Mistaken Love

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It was a cold, foggy night as Harry was wandering aimlessly through a grave yard which was very familiar to him. The wind was blowing hard against his skin and sweeping over his hair. He heard the rustling of leaves that caught his attention, causing him look to over his shoulder. Nothing, there was no one. He continued to walk and he passed by a tomb stone that read, 'Tom Riddle.' Harry suddenly realized where he was. This was the place where he was two years ago, where Cedric Diggory was murdered. He recalled that night in his mind as he closed his eyes. That was the first time he ever witnessed a murder, a murder that ended up with an innocent boy's death.

Harry opened his eyes to stop the memory from replaying in his mind; he just didn't want to remember. He continued pacing around the cemetery, not having slightest clue of what he was looking for.

"She will come, do not worry." A cold, icy voice echoed through the darkness of the graveyard.

On instinct, Harry whipped out his wand and he then turned in the direction of where he heard the voice, but, again, he saw no one. Instead, he saw a large, antique mansion. He squinted his eyes to get a better look at the house and he began to walk toward it.

"Master, do you really trust her to follow the plan?" another man spoke in reply. His voice was shaky and full of fear.

Harry had a feeling that he was on the right path. His scar pickled with pain as he got closer to the house. A light was shining through the crack of a door, allowing Harry to see the two men to whom the voices belonged to. A pale, skeleton-like man was seated in a cushioned chair. His red eyes were narrow and were glaring down at a small, stubby man at the foot of him.

"My plan will succeed, Wormtail," Voldemort emphasized. "She will be able to do it, she will not disappoint me."

"B-but, my D-dark Lord, you barely know her. H-how do you know she is loyal?" Wormtail stuttered.

"Do not question me! I know what I am doing!"

Voldemort's anger was expressed in his voice. His temper rose and Harry felt it. Blinding pain struck across Harry's scar. It burned so bad that Harry fell to his knees and clenched his forehead with his hand. He screamed for the pain to stop, not caring who heard him. Harry felt the gaze on him, the red eyes watching him. He leveled his gaze with Voldemort's and the pain grew to be intense, then, all of sudden, he was pulled back to reality.

"Harry, HARRY!! Wake up!"

Harry shot up from the ground, as he did a white blade of pain shot through him as if a knife was driven into his rib cage. He knew something was broken. His eyes were watery and pain was felt throughout his body. His back ached, his arms were sore and he felt the numbness in his legs. He heard his heart pounding against the inside of his chest and his heavy breaths. Harry saw a blurry outline of Bethany crouching over him with his glasses in her right hand.

Bethany was drenched in water. Her clothes were soaked and her hair was in curly, wet locks that hung around her shoulders. Her face was pale and cold from the icy wind that swept through the air. Harry felt her hand on his as she handed him back his glasses and a shiver went up his spine. Bethany's skin was unbelievably freezing and was far below the normal body temperature.

Once Harry brought his glasses to his eyes and placed them on the bridge of his nose, he was able to see Bethany clearly. She gave off a worried appearance, which was odd to Harry, considering she didn't like him very much. Her brown eyes were staring at him tensely as she waited for him to show any indication that he was okay.

"What happened?" Harry asked wearily.

"Well, you were unconscious and then you started screaming out of the blue," Bethany elaborated. "It kind of freaked me out."

Harry clenched his ribs, as he tried to stand up. "I meant, what happened in the cave," he scowled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Bethany said sternly. She watched Harry rise I few inches from the ground and lose his balance. Quickly, she reached out and grabbed his arm to help him back down. "I told you! Stay still. You broke one of your rib bones."

"Just one? It feels like someone crushed my entire rib cage," Harry retorted, having a hard time breathing without pain erupting in is lower chest.

Bethany stood up and walked over to the lake. She tore off a sleeve of her robe and drenched it in the freezing water. Harry examined her carefully; she dipped the piece of fabric in and out of the water without a flinch. The water must have been ice cold and yet Bethany touched it like it was nothing. Harry kept his gaze on her as she returned with the damp cloth in her hand.

"Take off your robe and your shirt," Bethany stipulated.

"W-what?" said Harry unnervingly.

"I need to stop the bleeding or you'll die. So, you have the option to take off your shirt or die, undergoing a lot of pain."

Harry looked down at his shirt and he realized that it was soaked in blood. He slowly loosened his robe off his shoulders and untangled himself from it. Then, he placed it to the side of him and worked on his shirt. He pushed up his shirt to his chest, exposing a massive, bruised gash in the center of where his rib cage was and cuts surrounding it. Harry winced at the sight of his own injury as he took off his shirt and added it to the pile with his robe.

Bethany knelt down beside Harry and brought the damp cloth closer to his wound.

"Wait," Harry grabbed Bethany's hand, stopping her before the cloth touched him. "I'll do it."

Bethany glared at him for awhile, shrugged her shoulders and handed him the cloth. "Suit yourself..."

Harry took the cloth and began to dab it around his cut. Bethany watched him amusingly as signs of pain reflected off his face.

"Do you find something funny?" Harry asked irritably.

"Yes, the fact that you're clearly in pain and won't let me help you amuses me."

"Does it?" Harry said through his clenched teeth.

Bethany grinned. "I offered to help, but for some reason, boys never like to admit they need it."

Harry shot her a grim look and became frustrated with Bethany. He accidentally took out his anger on his injury by applying too much pressure. A throbbing pain exploded from his ribs, causing him to curse under his breath. He continuously gasped for air, hoping the pain would disappear.

Bethany sighed, "Here, give it to me." She took the cloth from Harry and moved closer to him. "I don't understand why you couldn't just let me help you in the beginning. Boys are stupid."

She lightly touched Harry's cut with the cloth and applied pressure softly. Harry grimaced and shut his eyes, waiting for the pain to worsen, but it didn't. A few seconds passed and he opened his eyes. Bethany was still carefully aiding his wound and instead of feeling the blinding pain he had, Harry felt the strain of pain lessen.

Harry gazed at Bethany with interest. "How did you do that?"

Bethany looked over at Harry and smiled. "Do what?"

"It doesn't hurt as much anymore..."

"It's called first aid response," Bethany laughed.

"You learned first aid response?"

"I'm not a normal witch, Harry. I went to Muggle school for a couple of years. I can heal the wounded without a wand, of course it can't compare to magic, but it's good enough."

"Wow, another thing I learned about Bethany Taylor. She's a Muggle-born," Harry said surprisingly.

Bethany squeezed the cloth over his bruise and cool water trickled onto his gash and his cuts surrounding it. It stung Harry, but he remained silent.

"What makes you think I'm a Muggle-born?" Bethany asked curiously.

"Well, you said you went to a Muggle school. I just assumed that you were a Muggle-born. You're not?"

Bethany shook her head. "No, I'm not a Muggle-born; I'm a pure-blood witch. I went to Muggle school because my Gramps wanted me to."

"Oh, yeah, Dumbledore was into a lot of Muggle stuff. More than other wizards and witches anyway."

Bethany closed her eyes and turned her attention back to mending Harry's broken rib. Harry knew he said something wrong when he noticed Bethany's smile fade a little.

"Bethany, are you okay?"

"I'm not the one who broke two of my rib bones, and you're asking if I'm okay."

"Two? I thought you said I broke only one," Harry said, horrified.

Bethany rolled her eyes. "After I felt around, it seems like you broke two."

"Is it serious?"

"In the Muggle world, yes, but in the Wizarding world, no. One thing for sure is that you need to get to a Healer, and fast," Bethany analyzed.

"Okay, well, back to the question. Are you okay?"

Bethany ignored Harry's question and continued to diagnose Harry. "I was able to stop the bleeding, but without a wand I can't do much more. Although, I can wrap the gash, covering it so it won't get infected. It would keep it clean, so you won't die anytime soon. Other then that, you-− -"

"Bethany!" Harry cried, trying to stop Bethany from rambling.

"Yeah, what? You don't have to yell at me. I'm sitting right next to you."

"Well, you left me no choice," Harry snapped. "I would have shoved you or something, but at the moment I can't move without feeling pain."

"Were you listening to anything I was saying? I don't know why you stopped me in the middle of an explanation about your health, Harry."

"I don't care about my damn health. I know something is wrong with you, Bethany, and you're keeping it from me."

"Nothing is wrong!" Bethany screamed.

"You're lying!" Harry replied back, matching Bethany's tone. "How is it that we managed to escape from Wormtail and landed ourselves outside the cave? Why didn't he kill us or send us to Voldemort? Two of my rib bones are completely snapped in half and I don't even remember how it happened. And can you tell me why you're a soaking wet? At least tell me that, so I know you're not going to faint on me anytime soon."

"Harry, I−" Bethany began to answer, but Harry continued talking, cutting Bethany off.

"I mean, when I touched you, it was like touching ice. How do you still have your regular skin color? Your skin should be a light shade of blue or something. The lake water must have been freezing and you touched it like it was nothing. Are you some kind of evil, magical, water demon or something? If you are, I would like to know before you eat me or cut me up into pieces."

Bethany waited a few seconds before she spoke. "Are you done?"

"No, as a matter of fact, I'm just getting started. How did you kn−"

"Okay, I think you asked a million questions and you're not letting me answer any of them. So, it's my turn to cut you off and hear my own voice for a change." Bethany paused and waited to see if Harry would respond, but he stayed silent. "I don't know how we got out of the cave. I woke up next to you in the same spot we're in right now. I don't know why Wormtail didn't do anything to us and I don't know how I got soaked in water. The last thing I remember is watching you drink that potion and then I was thrown against the wall. And to answer you're last question; no, I'm not an evil, magical, water demon, I'm just Bethany. Got it?"

Bethany caught her breath and stared at Harry firmly. She knew that Harry would shout back or scream something at her and she was ready to argue back. Time passed and yet Harry still said nothing.

Harry seemed to be deep in his thoughts until his bright, green eyes met with Bethany's soft, brown eyes. "Are you cold?" he asked, smiling with his eyes still glued with Bethany's.

"What?" Bethany looked confused and irritated at the same time.

"Are you cold?" Harry repeated.

"I'm wet and a storm just passed. The weather isn't really agreeing with me to dry my clothes. Do you think I'm cold?" Bethany answered flatly.

"It's hard to tell, your stubbornness conflicts with the way I read your emotions." Harry reached over to his pile of clothes and grabbed his robe. "Here, take it," he threw his robe to Bethany and she caught it. "It's dry and it will keep you warm."

"You're the one that's shirtless. You keep it," Bethany replied, handing him back his robe.

Harry shook his head. "No, keep it. I wasn't soaked in water from head to toe."

"Fine, but you have to let me wrap your cut or its going to get infected."

"You're the doctor," Harry grinned.

Bethany smiled and began to take off her water-soaked robe. Under her robe, she wore a white blouse with a black, thin strapped tank top underneath that. She took Harry's robe and enclosed herself in it. Then, she took her wet robe and began tear it apart. Harry watched her strangely, wondering what on earth she was doing. Minutes passed and Bethany finally held up what was left of her robe. Harry saw that Bethany made her robe into a long sting-like bandage and was impressed.

"Clever," Harry commented to Bethany.

"Thank you, but it comes with a price. You owe me a new robe."

"Saving my life is priceless," Harry snickered.

"Hmmm, that reminds me, you owe me a wand too. Oh, and on top of that, you owe me for saving your life."

Bethany held one of the ends of the torn up robe to Harry's chest and began wrapping it around him while moving downward, over his gash. She ran her hands repeatedly across his lower chest and wound, making sure the bandage was fitted correctly. Harry started laughing and swatted Bethany's hand way.

"I'm ticklish," Harry pointed out. "I think I can finish wrapping myself up, it doesn't seem that hard."

"There you go on the whole 'boys don't need help' thing again. What's with that?" Bethany speculated, handing Harry the rest of the bandaging.

"It's a guy thing, Bethany. We are sworn to secrecy not to tell girls."

"I think you are just−" Bethany broke off and became suddenly quiet.

"Bethany? What is it?"

Harry saw that Bethany's eyes focus on something behind him. He watched her expression change from a gentle smile to a mirthless, appalled look. Her eyes gave off unconvinced gaze, leaving Harry dubious of what was behind him. Harry wasn't able to turn around fully which disabled him to seek out his curiosity of what Bethany was staring at. He then caught a reflected emotion from Bethany's eyes. He recognized this look before; a look he once stared at in a mirror. It was wretched and terse and it reminded Harry of his own loss of love.

"Bethany?" Harry said serenely, "Do you see something?"

Bethany nodded her head and inhaled softly. As she exhaled unsteady breaths, she whispered a name faintly, "Draco..."

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Ginny continually tugged at Draco's sleeve, urging him to decide which path to take. With Hermione and Ron behind them, they stood at a fork that was split into four paths. Draco was examining each path carefully and closely as Ginny stood there, tapping her foot impatiently. Hermione was handling Ron's compliments about Draco and kept them away from Ginny.

"Can't we just take any path and see where it leads?" Ginny asked Draco irritably.

Draco shot a grim look at her. "You're the one who told me to find Potter for you. That's what I'm doing, but we can try your way if you want to actually get lost in the forest. I don't mind, I have nowhere to be."

"Well I know we should be on a train going back home three hours from now," Ron interrupted.

Hermione gave Ron an annoyed look and dragged him away from Ginny and Draco.

"Your brother is a git, you know that?" Draco implied, turning his attention back to observing the paths.

"He just wants to get back home," Ginny sighed.

She brought herself down the floor and buried her face into her hands. Her eyes were sore with dark circles under them caused by lack of sleep. Ginny rubbed her eyes softly and let out a silent yawn. 'Six hours passed and we still can't find him... Where are you, Harry?' She closed her eyes, trying to fight the tiredness that was taking over her body.

"Can I ask you a question?" Draco said, taking a seat next to Ginny.

"If I said no, would you still ask me?"

Draco smirked. "Yeah, but, for once, I was attempting to be nice."

"You're not made out to be nice, Draco..."

"True. I'm made out of good looks and great charms. That's why all the girls want me."

"Oh please," Ginny cried. "Why must you be so arrogant? It's a turn off to girls, you know."

"I thought I was the one asking the question," Draco said dispiritedly.

Ginny shrugged and stared into his grey eyes. She thought she would see a cold, sinister stare, but Draco's eyes were nothing like that. They were dispassionate and wearily. She knew that she wasn't the only who was tired and didn't have much sleep lately.

"So, back to me asking you a question; why are you the only one who cares so much about finding Potter? I mean Weasley and Granger don't seem that into it." Draco nodded his head toward Ron and Hermione who were hand in hand, walking a few paces here and there which were yards away from him and Ginny.

"They care," Ginny protested. "They are here with me, doesn't that mean anything?"

"Not really, I mean they seem lost in their own world. You, on the other hand, are struggling in yours," Draco replied deliberately.

"Draco, I don't have time for this," Ginny said flatly as she stood up and dusted her robes with her hands.

"Time means nothing when you're trying to run from something you can't. Trust me, I know. Fear only makes you weaker. It's what my father always says."

"Firstly, I don't care what your father says. Secondly, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, and lastly, don't say you know me and try to tell me what I'm feeling because you're wrong," Ginny admonished.

"You're scared," Draco accentuated.

"Harry is out there; on his own," Ginny shouted violently, pointing to the fork with the four paths. "Of course I'm scared, don't you know anything about love? Aren't you scared of anything?"

Hermione and Ron were now staring at Ginny and Draco from a distance away. They were silent and kept out of the conversation.

"Fear is born from caring," Draco answered tonelessly. "I care for nothing."

Ginny stared at him sternly. She didn't understand how someone could be so cold hearted and sad. There was always family or friends whenever she felt alone or just needed comfort. Ginny realized that Draco had neither friends nor family. His father was in prison, his mother is probably with Voldemort and his friends were mostly all evil. For the first time in her life, she felt sorry for him. She felt sorry for this boy who is destined to become a Death Eater, a boy who took part of Dumbledore's murder.

'What are you thinking, Ginny? ' she asked herself, still staring at Draco. Minutes passed and Ginny knew she must have looked stupid for not replying, but she was still lost in her thoughts. 'He's a Malfoy! How could I be sorry for him?' Ginny tore her gaze from Draco and began to walk toward the paths where Hermione and Ron stood.

"I know what you're thinking," Draco commenced, causing Ginny to stop and turn her attention towards him. "I never asked you to string me along on this trip. I never asked you to trust me, but you do. I haven't figured out why you would, it makes me feel like I'm losing my touch."

"What makes you think I trust you?" Ginny snapped.

"Well, the words 'I believe you' kind of refers to trust," Draco elaborated. He stood up, towering over Ginny, making it look as if he has a better advantage of winning this fight.

"I said I believed that you didn't intentionally kill Dumbledore, but that does not, at all, mean that I trust you. You're so full of it, Draco."

Draco gazed at Ginny for a few seconds, hunching his angular shoulders. He then subsided and forfeited the fight.

"Does this mean we can get rid of him?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shushed him.

"Back to finding Harry," said Ginny, turning her attention to the four paths. "Since Draco doesn't know which one Harry took, we'll just−"

"He took the second path from the left, "Draco announced. "The third leads to the same place, but its longer, so take your pick."

"You knew which path it was all along and you didn't tell me?" Ginny appraised.

"What fun would that be?" Draco laughed. He made his way toward the second path, on his way he patted Ginny on the back for his amusement.

Ginny hissed a profound word at him and followed Draco as Hermione and Ron trudged along.

Dawn was approaching and the sun was slowly rising over the tops of the trees. The light orange, marbled sky was visible through the clouds as it stretched from the sun to an immeasurable distance across the sky. Warmth from the heat of the sun dried the damp floors from a previous rain storm that night. The air was fresh with the scent of morning dew and was seeping through the grass.

They arrived at an opening that was surrounded by many pine and oak trees. Ginny watched Draco walk into the opening and bend down to touch the floor. He swept his hand across the dirt and then stood up. She followed him as he walked to the opposite edge of the opening and examined the floor closely.

"Great, Malfoy led us to a dead end, can we go back now?" Ron shouted, standing in the middle of the opening with Hermione.

"Ginny, maybe we should go back. Harry might have returned back to Hogwarts while we were out here looking for him," Hermione suggested.

Ginny ignored Hermione and Ron and continued to watch Draco. She finally saw what he was looking for; footprints. There were two pairs of them, leading into a stream of trees.

"The rain must have made the ground muddy and dried it over night," said Ginny as she bent down and ran her fingers over the footprints.

"Ginny! Did you hear what we said?" Ron asked, making his way toward Draco and Ginny.

"There's nothing here," Hermione said, coming up behind Ron.

"That's where you're wrong, Granger. And here I thought you were clever," Draco scoffed, pointing to the footprints.

"They could be left by anyone," Hermione observed.

"STOP, just stop," Ginny cried.

An emotion took over her, leaving anger and hatred in her. Ginny was tired and the constant nagging of Hermione and Ron, the bottled up frustration blew up inside of her.

"You two don't care about finding Harry! Draco was right; I am the only one who is really looking for him. I just don't understand what is wrong with you two. Do you even care about him? Do you care if he's okay?"

"Of course we do, Ginny!" Ron replied, angrily. "Hermione and I know why Harry left! He wanted to be alone! Away from us, away from you and away from Hogwarts. This is why he left!"

"You don't know that," Ginny screamed. "Harry told you nothing! He told me nothing..."

Ron fell silent.

Hermione went over to Ginny and wrapped her arms around her. "I know you love him, Ginny. We're going to find him... Don't worry."

Ron walked over to the two girls he loved most in the world and embraced them tightly. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm being a prat, I know."

Ginny gave her a brother a weak smile. "Apology accepted."

Draco let out a fake cough and everyone looked over at him. "Not to intrude on the warm, friendly moment, but I don't want to stand here all day and watch you people work out all your problems. God knows it will take years. So, to push along, I thought you would like to know where Potter headed. And it doesn't look like he went alone."

"What do you mean, Malfoy?" Ron retorted.

"There are two pairs of footprints," Ginny answered in a soft voice.

"I guess the theory of him wanting to be alone is out of the picture," Draco said, following the footprints with Hermione, Ron and Ginny after him. "I never thought Potter had enough guts to lie to all of you."

Ginny's heart clutched and her face saddened. Draco was right, he's always right.

"He didn't lie," Hermione argued. "He just didn't tell us where he was going."

"Oh, and that makes a huge difference," Draco mocked humorously.

"Why don't you shut it Malfoy, no one asked you," Ron said, looking as if he had a hard time keeping his fist down.

Draco stopped walking and he turned to Ron. "How about we have a go, Weasley? Just you and me. No teachers, no Potter to the rescue you. What's holding you back?"

Ron took a step toward him and lifted his fist. Draco stood there, ready to take the hit. A smirk swept across Draco's face and Ron yearned to hit him.

Then, laughter echoed through the trees. Ron heard it and he lowered his fist. Hermione and Ginny heard it also and the three of them recognized it at once. It was Harry's. They began running into a clearing they saw up ahead. Draco followed along, looking slightly confused.

"Hey, wait up! What's the matter with−" Draco didn't finish. He reached the clearing behind Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

A large cave sat at the edge of a lake. The water of the lake gleamed and rejected the light of the sun, causing it to bounce back into the sky. A couple feet from the opening of the cave sat two people, a boy and a girl. They were talking until the girl spotted them. She stared at them with her gaze stretching from Hermione, Ron to Ginny until her eyes fell on Draco.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione ran toward Harry. Ginny glanced back at Draco, wanting to thank him for his help, but Draco's gaze was on the girl. Draco caught the girl's stare and held it for a second. He then closed his eyes and turned away; leaving Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and the girl he once knew and loved and then forgotten.

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Lucius forced his way through the thick, black dungeon doors when he reached the end of the dimly lit corridor. The dungeon was filled with blackness with no source of light. Lucius felt the Dark Lord's presence in the room and the mark among his left arm burned. He took lengthy strides across the floor of the large room, creating echoes from his footsteps. His vision was absorbed by the darkness until he hit a flight of stairs that led to a platform which held a tall, jeweled throne-like chair.

A pair of red slit-cut eyes was gazing upon him steadily. Lucius made his way up the stairs and kneeled down onto the platform, in front of the Dark Lord. He waited for his master to speak first, knowing he was in for a punishment for losing Draco and killing Crabbe and Goyle under his uncontrollable temper.

"You've come at last, Lucius," Voldemort hissed softly.

Candles lit up faintly, giving the room dusky lighting. Lucius lifted his head and leveled his eyes with the Dark Lord. A stinging pain from his left arm tormented his thoughts. Pain always meant something was wrong; something that was done wrong.

"I am not a coward. I face my punishment with pride," Lucius replied imperceptibly.

"Ah, I see... And I would punish you for... what?

"My Dark Lord, I killed two of your followers. I allowed my son to escape. I am a failure."

"Lucius, Lucius..." Voldemort stood from his chair and continually shook his head. "You worry too much about disappointing me."

Lucius seemed confused and did not understand why the Dark Lord was so lenient. He was forced to stand when Voldemort motioned his hand for him to follow down the stairs by his side. Lucius walked beside his master toward the barred section of the dungeon where people are to be held captive.

"Crabbe and Goyle have always been useless to me. Killing them made no difference. What concerns me is your temper," Voldemort said dispassionately.

"My Lord, my temper will change," Lucius informed.

"Yes, well, that will not bring your son back, will it?"

Lucius turned a light shade of red before replying. Anger bubbled up inside of him. He knew Draco was hiding something and so were Crabbe and Goyle.

"He ran. I was not able to stop him," Lucius said rather quickly, not wanting the dwell on the subject. He paused for the Dark Lord to answer him, but did not. "There was something suspicious about him before he ran off."

"This suspicion was unusual in what way, Lucius?"

"Draco became skittish when Crabbe and Goyle arrived. They said something to him which made him uncomfortable."

A blinding pain erupted from the mark on Lucius's arm. The Dark Lord's anger triggered the intense burn that was felt by all his followers. Lucius realized he said something wrong.

"What did they say to him?" Voldemort barked.

Before Lucius was able to answer someone Apparated into the room, producing a loud echo of a crack. Lucius felt Voldemort's fury slowly calm when he laid his eyes on the man who just entered the room. He was short and stubby with small, watery eyes; unmistakably Wormtail. He was jittery and nervous as he made his way toward the Dark Lord.

"M-my Lord, I come bearing g-good news," Wormtail stuttered hysterically.

"Yes, go on..." Voldemort said impatiently.

Wormtail's eyes drifted to Lucius and mumbled something timidly.

"He will be told presently. Just give me the information," Voldemort raged.

Wormtail whimpered and nodded. "The plan was successful, master. The potion is running through his blood. But there was a little interruption..."

"An interruption?" the Dark Lord repeated crossly.

Lucius stood silently. He was completely lost with what Wormtail was informing the Dark Lord about. He then realized a plan was occurring right in front of him and he did not have the slightest clue. All the secrets around him and the secrets his son knew were told to Wormtail, Crabbe, Goyle, and most likely to most of the Death Eaters, but not to him. This infuriated him. He was the one who was most loyal to the Dark Lord; he was the one who sacrificed his own son for the Dark Lord's aide.

However, Lucius remained silent. He was eager to know more about the plan and did not wish to interrupt the Dark Lord, who was already angry.

"Only a small interruption..." Wormtail muttered.

"What kind of interruption?" Voldemort roared fiercely.

Wormtail began to moan and mumble to himself. He then replied to his master, "He was not alone."

Voldemort's eyes blazed with fiery seethe. He did not reply to Wormtail, but instead ignored him. He turned to Lucius.

"You must find your son, now," Voldemort ordered. "And do not fail me, Lucius."

"But, my Lord, I do not know where to begin."

"Then I suggest you use your head and this," Voldemort swept his wand across one of the barred cell and a women appeared.

She had long silver blond hair and was extraordinarily beautiful. Her blue eyes were unreadable as she stood in front of Lucius with her gaze on him.

"Narcissa," Lucius said unemotionally.

She replied with a silent stare.

"Your son cares for her more than you do, Lucius. He only obeys you to protect his mother. Make sure he knows where she is and how she got here," Voldemort said.

Lucius nodded and Disapparated without another look at his wife.

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