as my vision faded in and out, noise rearranging itself around me. I shook my head and took a deep breath, saying, "Fine."

I led three aurors into the living room, which had been cleared of both bodies and prisoners. I looked around for a moment, surprised, and then sat on the couch.

"Mr. Malfoy," said the first auror, a stern-looking witch with glasses and auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail. "Can you tell us in your own words exactly what happened here tonight?"

Confused, I simply said, "I was attacked by Death Eaters. My wards were weaker than I thought, and they were able to break them and attack. I was fighting them when Potter and his crew Apparated in." Not quite a lie. Not quite the truth either, but it would have to do.

"Why would the Death Eaters attack you?" This from a younger man, who, although slightly older than me, was still naive. His blond hair hung long, almost to his chin, in a page-boy cut. His brown eyes were too innocent, and he was earnestly copying down my words on a parchment.

"I don’t know. I assume they’re angry that I betrayed Voldemort."

"You betrayed Voldemort?" The woman again, a note of surprise in her voice. There was another man behind her, short and dark, who hadn’t said anything yet at all. "So you’re a Death Eater?"

I frowned. After my publicized capture and trial, this was common knowledge. "I was," I replied, emphasizing the past tense.

"Are you sure that’s what happened tonight, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the blond youngster. I stared at him.

"Are you sure you weren’t having a meeting with the Death Eaters when Potter and his crew raided your house?" I blinked at him in shock, but didn’t feel any surprise. It would be convenient to place the blame on me – it would solve the problems of who the leader of the Death Eaters was for the Ministry. Scapegoating.

I pushed myself up from my chair, weak and furious. "Get out," I snarled.

"This is a crime scene," the woman interjected quickly. "The Department of Magical Law Enforcement-"

"Is trespassing," I snapped. "Get out of my home. Now."

The woman and the blond boy headed toward the door, backing cautiously away from me. Where –

"Dice veritas!"

Pain. The world went black.