Harry Potter and the Missing Prophecy

Chapter Nine

Things were not going quite as planned.

Draco was on edge constantly. He had abandoned hope of ever learning Legilimency. It was just too difficult to do on your own, with no one to help or advise or practice on.

Although he hadn't found anything about Legilimency in Knockturn Alley when he went, he was immensely relieved when he just happened to come across a reference book in his father's immense library one day, when he was bored and looking for something to keep his mind occupied.

Apparently, Legilimency itself wasn't a complicated form of mind-interference. It just took a hell of a long time to master it enough to ever get through into anyone's thoughts. He'd felt something when he'd tried it for what felt like the millionth time, but then it was like hitting a brick wall and he couldn't go further. It had taken all his energy and he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything for a fair few hours afterwards. When he'd tried it again, he had almost fainted. And fainting wasn't something a Malfoy ever did. Or at least admitted to doing. He needed more time to practice.

But time was running out.

Draco knew that Voldemort would summon him anytime now, and he was verging on panic when he realised that he had to action Plan B, as risky as it was. He needed something, anything. He couldn't go to Voldemort with nothing at all. It was his neck - or worse - if he didn't.

Two weeks into the start of term, Draco sneaked into the Gryffindor common room behind an unsuspecting first year, hidden underneath the Invisibility Cloak that he had had the incredible luck to come across in the private and exclusive stores of the proprietor of one of his father's regular haunts in Knockturn Alley. The owner of the shop was notoriously famous for charging an extortionate amount of gold Galleons for anyone to even look at what he had "out the back", as it were. It had taken an immense amount of bargaining and all of the credit left on his Gringott's Credit Pendant, but Draco had managed to buy the shimmery piece of air-like fabric without too many problems. He had held his breath at the time, thinking that the pendant might be rejected; after all, his father was in prison - but obviously the Malfoy name still held status amongst the underworld of Knockturn Alley, and the owner had accepted credit without batting an eyelid.

Breathing as silently as possible, and convinced that his racing heart would give him away, Draco crawled through the passageway and emerged into the Gryffindor common room. Keeping to the edges of the room to avoid an embarrassing encounter with anyone and having to actually touch a Gryffindor, Draco slowly crept round to a table near the fireplace, where Potter and Granger were doing homework.

Draco frowned slightly. As he looked around, he wasn't happy that this common room was much cosier and homely than his own Slytherin one, which was dark and harboured a fair bit of damp, posh and opulent though as it was. He envied the room bathed by the soft light of the lamps and crackling fire with dozens of squashy armchairs and sofas, much more comfortable than the taut leather ones that he was made to sit on. Of course, he did love leather, but it wasn't exactly nice to sink into at the end of a long day, and was always cold and got a bit sticky after a while. It also squeaked and made embarrassingly unpleasant noises if you were doing anything other than just sitting on it, especially if the occupants were wearing leather as well.

As Draco neared the table by the fireplace, he noticed how sickeningly happy everyone seemed. They were laughing and joking, playing games and the first years were obnoxiously chasing each other around the room. The Slytherin common room couldn't have been more different. Everyone always looked sullen and suspicious there, obviously plotting and spying on others, even their own friends. Himself very much included.

Draco had become increasingly aware of the not-so-subtle attention he had been receiving from his housemates. It was clear to him that he was being watched for a reason. He was especially concerned about Pansy Parkinson. She had taken to turning up when he was least expecting it, such as ambushing him just when he got out of the showers, or actually getting up from where she was sitting at dinner when he came in, just to come and sit next to him instead. She was always winking at him and making suggestive remarks, some threatening, some just plain sexually explicit. It was unnerving and not just a little sickening, but Draco was under no illusion as to why. For years she had been going on about the Dark Lord this, the Dark Lord that, and her family had been in his service since he first reigned. She was definitely one to watch out for, and Draco felt he had no choice but to make false promises to her and drop subtle hints at his progress (not mentioning, of course, that there had been none). He was not one to show others his agenda, least of all Pansy Parkinson, so he had had to revert to classic diversionary tactics to distract her from any truths.

Potter and Granger were working on their assignments quietly. Potter was looking increasingly frustrated with his wand, and Draco shook his head at Potter's incompetence to master even a simple Colour-Changing Charm. Draco, of course, had mastered this spell within the lesson itself, and had reason to work hard this term: the Colour-Changing Charm was their introduction to Disguising Spells, which, to Draco, could prove to be very useful and probably highly amusing.

As he neared their table, he dropped behind a sofa, careful to avoid breaking the shadow a nearby lamp casted against the wall. Potter seemed to be muttering to himself, something unintelligible. Just as Draco had made himself comfortable, having checked the cloak was hiding him fully, he heard a small knock and a cry of frustration from Granger, although he couldn't see her.

"I give up!" Draco heard her cry. "This assignment is impossible! And can you please stop doing that, it's giving me a headache!"

"Er...sorry," Potter said.

After a brief moment, Granger said, "Sorry, I just..."

"Hey," Potter replied. "We've all been there."

Draco heard Granger's chair move back as she stood up. "I think I'm going to go for a walk, just to clear my head. Do you want to come?"

Draco rather thought that it wasn't a difficult question, but it still took Potter an age to answer. "Yes. Yes, I think I will." Draco rolled his eyes.

He heard Granger trying to shift some parchment and books around, then leave the room. After a moment he heard her return and the sound of Potter and Granger's footsteps fall away.

He hadn't known how to accomplish his plan when he had decided to come in here. He had really hoped that Potter and Granger would just start talking about the Prophecy when he got to them, and then that would be job done. No need for the Exaudio Orb. Job done.

No such luck.

He poked his head over the sofa and watched the two head towards the common room exit. He stood up to follow, but nearly knocked a couple of first years over in the process. He had to squeeze his stomach in to avoid them, but all the time he was wasting doing this only saw Potter and the mudblood get closer to the portrait-hole.

Draco was undecided as to what to do next. If he followed them, he might be able to find out everything he needed to know, but what if they didn't talk about it? He still had work here to do, and he might not get another chance like this. It would also take a lot longer to reach the portrait-hole by skirting the outside of the room, and it would be a terrible waste to do that only to have lost them at the other end.

His decision was made for him when the same first years he had almost knocked over went to sit on the table that Granger and Potter had just abandoned. It was still piled with books and parchment, but looked a little tidier than it had before. Granger had obviously not bothered to put everything away. The chair that Potter had been trying the Colour-Change Charm on was now changing appearance rapidly, a blinking cacophony of rainbow colours.

Just as the tiny people sat at the table, an older student rushed up to them and whispered hurriedly, "I told you before. This is their table! No one sits here but them!"

One of the first years just looked a little bewildered, but said, "Look, I know he's famous and all that, but it's not like he's so much more superior!"

Draco detested himself for agreeing with a lowly Gryffindor, but had to admit that at least this first year had the insight of a normal person.

The older student, who looked like a third year, just sighed and said, "It's just an unwritten rule, okay? It's more private over this side. If they come back, they'll probably expect you to move."

"Well, if they do, I may think about it. Depending on my mood, and if they beg me to."

The third year hurried away to his friends. If Draco hadn't known any better, he would have liked this chap. He was mildly impressed that a Gryffindor had spoken so arrogantly like that. And a first year at that. Draco rather thought he could have been in Slytherin.

During this exchange, where the third year had been blocking his way to the portrait-hole, Draco could only watch as Granger and Potter disappeared through the only way out of the common room. There was no way he could follow them now.

But a new opportunity had opened up to him. Unwittingly, that third year had given Draco invaluable information. This was their table. The Trio's. He hadn't known where he was going to hide the Exaudio Orb, another interesting little find from his father's collection of items. He would just have to wait for the first years to leave that table before carrying out his task.

Draco sat back down behind the sofa to wait.

The problem was, they never left it. After an hour of listening to their dull prattle, Draco was starting to get panicky. Things just weren't working out the way he had hoped it would. No, scrap that. More like prayed it would, before he died a horrible and probably very public death by the Dark Lord's hands for not producing the goods.

After about another half hour and various cramps had set in, Draco heard a scuffle coming from the portrait-hole, and looked over to the sofa to see Potter and Granger looking really quite concerned about something and grab Ron Weasley. They headed towards Draco and he thought he was finally going to hear something worth reporting, when they doubled back towards the opposite side of the room and started whispering fervently. It was obviously something important and, of course, Draco was verging on desperation to hear what was being said.

The first years had obviously decided not to move.

Draco cursed under his breath, using language foul enough even to shock himself.

After a few minutes where the trio talked quickly but quietly, Granger, looking exhausted and worried, headed in Draco's direction, and he held his breath. But she merely picked up her homework and books from the table, distracted enough not to notice the first years with their arms folded defiantly over their chests, and left the common room to go to her dormitory. After a moment, Potter and Weasley also came over to pick Potter's books up, and they disappeared up the opposite staircase. The first years almost looked disappointed at the lack of confrontation by the trio as they watched them disappear.

Draco cursed again. He had a fleeting idea that he could follow the boys up to their dormitory to spy, but the thought of seeing them half naked made him gag. He really didn't want to know what Gryffindor boys got up to in their dormitories or what they wore to bed (although he was rather curious to see how comfortable it was compared to the Slytherin dormitories, and judging from the common room, probably a lot more comfortable than his own, the bastards).

So Draco decided to wait for an opportunity to plant the Exaudio Orb. He looked at his expensive watch underneath the Invisibility Cloak. Half past nine. He still had to sneak into the library before he went to the Slytherin dungeons. And he still had homework to copy off of Blaise Zabini. And see Pansy. He was mortifyingly aware that he needed to keep her sweet, whether just lying to her or... other stuff. Euch and double euch, he thought to himself, and shuddered involuntarily. Although it wasn't something he was looking forward to, he considered it a necessary evil. Hurrying his thoughts to the present, he wished fervently that those first years at the table would just move and tried to mentally project this thought outwards to them. Mmmmmmmmove! Go on, hop it! and kept this mantra up for a while.

As luck would have it, not too long afterwards, they upped and left to see other people on the other side of the room.

Draco's eyes widened in astonishment at their obedience.

Then Draco realised they had moved because someone had actually called them over, and shook his head at himself, returning to the task at hand.

Draco noticed that a fair few of the Gryffindors were heading up to bed (It's only quarter to ten! he thought to himself), and decided to wait a little longer before moving out to plant the Exaudio Orb.

Draco didn't have to wait long, and when there were only a few couples left on the other side of the room, who didn't look as though they would be moving anytime soon due to the severe attachment to their partner's tonsils, Draco decided to take the chance.

He crept out from behind the sofa and, making sure his Invisibility Cloak wasn't threatening exposure by getting caught on furniture, crawled under the table. He took the Orb out of his pocket. It was the size of a Snitch, but made of a powder-blue furry material (not a colour that agreed with Malfoys, of course). He fixed it underneath the table with a permanent Floating Charm, took out his wand and whispered as quietly as he could, "Exaudio incipio."

He decided to test it before leaving, so he whispered a few choice swear words into the orb, then moved back behind the sofa. He took the Orb's partner device out from his pocket, which was exactly the same, only green, and whispered "Audior" to it, holding it up to his ear. His own voice could then be heard whispering back to him, as clear as if he had just said it. Before he put it away again, he muttered "Deleo' to it, to erase his own voice.

Satisfied that he'd done everything he needed to do for now, Draco crept out from the corner and quietly and swiftly edged around the room towards the portrait-hole door. Whereupon he came across his next hurdle. He had forgotten that he needed to wait for someone to leave so he could follow them through the hole. And no one looked like they were going to leave anytime soon.

Bugger to buggery, he swore to himself.

Any muggle watching him might have thought at this point that Draco was starting to look like a Scooby Doo villain, but Draco knew not of this muggle institute. He could only put his bad luck down to extreme bad planning and forethought, which, in turn, could only be put down to being under a considerable amount of pressure from various sources, not to mention an evil overlord baying for his blood if he failed. He could hardly blame himself for forgetting a few simple but essential factors.

Draco looked around desperately, well aware that time was ticking onwards.

Draco's only option now was to wait until everyone had left the common room before sneaking out through the hole. The problem was that the last couple in the room was sprawled out on the sofa closest to the portrait-hole, and although they looked extremely busy (wasn't that Weasley's sister?), Draco wasn't sure whether they wouldn't notice an invisible presence suddenly open the portrait-hole door.

After a few contemplative moments, in which the slurping sounds started to get rather tedious, the two on the sofa slid down so that the male of the two (Dean? Filthy mudblood...) was lying atop Weasley's sister, hidden now from Draco's view. Draco's Slytherin voyeuristic curiosity got the better of him and he crept over silently to take a peek over the sofa. He noted with a respectful wry smile that Dean was sliding his hand up Ginny's top, and suddenly remembering that these two were Gryffindors, the initial curiosity made way to a feeling of utter disgust, and the horror of potentially seeing where this might lead to. Prepared for any suspicion that it might cause, Draco swiftly turned on his heal and pulled the portrait-hole door open and crawled through. The possibility of being found in the Gryffindor common room was a much better prospect than being witness to... that.

He didn't hear anything more than a pleasured groan from behind him, and, shuddering again, exited through the other side, into the dimly lit corridor beyond. The picture of the Fat Lady behind him gave a disgruntled snore, and Draco froze, but she hadn't seemed to notice her portrait swing open and shut, despite almost falling off her chair in the process, and looked deep in sleep.

Draco turned and quickly made his way down the stairs towards the dungeons. He had just reached the bottom of the stairs by the Great Hall, when voices stopped him in his tracks. He peered through the bars of the banister to see Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall strolling side by side, the latter leaning lightly against her walking stick.

"... having a hard time," McGonagall was saying softly. Draco had to strain his ears to hear their voices.

"Yes, it's something that is regrettable. However, it is unavoidable," Dumbledore replied slowly.

"We can't just sit by and do nothing, Albus," McGonagall was saying, an edge of worry in her voice.

"But we must, Minerva. We must let him make his own way. He chooses to do it alone, without help. And making those choices are what make us adults."

Draco was a little confused, but his natural curiosity was aroused. He shifted slightly, so that he could watch the two Professors easily. They had stopped near the foot of the stairs, Dumbledore's back to Draco. Draco could see worry etched on McGonagall's face from where he was standing, even in the dim light emanating from the torches in the wall brackets.

"I worry, Albus. There is so much he does not know."

"He will, in time. I will not lie to him if he asks, but I doubt that it will be me he comes to."

"Yes, he does seem to be in his own world lately," McGonagall continued. "He must feel very alone in his task."

"Quite. However, his future has been foretold. We can only step back and wait. It is his destiny alone, and when he feels the time is right, he will ask for help, and we will be waiting. He must come to us only when he is ready. He has had a hard childhood, he is used to doing things on his own. I don't think he knows how to ask for help right now, but he needs it far more than he can imagine, and far more than we can possibly convince him."

Draco's ears pricked up. This is more like it, he thought to himself, but just as he thought they would continue the conversation, McGonagall changed the subject slightly. She turned to walk towards the door underneath the staircase that led to the teachers' quarters, and Dumbledore followed her.

"I'm nervous, Albus. The Order feels helpless and You-Know-Who is getting stronger every day. No one knows anything."

"That is because our enemy has hidden himself well and has kept his plans close to his chest. Even his closest allies, those whom we have captured and put under Veritaserum, do not know where he hides himself." Dumbledore was speaking in that infuriating all-knowing voice that Draco hated. The one that always suggested he knew more than he was letting on.

Draco strained to hear more, but Dumbledore had opened the door to let McGonagall through first, and as the door creaked closed behind them, Draco heard no more.

He stood up quickly, and made his way to the dungeons. As he muttered the password ("Minion" this week) to the portrait on the wall, and entered into the common room that was still full of people, the words rolled repetitively around his head. Alone in his task... This has been foretold... his destiny alone. The Prophecy about Potter and the Dark Lord.

From what he gathered, Potter had to deal with the Dark Lord on his own, and it was foretold that this would happen. But it wasn't enough. Draco suspected the Dark Lord might know all this already. He really needed to find out what was going on.

As Pansy attempted to sashay womanly over to Draco, a knowing, sly look on her face, he put on his usual blank, unreadable face and prayed that the Exaudio Orb would work. And soon, he pleaded desperately, as Pansy squeezed his backside and pulled him down onto the nearest sofa, sending some first years running.

The door swung and creaked slowly behind them.

"Speaking of hiding, young Master Malfoy was just behind the banister and heard everything we just said," Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"What? I didn't see... aah." Professor McGonagall frowned.

"Yes, it seems he has acquired a new toy," Dumbledore said lightly.

"Should we be concerned?"

"It matters not, Minerva. But I do think we should be a little more careful where we choose to speak from now on."

"Shall I tell Severus that one of his students is wandering the halls after curfew?"

"No, I see no need. We've been letting young Harry get away with it for years. I suppose I was asking for trouble when I gave him that cloak.....", and their voices faded into the darkness as they continued on towards their apartments.