Resurgence of Evil

CHAPTER 10:

I was silent for a few seconds and then asked, "Who is this?" But I recognized the voice on the other end of the line. The cold, sophisticated voice, with the elegant lilt that denoted a high-class upbringing.

The person on the other end of the line began to speak again. "Didn’t you guess the truth, when you got my letter? Didn’t you suspect the lies for what they were? I thought you were smarter than that. And by the way, I must thank you, Draco, for destroying my Life-Lock."

"Go back to the hole you crawled from and leave me in peace," I spat.

"Vault 875."

There was a click, and I gripped the phone tightly as a beeping noise rang through the silence.

"Who was that?" asked Hermione, taken aback by the viciousness of my last statement.

"Telemarketer," I replied absently.

Vault 875 was my family’s Gringotts vault. What was going on? I bathed, shaved and dressed, then returned to the kitchen and continued testing the green liquid, but couldn’t keep my mind on my work.

I noticed that I was low on several key potions ingredients – a convenient excuse for a trip to Diagon Alley, and to Gringotts.

Despite the heat of the day, I pulled a sweater over my t-shirt, not bothering with robes. I stuck my wand in my pocket, and walked through the living room. "Going somewhere?" asked Ron, looking up from the couch, where he was reading the morning’s issue of the Daily Prophet. "Diagon Alley," I answered.

"Hold up," he grunted, dropping the paper and standing. "Oi, Lupin!"

The werewolf emerged from the kitchen and said, "Yes, Ron?"

"Malfoy and I are going to Diagon Alley. Coming?"

Black walked out of the kitchen, perusing today's copy of the Daily Prophet. "I’ll stay," he replied absently. He had been cleared of guilt in the death of Harry’s parents shortly after Voldemort's demise, but many still saw him as a criminal. My anonymity was assured because the true goings-on of my trial had been kept a matter of utmost secrecy, despite the fact that my capture, the occurrence of a trial, and my release, were well known. The only danger, besides the Death Eaters, came from those with perfect right to despise the name of Malfoy.

Glancing sideways at his companion, Lupin sighed and nodded. "I need to contact some sources," he replied quietly. "I’ll come. Hermione?"

She had been curled up on the couch next to Ron, and she continued examining several texts that she had brought back from the Ministry library, in a search for any information about the substance created by the Mark. "No, I think I’ll stay here," she said. "I need to call Harry. Draco, can I borrow your phone?"

Ron raised a brow at her use of my first name, and I said, "Why don't you just fire-call him?"

"He has a cell for private calls, so no one accidentally sets off the alarm in the Auror division."

"Fine." I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and tossed it to her.

I glanced at Ron and Lupin and said, "Well?" I gestured the door, waited until they left, and then followed and locked it behind me. I started to walk, and led the two onto the streets of London.

Despite the connection between the Muggle and Wizard worlds, few people actually expected to see wizards walking down their street. Lupin and Ron attracted strange looks, as did I, though I’d learned to blend in better.

When we reached the Leaky Cauldron, Ron elected to stay behind upon meeting Shamus Finnigan and his fiancee, Padma Patil. Lupin and I progressed into Diagon Alley, where we conveniently parted ways – he to contact members of the Order of the Phoenix, myself to Gringotts.

I hung my head, partially hiding my face behind a screen of my hair, which was too long, so that I might not be recognized despite my height and distinctive coloring. I made my way through the half-empty streets, heading toward the slanting columns of Gringotts.

I passed several people I knew, who thankfully did not recognize, or see me. I saw two Death Eaters - Joseph Calwell, closely followed by Ralf Hardesty - enter Madame Malkin’s, and passed the store quickly without looking inside.

Even in Gringotts I didn’t relax – not until I was being led by a goblin to the carts that would take me to Vault 875. After the sickening journey, I approached the vault cautiously. The goblin took my key and opened the door – green smoke burst forth.

I ignored the piles of Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, searching for something that didn’t belong. I had to poke behind several piles of money before I found it, and I couldn’t have been more shocked. There were two things.

When I pulled the first object from the vault, the goblin grunted in surprise. Hefting the sword, I found that the it had perfect balance. The blade was silver, rippling near the sharpened edges. The hilt was black-bound leather, and the pommelstone was a clear, circular stone. Frowning, I pulled a hair from my head and drew it lightly across the edge. It was razor-sharp.

"Hold this," I said to the goblin, which squeaked in shock but did not drop the blade. Reaching farther back, I picked up the second object, which was a box. Opening it, I found dead, blackened leaves of a plant that I couldn’t identify. I slipped the box into my pocket, retrieved the sword, and collected some money, just for appearances sake.

I changed half the money to the Euro, noticing that the sword was getting many speculative glances. Wondering how I was going to explain the blade to Lupin and Ron, never mind the rest of the people who lived in the Burrow, I didn’t pay much attention as I left Gringotts. I ran straight into someone – and it saved my life.

"Stupefy!"

The spell crashed into the doorway above my head, and rock shattered down. The streets were suddenly empty as people screamed and dove for cover into nearby shops. I looked up and saw Calwell and Hardesty, backing one another, at the other end of the street. Wands out. Pointed at me.

I tossed the sword to my other hand and pulled out my wand, armed. Two more spells aimed in my direction confirmed that I was the target. I dove for the ground, rolling twice before regaining my feet. "Expelliarmus!" I hissed, out of breath.

Missed. I ducked to avoid two incoming spells, and tried again, shouting the spell. I hit both at once, and their wands flew out of their hands. I caught them, but the two refused to give up. They charged, and I held the sword out menacingly. Suddenly I heard the shout, "Stupefy!"

I ducked, but I wasn’t the target this time. Calwell fell, and I held the sword to Hardesty’s throat. "Don’t move," I said softly. Lupin walked up, wand trained on Hardesty.

"There will be a team of Aurors here - " he was cut off by multiple pops, as half a dozen witches and wizards Apparated, completely surrounding us – "any minute," Lupin finished lamely.

"Lupin?" asked one woman. Arabella Figg, an Auror, and the guards surrounded us, several fanning out to check the stores. Several mediwizards were sifting through the crowds, and I lowered my wand slowly, flicking my hair out of my eyes. Arabella Figg turned to me, and her brows shot up at the sight of the sword.

"So, Draco Malfoy," she said grimly. I winced as several people looked up, hearing my name. Figg continued with barely a pause. "What happened?"

"I came out of Gringotts and ran into someone. I heard another person – Calwell, I think, shout, and then spells were flying left and right."

"Aimed at you?"

"Some of them."

Figg’s eyes narrowed. "Were you the . . . . victim of the attack?"

I shrugged, unwilling to call attention to myself. "It was confusing – people were screaming and running all over the place. A few of the spells did end up in my general area, and I did fight back when I saw these two," I answered vaguely.

"And the sword?"

I shrugged. "Family heirloom. It was in my family’s Gringotts vault. There are several goblins inside who can verify my story."

"Fine. I’ll collect them, and I want you to follow me to the Ministry for questioning. The head of the DMLE will want to talk with you." I rolled my eyes but said nothing.

Arabella turned away, and Lupin hissed, "This is what you had to come to Diagon Alley for?"

"Not exactly," I replied dryly. I followed Figg into Gringotts, Lupin trailing us, and when we prepared to Apparate to the Ministry, Lupin responded that he would wait for Ron, and then the two of them would go and tell Hermione what had happened.

When we arrived at the Ministry, Figg led me to the office of the Head of the DMLE. To my surprise, it was a different room than the one our meeting had taken place in – this one was aboveground, spacious, and tidy. Raising a brow, I opened the door to see Harry, in work robes, going through papers, several people also talking to him.

The noise died when Figg ushered me in, then left with a brusque, "Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back shortly."

Harry looked at me and said, "What is that?"

"A sword," I replied. He gave me an exasperated look.

"And what are you doing here?" The others in the room – minor officials, I noted – were suddenly very interested in our conversation.

"There was a slight . . . altercation, in Diagon Alley."

"And I’m to assume you were a part of it?" Harry’s tone was somewhere between irritated and amused.

"I might have been involved," I hedged. "Figg would probably be able to tell you more."

"I see."

"I very much doubt that," interrupted a new voice. I turned my head to see Arabella Figg returning, with several goblins in tow, as well as Lupin and another man. At this, Harry’s face tightened, before breaking into a small smile.

"Well, we’ve captured some Death Eaters, then?"

"Thank Malfoy and Lupin for that."

"I wasn’t involved," I said immediately. "Self-defense." I glanced at the minor officials.

Harry must have seen my look, and at a word from him they disappeared. "Draco Malfoy, this is-"

"Oliver Wood," I said. "I know." I made no gesture of welcome or acknowledgement, and Wood also declined to acknowledge my presence. I expected no less – he’d known me at school, and I had not been the most . . . popular of people then. The only other time we'd met had been after my arrest, several days before my trial. Years of continued Quidditch practice had done well by him – he was fit and muscular. Years of continued fighting against Dark wizardry hadn't done so well by him. He'd been changed into a ruthless fighter for the Ministry, not unlike Neville Longbottom and many others. He was a harsh, unyielding man.

"Oliver is the overseer of Death Eater containment within the Ministry, among other things," said Harry.

"I'm aware of that. I suggest you obtain information from your prisoners before it’s too late," I said smoothly.

"Too late? How so?" asked Figg sharply.

"They will be dead – killed by the new leader of the Death Eaters – when word of this incident reaches him. It may take only a few hours."

"How would they kill him?" she asked.

I pulled up the sleeve on my left arm, and she saw the Mark.

"It’s . . ."

"Green," I responded patiently. "Yes, I know."

"But isn’t it supposed to be-"

"Black. Yes, it was. Now, there is a new leader, who has several . . . new ideas. Not all of them pleasant."

"You’re telling me he can kill with a mark on the arm?" asked Wood.

"He can use the Mark to kill, if that’s what you mean, yes," I replied coolly. We were not on the best of terms. I looked around. "If we could get to the heart of this matter? Eventually, I would like to go home."

Figg started, then rattled off her report to Harry in expert, practiced manner. I related my side of what happened, as well as my thoughts on the reason behind the attack, to Harry. With a last glance at the sword, Wood left to question the prisoners, and I was released to go home.