Adrian Pucey: Gringotts Curse-Breaker

19th July 1996

The end of my second week at work, and already I like Fridays more than Mondays. Millicent took me shopping in Salisbury on Sunday, and they had a shop full of leather clothes. I got a pair of Muggle trousers! Harun wasn't impressed; he says they'll be impractical in the jungle, especially if they get wet in a rainforest. They made Millicent blush when she saw me in them, though - I sent her off to Malfoy's with a twinkle in her eye.

I'm not sure I'm ever going to get completely used to Harun. He jumps between ideas faster than anyone I've known, and his approach to training is, honestly, mad. I like him, but he's crazy.

On Sunday afternoon Millicent arrived at the Malfoy house feeling nervous. She'd caught the Knight Bus to get there, and the journey and her apprehension combined to make her feel slightly sick. I'm being stupid, she told herself as she trudged up the long drive. I'm being paranoid, she thought. Mother brought me here hundreds of times when I was little, and I probably know all the nooks and crannies far better than Pansy. All the same, Millicent hoped Draco or his mother had remembered to make changes to their defences so she could get to the house.

She knocked at the front door as she had done dozens of times in the past, and felt daft at her own relief when she saw the house was exactly the same as it always had been. The floor still shone with decades of polish, and everything was in its place, all neat and tidy. (One thing Millicent had always appreciated about Draco's mother was her neatness.) A quiet, frightened-looking House Elf Apparated in front of her and requested her cloak. After that it asked her name and led her through to the drawing room to announce her.

The area around Malfoy Manor seemed warmer and sunnier than anywhere else Millicent had been since the end of term, but despite that all the windows and curtains in the drawing room were closed and the room was horribly stuffy. Narcissa Malfoy's house would never actually smell unclean, and all the wooden surfaces gleamed with polish, but there was still an air of faded pot pourri and dust in the drawing room. Pansy sat upright in an old-fashioned chair, looking bored. She knew better than to slouch in the presence of Narcissa Malfoy. Draco sat in another chair with a book in his lap, and Narcissa was fiddling with some embroidery.

"Miss Millicent Bulstrode, Mistress Malfoy," the elf announced, bowing deeply and then going about her business.

Narcissa put her embroidery down with evident relief. "Millicent! I was only saying to Draco the other day that we hadn't seen you this summer - but Pansy tells me you have a young man." Millicent noticed how drawn Narcissa looked, although she was still impeccably dressed in robes of crisp, pale-green silk. Millicent's own mother hadn't even let her own standards slip much when she was dying, and she suspected Draco's would be the same. Despite Stella Bulstrode having been a half-blood, she had been Narcissa Malfoy's friend and Millicent believed it was more than expediency that had brought them together. Politics aside, they had similarly precise personalities.

Millicent looked at her feet, as shy as she would have been with her own mother. "Yes, Mrs Malfoy. I'm seeing Adrian Pucey."

"It's Narcissa, dear. Adrian Pucey? He's a nice boy. Is he still at school?"

"No, Narcissa, he's an apprentice at Gringotts," Millicent said with pride.

Narcissa raised an eyebrow. "Gringotts employees often go through a wild period, you know. You'll have to be prepared to tolerate a bit of bad behaviour. All that travel and adventure goes to the apprentices' heads."

"Adrian won't do anything awful," Millicent said with conviction. "He knows how much he means to me. Um, is it okay if I open a window? I've got a cold and don't want to pass it on to anyone." She sniffed unconvincingly.

Draco closed his book as Millicent undrew the curtains and flung open the windows and fresh air and light and birdsong flooded the room. He couldn't quite believe such simple, purely pleasurable things could still exist. Sometimes he felt as though sunlight were a myth, and happiness fast becoming a legend. His mother had all but hidden herself away since his father's arrest, and had lost much of her joy in life. She feared spies - not unreasonably, as Draco was sure the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be watching her while her sister was still on the loose, hence the way the house was all closed up. "We've got something for colds in the Potions room," he told Millicent. "Come on, we can go and get it now."

"Oh, I'll help," Pansy volunteered.

No need, Draco told her firmly. Pansy slumped briefly back in her chair, then glanced at Narcissa and sat upright properly once more.

Millicent trotted alongside beside Draco as they made their way through the house. Her size reminded him of Crabbe and Goyle, and he had to remind himself that Millicent was rather brighter than either of those two, even if she wasn't actually clever.

"You know I haven't got a cold," she said.

"Of course. You're a terrible liar. No one was fooled, but Mother couldn't bear to look paranoid in front of you. Pansy invited you here, didn't she?"

"Mmm. She invited herself to my house, too. I think she's inviting all sorts of people to all sorts of places."

In the quiet Potions room, where members of his family had worked quiet magic for centuries, Draco sat on a stool. "How is Pansy?"

Millicent looked carefully at him. He was spending almost every day, from morning to night, with his girlfriend, whereas she'd had a brief conversation with her one afternoon. "Don't you know?"

Millicent's newfound confidence annoyed and pleased Draco. A year ago, she'd simply have answered his question. She wasn't his equal and never could be in his eyes, but he needed her to be strong. She could be dangerous, but she could also be extremely useful. "I think she's under a lot of stress. She needs her friends, Millicent."

"There's Daphne."

Draco snorted. "Daphne! Daphne's only Pansy's friend because it's as near as she can get to being Pansy. Pansy's stuck by me since father's arrest, even though lots of people have abandoned Mother and me." He hesitated. He'd often thought of Daphne as a potential replacement girlfriend, useful in case Pansy ever went flaky on him. Now Pansy was under pressure and he hated it. He wanted to see her smile more, in the way that wrinkled her cute snub nose. He wanted to hear her cut-glass laugh, aristocratic and sharp, more often. He had enough to think about thanks to the mission Voldemort had given him, and the thing that made all the dark thoughts fly away was his girlfriend's sharp wit and sense of fun. Daphne never could supply those things. Draco had been shocked to realise that after years of taking her for granted, he did actually love Pansy. He'd gone to great lengths to keep her away from his aunt Bellatrix. Breaking Pansy's spirit or warping her mind was just the sort of thing his aunt would enjoy. "I don't want Pansy to suffer because of me," Draco said finally. "Last term you turned against us. Me, Pansy, the Inquisitorial Squad. People know that. My father might not be in Azkaban right now if it weren't for you."

Millicent saw the anger flare in Draco's eyes. "Umbridge was going to break the law," she said simply. "And you were all going to stand and watch. I won't let people be tortured." She stared him down.

Draco considered this. If only Millicent knew what his father would have to face on release from Azkaban. He believed his father was powerful enough to break out if he wanted to, but in prison he was further out of Voldemort's reach than he would be at Malfoy Manor. "Help Pansy, then. Keep her safe. Father knew what he was doing, but Pansy's going to take a lot of stick just for being loyal. I'll... I'll forget about last term if you promise me you'll keep an eye on her."

"Pansy knows you're up to something," Millicent told him.

"I'm not," Draco insisted. Millicent wasn't convinced. He wouldn't be Draco if he didn't have some plan locked away in his head.

"Well, she believes you are. Your aunt has been here, hasn't she? Pansy thinks she has."

"No," Draco lied. Then, more vehemently, "I'd never let Aunt Bellatrix near Pansy. My father always protected my mother. I'm no less a man."

"I believe you there," Millicent said with a smile. "When Pansy needs me, I'll be there, okay?"

Draco nodded. That was one weight off his mind. He couldn't entrust his secret to Millicent, but he could leave the people he loved most with her to watch over them. A Malfoy always repaid his debts, so he said, "And if Pucey turns out to be a cad, I'll ensure he regrets it."

Millicent shook her head. "He loves me, Draco." Why does everyone expect Adrian to let me down? Millicent wondered. Am I so unlovable? I don't think so, not any more.

**

Adrian swaggered into work on the Monday. He wore robes for work, but having purchased a pair of leather trousers the previous day, he still had the idea of wearing them in his head - and a gleeful recollection of Millicent's expression when she fist saw them. Adrian had never previously considered himself the sort of young man who could put that look on a girl's face.

He sat as his desk and put a photograph on it. Millicent smiled at him shyly from the edge of the frame. Harun looked over his shoulder. "Your sister?"

"My girlfriend," Adrian replied. He looked at Harun, waiting for the look of pity. People usually seemed to think he deserved some sort of sympathy, as though Millicent wasn't good enough, and then assumed she was pure-blood because that's the only reason he'd be with her. This time, no pity came.

"She looks quiet," Harun said, noticing how one of her shoulders was out of shot, as though the girl in the picture wasn't keen on being photographed.

"Oh, she is - well, unless she loses her temper," Adrian laughed.

Harun nodded, and started rummaging through his shelves. "She sounds like my sister, Ayesha."

"She's great. Most people... well, they don't see further than her looks."

Harun smiled. "Those are the least important thing about a woman. Now, today we're going to the British Library, but we'll Apparate to the Magical Galleries. Gringotts employees made a lot of the finds in there, you know. People say the goblins are avaricious, but they have a keen sense of craftsmanship, and anything truly beautiful or important gets kept whole, not melted or broken down. Goblins understand the work that goes into creating something far better than we wizards."

"Is there anything you found in there?" Adrian asked, excitedly.

"A few things."

The Magical Galleries at the British Museum are stuffed with rare and exotic things. While Muggles wonder at the Egyptian Galleries and gasp at the treasures from ancient Chaldea, in a hidden part of the building wizards and witches speculate on just how a mummified crocodile-guardian can still sit, snapping, atop a box of canopic jars or enjoy the beauty of an amulet forged from copper (the metal sacred to Venus) over a fire of Veela hair and designed to entrance members of the opposite sex. Like Muggle children, little witches and wizards head straight for the mummies in any museum, and that was the section Adrian was most familiar with.

Having no interest in mummies, Harun dragged Adrian straight off to the American section as soon as they arrived. He pointed at an elaborate turquoise mask. "See that? I found that. It's got a preservation charm on it. When I removed it from the king who was buried with it, his face still looked like he'd just died."

"Cool!" Adrian breathed. He was using that word rather a lot lately. It was inadequate to describe the mask. The tiny squares of turquoise that made up its mosaic surface still gleamed as though newly polished. He supposed the charm had protected the mask as well as the face it had been placed over.

Adrian walked around the cabinet. "Oh wow! Did you find this too?" He pointed to a double-headed serpent, also made of turquoise mosaic, which sinuously slid its way over and around other artefacts within the case. It was by far the most dramatic object in the Middle American case.

"Hmph," Harun huffed. "Hiroshi found that one." He'd been on the verge of curse-breaking the site where the serpent was found when Hiroshi swept in and took the best of everything. Harun had found enough gold to cover the cost of his trip and make a small profit for Gringotts, but Hiroshi had gained all the glory and, if he'd been more thorough, could have cleared the site and got Harun sacked.

"Who's Hiroshi?"

"A no-good temple-raiding treasure hunter," Harun replied.

"A thief?"

With some regret, Harun shook his head. "As much as I am, and you will be. He also works for Gringotts, but his head office is in Asia. Some people say he's the best there is at American work."

"Who do other people say is the best?" Adrian said hopefully. He quite fancied working for one of the best curse-breakers, if not the very top man.

"Well, they all say Hiroshi is the best," Harun said, scowling. "That's why I need you. There's one site that was discovered fairly recently, but it'll take two people to break it. We're going to have to go in masquerading as Muggle archaeologists."

Adrian was confused. "Why don't you break it with Hiroshi?"

"Because he's senior and he'll get the credit. I haven't been independent for a decade only to work for Hiroshi." Harun stamped round to look at other artefacts within the cabinet. "What do you know about turquoise?"

"The stuff the Aztecs used mostly comes from the south-western United States," Adrian said, trying to remember what he'd read in Harun's books. "A lot of turquoise artefacts are bespelled, which is another reason why magical authorities from around the globe are keen to get wizards placed with archaeological teams - they don't want Muggles finding anything like that snake." Since the discovery of Tutankhamun's tomb, the successive deaths of the discoverers and finally the authorisation for the sinking of the Titanic carrying the cursed mummy case by then-Minister For Magic Arcturus Black, wizards had been carefully inveigled onto as many digs as possible. No one wanted Muggles finding any more cursed items, or putting all that lovely treasure in their insecure museums.

Harun nodded. "Not bad. What shapes are most commonly bespelled?"

"Um..." Adrian thought. He'd spent an awful lot of time reading about Inca quipus, which wasn't going to help him with the statuettes and definitely wouldn't help in Mexico. He hadn't paid enough attention to Middle American cultures. He took a guess. "Animals?"

"You've got a lot of reading to do," Harun said with a sigh. "What are your runes like?"

"I'm good at the classic Futhark and the Futhorc, not bad at Ogham script," Adrian said proudly.

"Oh, mercy! I do wish Hogwarts wouldn't focus so hard on Western European languages. Well, you'll have to brush up your American basics," Harun told him. "I reckon we should leave for Mexico at the end of August. I'll take you through a couple of sites I've already been through."

Adrian was horrified. "Shouldn't I know a bit more before getting into it?"

"You'll be fine, Harun decided, watching the turquoise snake. "There's no better way to learn what sort of thing you'll be up against than to encounter it in the field. Besides, Bill told me this morning that Hiroshi's taken on an apprentice too, and there's no way he's going to beat us."

Adrian nodded. If Millicent was impressed with leather trousers, she'd be even crazier about him when his picture was printed in The Daily Prophet.