Resurgence of Evil

CHAPTER 15

"You're bleeding again," said Ron, staring at my arm.

I looked at the blood, then at him. "Just ripped some stitches. Tripped on those damn stairs." Again, although I didn't say it.

Ron usually would've snorted, but his face was pale with worry. "How do you know it's a trap?" he asked, still breathing rather harshly.

I snorted. "Let's be intelligent about this. This Lord knows where I am, and knows that I'll probably have told Harry that he wants Ginny's child. He's going to use Potter's self-righteousness, pride and anger against him. It's been done before." I didn't mention any more of the disaster at the Department of Mysteries, when Sirius had barely escaped with his life.

Both of the other two stiffened at the reminder of that catastrophe. Sirius wasn't the only one who'd come close to death that day. Harry had at least been smart enough to go alone this time. Or stupid enough, depending on how you looked at it.

"Well, since we know it's a trap, and I'm not willing to credit Potter with rational thought when he's seriously pissed off, I suppose we need to act as the cavalry," I said dryly. I was actually looking forward to getting a chance to better know my enemy. A Muggle once said, 'Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies even closer' - and I had never heard a truer statement.

"Where's he gone?" asked Hermione, pushing away all emotion, much like an Auror.

"That's just it - I don’t know!"

I rolled my eyes. "Well, that's it then. Did he Apparate?"

"No - there was a Portkey."

"Stop," I commanded. "You need to tell us, in detail, everything that happened. Now, before we go running out there half-cocked and get ourselves killed."

Hermione opened her mouth, presumably to protest the delay, but closed it and said, "Draco's right, Ron."

Barely stopping for a breath, Ron began. "Harry and I were discussing a joint project, and he got an owl - the letter was short, and there was a coin in the envelope. It was silver, and on one side was an image of the Dark Mark. On the other was an inscription - um, it was - furor arma ministrat."

"Anger supplies the weapons," I murmured.

"What?"

"It's Latin. It means that anger - or madness, if you want a literal translation - supplies weapons." I snorted. "Ironic."

"Anyway, I read the letter. It was a taunt, a challenge - the coin was a timed Portkey, which would be activated five minutes after it was first touched, and then only for five minutes. The Lord had discovered several spies from the Ministry in his midst, and was ransoming them for information that only Harry could provide, in person. Harry was pissed, and before I could talk him out of it, he was gone." Ron took a deep breath, and violently lost his temper, swearing bad-temperedly, finishing with, "Damn it! I should have stopped him!"

I raised a brow and said, "Is that it?"

"Everything that relates to what happened," Ron said evasively, bracing his fists on the table. Hermione leant into him and put her arm around him.

My eyes narrowed, and I thought back to why Ron would have been talking with Harry, and about the Dark Lord's claim. "Ron," I said. "Is it possible that the Dark Lord has uncovered spies in his circle?"

"What?" Ron was trying to play dumb, but his ears were red, his face flushed.

"I'm not stupid," I said. "Is there the possibility that we'll have to rescue multiple people?"

Put that way, Ron couldn't be evasive. "Yes," he said.

"Just tell me how many," I said. "I don't need to know who, or why."

"Six," he muttered.

I sighed. "Will Ginny be safe here alone?" I asked.

"Yes," said Ron firmly.

"If you're sure, then let's go," I said, moving into the room from the doorway and standing next to the fireplace.

"Where?" asked Hermione.

"We'll have to start from where Harry Portkeyed away."

Ron pulled a jar from off the mantle and said, "It'll be the DMLE office, lower levels." Pulling out a pinch of Floo powder, he threw it into the fireplace and shouted the destination, before jumping into the brightly colored flames. I motioned for Hermione to proceed me, and then quickly raised my wand. "Accio sword!"

I waited until the weapon flew into my grasp, hilt-first, and tucked it into my robes before following. I tumbled out onto the floor in the small room that had been the site of my first discussion with Harry as head of DMLE, twisting slightly to avoid impaling myself.

As I stood, I noted that the plants on the windowsill were all dead by now, and the mess was even worse, if that were possible - it had only been a few days.

Moreover, the entire room tingled with magic - I could sense it, much as I had sensed the glamour around the Minister on my first visit. It was a slightly electric sensation, jumping lightly over my nerves, and it left an invisible trail through both time and space. I closed my eyes, carefully feeling out the direction of the magic.

"Malfoy?"

"Shh!" I murmured, not willing to be distracted.

"Draco, what are you doing?" I heard the voice from far away, an annoying irritation of the edge of my concentration.

"I'm tracking him, now be quiet."

After a few moments I'd followed the trail several miles, and then returned to the office.

"He's at the Riddle House," I said, slightly surprised. I'd thought that the new Lord would have wanted a more secure base of operations, and something didn't feel right about this.

"How do you know?" asked Hermione.

I considered for only a moment - revealing one of my smaller skills to these people would save me time and allow me to more quickly face my enemy - and this knowledge could mean nothing to them.

"I can use wandless magic, and sense the forms of magic in general," I said. "So I can sense where the spell took him." It wasn't really that cut-and-dry, but it would satisfy them without giving them any type of leverage over me. "Can we get going, people? "

Without a word the two led the way to the nearest Apparition point, and we met at the Burrow before quickly moving on to the Riddle House. If we'd Apparated straight to the Riddle House from the Ministry, every alarm would have gone off and about fifty Aurors would have intercepted us there. I didn’t even want to think about what a disaster that would cause.

Ron and Hermione caught up with me as we approached the Riddle House - despite it's being made Unplottable, those who'd been here before could find it. I'd been here many times, for obvious reasons, and Hermione and Ron had been here also, when they'd been deputized.

Frowning, I stared at the house. It looked much as it had when the Ministry had raided it - and now was more dilapidated than ever. The mansion, once magnificent, was now run-down and dark. The many elaborate windows were black with the approaching night, the massive building shrouded in shadow. There were no signs of life, and no indication that anyone had even tried to make the place habitable, much less that it had been turned into the new Dark Lord's base. And since the Ministry was now regularly checking the Riddle House, it didn't make sense for the new Lord to have anything to do with this run-down firetrap.

My misgivings and unease grew more pronounced the closer we got. This was too obvious a trap, and much too blatant for Harry to ignore as an ambush, even overcome with rage. Something was not right.

Wands at the ready, we entered the house, noting the signs of previous battles - scorch marks and shattered glass. More signs that this was just a meeting place, not one of real significance to the Dark Lord.

We entered the spacious living room and I stopped dead, nearly causing Ron to run into me. There were bodies on the floor, barely visible from the dim twilight. Some were tied, some weren't. None of them were moving.

Across the room stood a lone figure in flowing robes. Pale hair, pale skin. It turned, and I sucked in a quick breath. I hadn't believed it then, but the proof was before me.

"Son," came the voice, just as I remembered. Deep, elegant, cultured, and with it's slight, omnipresent sneer.

"You," I snarled, wand snapping up.

"Don't be hasty, Draco," the voice said softly. "Sense the room. Can you feel it?"

Carefully I opened my senses to the room, and stiffened in surprise. Spells - dozens of them. All lethal, all primed to immediately go off, directed at anyone who uttered any offensive spell, including Forbidden spells - and Unforgivables.

Frozen, I could only watch as that figure approached. "I'm safe from you, aren't I, Draco. After all, you can't afford to drain yourself just to attack me. What if you miss? I will retaliate, and you would surely die. To utter a spell would kill you.

He waited a beat, staring deeply into my eyes, looking for something. "But you are also safe from me, for now."

"What do you want?" I grated, meeting his gaze.

"Want? There are many things I want." His eyes were the same cold slate grey I remembered, and still as inscrutable as they had ever been. "The Muggle world destroyed, dominion over all." His voice suddenly went soft. "Death . . ."

He snapped back to his former aloofness so quickly I wondered if I had imagined that moment of something . . . else.

"To all who oppose me, of course. But I sense that you are not talking in such broad terms. No, right now all I want is to see you. You're coming along nicely, but this rebellion from my servitude which you think permanent is simply folly."

I replied with a brief, pithy statement.

"Now, now," he said, with an indulgent smile. I didn't have time to duck the blow, and realized that the 'protection' the spells offered me was not as extensive as the guards to my father's safety.

I stumbled, and spat blood. Ron's wand was up. "No!" I said. "Ron, if you say a spell, all the wards on this house will attack!"

He went white, but didn't lower his wand.

"Oh, the brother thinks to kill me," my father sneered. "You would die before you saw your spell finished, boy."

He looked at me, and said, "You have been a disappointment thus far, Draco, but do not think that I have given up on you." With a small smile, my father Disapparated.