Born Under A Bad Sign

"Draco, someone´s here to see you!" Narcissa Malfoy´s voice floated up the stairs, intruding on Draco´s thoughts. "Come down already! They´re waiting in the hall."

Draco padded softly over the carpeted landing, and ran his fingers through his soft hair. It was always like this; he would be up in his room, reading, or listening to the WWN, when they came. His mother would call him, and three or four cloaked Death Eaters would be standing there in the center of the hall, whispering among themselves. Narcissa would stand in the doorway, beaming at him with pride. This time there were five of them, all clad in black. They were not wearing their masks; Draco had insisted they were unnecessary on previous occasions, and it frightened the servants. He recognized one of the men, Antony Vittorio, who he had met at the Death Eater´s conclave. Vittorio grinned at him.

"Draco, it´s good to see you again." He stepped forward and leaned in close to Draco. "Things are moving quickly, as you should know. A little too quickly, I am told, for the comfort of some of our...supporters. I have been instructed to tell you that despite recent occurrences, the operation in Bath will be moving as scheduled." He turned to Draco´s mother. "Narcissa, do you mind if I sit down?"

"Not at all, Mr. Vittorio. Shall I get you a drink?"

"No, no, that´s not necessary. We´ll just be a few minutes." He reclined in a velvet-upholstered armchair and continued speaking to Draco. "We have some people pursuing this Potter business, trying to track down these Goblins who have him, but it is not our main focus. We only need a few people sniffing around for leads. Potter seems to be a bringer of bad fortune for us anyway, no?" He smiled.

"Vittorio, will there be anything involving me directly before my term begins at Hogwarts?" asked Draco.

"I do not believe Mrs. Lestrange has mentioned anything specifically regarding you...our Lord continues to insist his younger supporters remain inconspicuous, and I think it will continue to be so until Christmas, at the earliest. However, I may have something you could do for me, if you feel the need for action. I must have some things attended to, but I will owl you within the week." He laughed. "You seem to be languishing here! But don´t worry; Lord Voldemort wishes to meet with you, among others, before you return to Hogwarts." Vittorio turned to go, then halted. "Oh, I just remembered. I must give you this package. It contains all the details of our operations which our Lord feels it is safe to divulge at this time. Read it carefully, and make sure to dispose of it with all the necessary precautions! We must go now. Wait for my owl." Vittorio bowed his head swiftly as he left, the four other Death Eaters following him like a line of ants.

Draco was indeed languishing. Although only six days had passed since the Ministry attack, it seemed like an eternity to him. He had been forcefully `advised´ not to leave the house; people whom the Ministry and the Aurors suspected of being Death Eaters were to keep a low profile. Draco dispiritedly muttered "Imago" at the WWN. He had fixed it to cycle between his favorite programs during his time cooped up; the cycle began with the news. The regular anchor, Ryan Palmer was nowhere to be seen. Apparently, he was not doing the 12:00 news anymore. An attractive brunette had taken his place.

"In other news, a third café was destroyed in Paris today. No one was killed, but French Gendarmes working in cooperation with the Continental Aurors´ Department reported high levels of residual magic. The Armee pour Seperationne Magique, a group linked with the Death Eaters, has taken credit for the bombings. We´ll be right back with the rest of today´s top stories after these messages from your local station."

The image flickered as the station changed from BBC(M) to MagiSonic. The witch who was singing wore Hogwarts robes, though she was clearly past her school years. The sound faded.

"That was wonderful, wasn´t it folks?" said the DJ pleasantly. "Celestina Warbeck with her new single, `What Time Is It? (Mr. Werewolf)´. We´ve got lots more coming up, including the Charmingly Stunned with a remix of that old favorite, `Satisfaction´. But first, some hot news off of the hot string." The DJ pulled a string that burned with a blue-white flame, switching the screen to another host, dressed in brilliant orange. Draco winced and changed back to the news.

"Once again, our top stories. Lucius Malfoy, the esteemed head of Malfoy Industries Incorporated, was unexpectedly reported dead today. He is survived by his wife, Narcissa, and 15 year old son, Draco."

Draco smiled. "Yes! I made the news!" The anchor continued.

"With more on this developing story, we go to our guest reporter, the Daily Prophet´s Rita Skeeter, live at Gringott´s Economics Information Registry. Rita, are you there?"

"Yes, Candace, I´m here. I´ve been speaking to one of the head Goblins at the Registry. As you probably know, Lucius Malfoy was the first in his renowned and ancient family to invest the fortune he inherited. A Masters Degree in Economic Studies from the Orkney Institute for Post-Secondary Studies set him on track to becoming one of the top businessmen in our time and founder of Malfoy Industries, Inc. MII currently holds majority shares in many number of smaller companies, both muggle and magical."

"But Mr. Malfoy´s business career was not entirely without blemish, was it Rita?" interrupted the host.

"Absolutely not, Candace. In 1983, he was arrested on charges of complicity in Death Eater activities. Although he was acquitted of all charges, Mr. Malfoy and his businesses never fully escaped the taint of the scandal, and indeed many believe an investigation will turn up evidence that Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, and remained so until his death." Rita paused to catch her breath.

"What information do we have on Mr. Malfoy´s death, which we have learned happened more than a month ago?" asked Candace.

"The Ministry issued a formal Death Certificate for Lucius Malfoy yesterday evening after a press conference by the MII legal team. Cause of death and exact whereabouts of the body are unknown. For a certificate to be approved so quickly, some members of the Ministry must have known about his passing almost immediately after it occurred. Mr. Malfoy´s major stockholders also appear to have been informed, and indeed the official word from MII is that his death was kept quiet until the business had been put in order, the procedure that is stated in Malfoy´s public will. The will also states that his wife Narcissa will hold the Manor and its contents in trust for their son Draco until he graduates and is able to take ownership."

"Damn family traditions," Draco sighed with disappointment.

"The will also gives various amounts of cash and personal items to Mr. Malfoy´s largest stockholders and family friends."

"Thank you Rita. One more question: what is the statement of Mr. Malfoy´s estate on the cause of his death, and what is the official response? The Ministry supposedly needs concrete proof to issue a certificate." Rita checked her watch.

"Mr. Malfoy´s wife has stated that he died from a protracted bout of severely infectious pneumonia while visiting an unnamed family friend incarcerated in Azkaban prison. The Ministry denies this statement is true, though they have not given a reason or an explanation for their disagreement. I find I am obliged to accept the Malfoy estate´s claim here, as the Ministry seems to be nitpicking and they clearly must have enough evidence either way to issue the certificate, seeing as how that is what they did." Candace cut her off.

"Sorry, that´s all the time we have for now. Please tune in at five for the evening news with Ryan Palmer. Thanks, Rita. Coming up next...The Strong and the Magical, on BBC(M)." Draco said "Deruptus," and the image flickered and vanished. He reclined in his chair and closed his eyes, quickly nodding off to sleep in the hot August afternoon sun.

He woke up to a sharp peck on the bridge of his nose. An owl was standing on his chest, snapping its beak. A missive written on inexpensive parchment lay on Draco´s neck. Shooing the owl away, he unrolled the letter and began to read. It was, as he had expected, from Vittorio.

Well, thought Draco, the letter certainly sounded shifty enough. But then again, why not? After all, they were all up to their noses in illegal activities around here. He summoned his hooded travelling cloak and his wallet from his room, and quickly wrote his mother a note telling her he´d gone to London for the day. Making certain that he had his Apparition License, he focused his thought on the Vauxhall Gardens, the nearest he´d been to the address on the envelope. He was enveloped in a swirl of color that penetrated his eyelids, and opened his eyes to find his face inches from a bush covered in rose-hips. Jumping back from the bush in surprise, he looked around to make sure no muggles had seen him arrive. Long distance Apparating was a tricky business. He took out his wand and muttered "Point Me," getting his bearings before he set off for his destination. It was some distance still, all the way up by the river. At least a fifteen minute walk.

"Why did I wear my cloak?" he asked himself as an old woman gave him a suspicious glance. He took off the cloak and folded it under his arm.

Draco crossed a concrete traffic bridge with a thin sidewalk, the road leading past a foreboding structure nearby. He turned onto a street leading along the river, checking the addresses until the row of buildings ended at a wharf. Draco wandered nonchalantly down the walkway, shivering in the breeze off the Thames. He pulled his cloak back on, and put the hood up for good measure; who cared what fishermen and homeless muggles thought, anyway? He was about to turn around and go back when he saw an odd figure hunched under the arch of a ramp. It wore a long brown coat with a broad-brimmed hat that hung over its face. Draco took out the letter: `The person you will know when you see.´ As he headed over to the figure, he realized how odd this must look to any muggles nearby: He was hooded, wearing a long (and expensive) black cloak, and the other looked like a private eye right out of that ridiculous Martin Miggs series. Draco reclined against the concrete retaining wall.

"Vittorio told me to give you this," he said quietly.

"Vittorio, eh?" responded his counterpart. "This business gets continually more interesting. I hope he is not in over his head..." The voice of the figure was high-pitched, but caught in his throat regularly.

"I don´t know about that," replied Draco. "Vittorio and I are but casual acquaintances. Perhaps his envelope will contain more information." The figure stretched out a black-gloved hand.

"Give me this envelope. I must return to my associates." Draco removed the envelope from his back pocket and gave it to the him. "Thank you for your communication. I am sure Vittorio´s acquaintances will much appreciate it. Be certain to give them our regards when you see them again." The figure turned away from Draco, and he stepped out from under the ramp. As he walked back down the dockside, a muggle who had stopped nearby for a cigarette of questionable content and origin watched him go.

"Whoahh, a vampire!" he said with slowed speech. Draco realized too late that he was still wearing his hooded cloak.

"It´s the middle of the afternoon, you uneducated muggle fool," he said haughtily. As soon as the muggle turned away, Draco apparated back to the manor.

"...And Ministry officials continue their search for Harry Potter, who was abducted from his relatives´ home in Surrey just over three days ago. Speaking to reporters today, Minister Fudge reiterated that finding Potter is to be the most important focus of the MLES until his whereabouts is discovered. Potter, of course, has been the center of controversy ever since he claimed that You-Know-Who returned during the final task of last summer´s Triwizard Tournament, almost two months before the Ministry officially acknowledged that the event occurred. The Ministry and Daily Prophet later issued official apologies to Potter for comments made regarding his state of mind, but as he was then sequestered in his relatives´ care he could not respond. At the time Albus Dumbledore was quoted as saying `Serves those bureaucrats right, the shortsighted naysayers.´ For a more detailed look at the background of Harry Potter, tune in to tonight´s double feature, beginning with `Biography: Harry Potter´ at 8:00, followed by `The Rise of the Dark Arts since 1985: A Docudrama.´ Stay with us for today´s business news, with StockTracker Johnathen Kessel following Malfoy Industries, Inc., after this."

Draco turned off the WWN and went to look for a servant to get him some dinner. His mother was having a dinner party, and after making certain there was no one his own age, he took a few butterbeers and left his mother´s friends to their socializing.

Draco spent the rest of the evening practicing his dark curses on one of the servant´s pet hairless rats. Realizing it was already past 1 am, he banished the rat corpses into the hall and went to bed.

Trigg was beside himself with joy.

"Another two offers on you, Mr. Potter! You´re up to 278,300 Galleons! I am so going to win that betting pool! And Chaft should be back any time now..." he paced restlessly, counting on his fingers. Passing Bagman, he poked him in the belly. "I´ve only had one offer on you, and that´s from my cousin Vink. Says you owe a friend of his a tidy amount...I´m inclined to give you to him just to get you off of my hands. You´re starting to smell." Bagman choked on his gag. At that moment, someone rapped on the door. Trigg looked suspicious.

"Darj!" he called. "That must be Chaft, why don´t you let him in." Darj pushed the door open, and Chaft entered, grinning from ear to ear. He slapped Darj on the back, knocking him over.

"I got another two offers after you left," he cackled, pulling parchments out of his too-long overcoat. "One of them even offered another 200 for our friend here," he said with a gesture towards Bagman. "I pity the fool who messes with Goblins." He laughed and threw a rock at Bagman, hitting him above the eye. This set the other Goblins off, and they all started throwing hard objects at Bagman. The former Beater then made light of the situation by relieving himself. As he was hanging upside down from the rafters, this proved tremendously amusing to the Goblins, who were rolling on the floor in mirth by the time he was finished.

Harry winced. He hadn´t been worried during the first day or so of the kidnapping, but it had grown on him more and more as he sat in his chair in the warehouse. What if the Goblins killed Bagman? He wasn´t exactly valuable merchandise. And even though they wouldn´t hurt him, what would happen when he was finally sold? Eventually, he would end up in the hands of the Death Eaters, and then what? There was no reason, he thought, that Voldemort would miss yet another chance to kill him; it was simply too much to hope for. Sick of watching the Goblins attack Bagman, Harry tried to shout at the Goblins on his behalf, as apparently he was too exhausted and miserable to even curse. Harry´s gag stifled his words, but one of the Goblins must have noticed something, because Chaft- was it Chaft, Harry wondered? The tall one anyway, walked over and took out Harry´s gag. The air in the musty warehouse seemed strangely fresh after having the same cloth in his mouth for several days.

"You can´t just leave him up there like that!" shouted Harry as Ludo wriggled around a little. "Humans aren´t made for living upside down, and tied up!"

"Well neither are Goblins, but you don´t hear us complaining," said Trigg. Harry looked somewhat baffled.

"That doesn´t make any sense. You´re not even- oh, never mind. Look, I have money. I´ll write you an official note for Gringott´s, you can go and claim 500 Galleons in exchange for letting him go." Trigg looked skeptical.

"All right, but if they won´t take the note, he goes back to the rafters. And we´re going to release him to the custody of Chaft´s cousin, to make sure he doesn´t talk. Get his key, Chaft." Trigg said, nodding towards Harry.

"Chief, I already got his key. We took all his stuff off him the day we picked him up. Should I cut down this sack of flab?" he asked, prodding Bagman.

"Yeah, go ahead. Just watch you don´t break his neck." Chaft scrambled up to the rafters, produced a small knife, and sliced the ropes holding Bagman to the ceiling. Harry winced as he landed with a crunch. "Get a hose!" shouted Chaft.

"I´m not moving him `till he´s washed."

"You can go to the Alley and get your own damn hose, if you want it so much," said Trigg. We need supplies anyway."

Severus Snape´s contact finished another shot of Smirnoff; he was becoming distinctly wobbly.

"So I says to her, I says," the man´s face twitched and he hiccuped violently, "Say...Do I know you, Mr? Anyway, that was the end of that, y´know?" Snape smiled pleasantly as the man collapsed on the grungy floor. Fortunately, he had stayed sober long enough to finish giving the details for a meeting, set up with someone Snape had known once. Not long ago enough, he thought with a sigh. He left his contact passed out on the floor and left the bar.

He hummed softly to himself as he wandered through a small park. A stealthy movement behind him drew his attention, and he spun on his heel, only to see a squirrel running across the dry grass. He sighed with relief, but at that moment a hand grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around suddenly.

"Severus. How good to see you again, after all these years." It was a woman´s voice. Snape couldn´t see her face under the hood she wore. Two burly bodyguards, dressed as muggles but with wands in their hands, stood on either side of her. She nodded towards one of them. "Take him to the car."

After what seemed like an eternity in the Mercedes (The comfort of the seats was eclipsed by the size of the bodyguards on either side), it was a relief to get out and walk freely at last. A lovely Mediterranean-style house overlooked a plaza with a fountain and gardens. The room Snape found himself in was luxuriously appointed, with thick carpets and comfortable high-backed chairs. He paused in his pacing to consider the identity of his contact... If the woman really was his contact.

"How many women have I known over the years who would remember me anyway?" He asked himself softly. Certainly none from school...and after that there had been the Death Eaters. That was strictly business. But there was still... "That´s it!" he exclaimed loudly. One of the doors opened, and the woman walked in, her hood thrown back. "As I thought," said Snape. "Sofia. What did you do to your hair?"

"I could ask the same of you, Severus. I thought you´d ended your shampoo boycott?" They presented a striking couple, two figures swathed in flowing black robes and long cloaks, standing in the high-vaulted room. Her short, mussed blond hair contrasted with his long matted locks.

"You haven´t changed much, Sofia. Same sharp tongue, same love for unnecessary dramatics. You could have just met me where we agreed." Sofia grinned.

"This way is more comfortable, and safer. And I wanted to show you my house. It could have been yours, too, of course, but you had to go all righteous after that massacre. I mean, you weren´t really even involved, for Christ´s sake!"

Snape winced. "Sofia, please. I had nothing but my own best interests at heart, and you know it. We don´t need to rehash this. It´s all long past."

"Not really, Severus. It never ends. But you´re right, let´s not discuss it now. I have a proposition for you. Sit down, please." Snape sat stiffly in one of the huge armchairs. "Dear Uncle Donald is dead, Severus, as you´ve probably heard. As for why I wanted to meet you, well, normally I´d have one of my own people do it, but as you´ll see we´re rather in a bind."

"Cut to the chase Sofia. What do you want me to do? And what´s in it for me?"

Sofia´s smile faded. "Alright, straight to the point. You have legitimate and illegitimate connections in so many places, some are even useful to me. I have seventeen quarts of undistilled dragon´s blood coming in to Southampton from the States in three days as part of a larger shipment." Snape´s face quivered.

"Seventeen quarts, Sofia! I had no idea you could run that much. Just think for a moment where that could end up!"

"Trust me, Severus, it´s all worked out. My people at the loading bay where it should have come in had everything in order, but, unfortunately a Death Eater bomb went off there two days after the tanker left the states, and now it´s been diverted to Southampton. There´s not enough time to change plans now, and I need you to pick up the blood for me discreetly and bring it back here. In return, I´m prepared to offer you some information on Harry Potter that has reached my ears. I know that you´re interested in that topic."

Snape looked thoughtful. "I´ll have to consider this. That much blood could have incredibly destructive properties..." he thought for another moment. "I´ll need the information right now. I give you my word that I will do as you ask once I have acted on your information."

She appeared skeptical. "It´ll have to be a binding magical contract, then. I know you too well to trust you." Snape rolled his eyes. "Swear it, Severus, or the deal´s off now. I´m only offering it because I don´t want the Death Eaters in power that much, either! I know better than to trust your word."

"Very well, Sofia. You´ll have your dragon´s blood. I swear it on the essence of my magic." He winced as he spoke the last words.

Sofia sighed with relief. "I think that´s enough business for now. Come on, we´ll have dinner with the family here, it´s a big crowd these days. I´m sure there´s a lot of people who´ll want to talk to you. We´ll take Potter later." She motioned for Snape to follow her as she left the hall.

"Furthermore, I cannot emphasize enough how important control is. Controlling magic is something you´ve grown up with, but I´m not talking about that. I´m talking about controlling a situation. If you are not in control of the situation, you are in infinitely more danger. Always, always, a successful Auror is an Auror who is in control. And an Auror who is not successful is most likely dead."

The Professor continued his lesson, but one student was not interested. She was distracted by a voice in his head.

"That´s right, the crystal goes in the left slot...excellent." A soft humming noise began to build in the room. The young woman fumbled with something beneath the bag in her lap. Now say the words..." The girl sat up straight and looked around.

"Coeptum excidiumi," she whispered quickly, conscious that the people nearest her had noticed the sound. The noise rose and a purple light began to flicker from an object the girl held.

"Stop her!" shouted the professor, a note of panic in his voice. Too late- the girl pointed her wand at the buzzing object.

"Confectoris!" she shouted, and a ringing sound filled the room. A look of confusion crossed the girl´s face.

In a calm garden adjacent to the clustered buildings of the Auror´s Academy, Liam Avery reclined on a bench. A low hum came from a device he held in his palms. A smirk on his face, Avery focussed his thought on the girl he´d spoken to earlier that morning. Looking in the direction of the College, he put down the object in his hand and waved his wand about in the air.

"Finite Incantatem," he said softly. As he spoke the words, a cloud of flame erupted above one of the college´s buildings. The device he´d dropped went off like a firecracker. Avery stood and left the garden whistling as screams rang in the distance.

In a second-floor corridor, Quentin Morris looked at the map again.

"Take a right," he called to the rest of his group. "Yes, it´s right here. It looks like it must be here, behind this statue. If I remember Hogwarts, there´s probably a password." He leaned on the wall next to the gargoyle statue.

"Oh, just blast the thing," said one of the Death Eaters. She took her wand out and pointed it at the statue. "Redusen!" A jet of light hit the statue, with no effect. Suddenly, the gargoyle leapt forward and bit the Death Eater´s arm. An alarm went off shrilly, and large pineapple flew out of nowhere, hitting a Death Eater and knocking him unconscious. Morris tried to organize the Death Eaters, but various fruits were flying through the air, along with jets of colorful water from overhead. The gargoyle statue was on a rampage, knocking masked figures out of its path. Morris looked down at the map and saw tiny writing above the image of the gargoyle.

"Fisherman´s Friend!" he shouted, and the statue leapt back to its place in the wall before sliding aside to reveal a staircase. Just as Morris started up the staircase, the source of the flying fruit was revealed- Peeves the Poltergeist darted forward and snatched the map from Morris´s grasp before rocketing away. Morris cursed, shaking his fist at the retreating Peeves as the stairway carried him upwards. Three Death Eaters followed as he entered Dumbledore´s office, all hunting through drawers and cabinets, most of which fought back when opened. Morris himself was hit in the groin by Dumbledore´s desk, and the female Death Eater who had attacked the statue was engaged in a furious battle with the phoenix, Fawkes.

"I´ve got it!" shouted a Death Eater, waving a long osprey-feather quill in one hand while his other arm was being slammed repeatedly in a drawer. "Now let´s get the hell out of here!" The Death Eater tossed the quill to Morris just in time; a chandelier fell on his head, knocking him out with a crash. Morris ran for the stairway as his last Death Eater was cut down by flying silverware. Calling to the ragtag remnants of his squad as he fled, Morris heard a crunch as a Hogwarts house elf threw one of his Death Eaters down the corridor. Running down a staircase into the great hall, he suddenly felt the staircase shifting. With a wrench, it threw the Death Eaters forward and painfully down to the first floor. Sprinting through the entry hall, not daring to look back and see if any of his squad remained, Morris tripped over something small and grey, and flew headlong into the door, knocking it open with the force of his fall. A sharp pain ripped through his back as he got up- it was Mrs. Norris he had tripped over, and she had sunk her claws into his shoulders. He ripped the cat off, along with a good portion of his robes, and ran, hoping only to get as far from Hogwarts as possible.

Albus Dumbledore checked his magical watch- Jupiter was flashing and buzzing rather insistently. He turned to see Professor McGonagall assisting an injured student away from the blazing building, and called her over.

"Minerva, I´m afraid it may have been a mistake coming here. Alarms have been set off at Hogwarts. With neither us nor Snape there, I am afraid that this attack has been a carefully orchestrated diversion. Whatever they´re doing at Hogwarts, I´m sure it is important. Go back and see what the commotion is. I´ll stay here and assist in the recovery." Dumbledore sighed softly, and turned back to the rows of injured students laid out on the lawn as McGonagall vanished.

Professor McGonagall apparated onto the sidewalk outside of Zonko´s in Hogsmeade and set off towards Hogwarts at a run. She had just passed the last building on the street when a rustle in the bushes caught her attention.

"Who´s there? Show yourself at once!" she cried. The rustling ceased at once, and a stunning spell sent into the bushes had no effect. A brief examination of the thick shrubbery revealed no sign of anyone, but a glint of white caught the Professor´s eye. Under a large leaf lay half of a Death Eater mask, cracked jaggedly crosswise. A final quick look around revealed nothing more.

"Drat," muttered McGonagall under her breath as she set off again for Hogwarts. At the front gate, McGonagall saw a familiar figure holding his cat.

"Argus! Are you all right? What happened?" Filch looked worried.

"I was helping Professor Flitwick with some research when the alarms went off. We went to the Great Hall as soon as possible, but we were too late- all the Death Eaters are either dead, unconscious, or gone. Professor Flitwick is keeping the prisoners stunned now; we´ve left them in the great hall. It´s a mess on the first and second floors, apparently Peeves pelted them with fruit. I´ll have a job cleaning it up. You should talk to Flitwick, I reckon he knows what they were doing here."

"Thanks, Argus. At least none of us are hurt. We´ll figure out what went on here soon enough."

"Furtum Deprehensio!" said Professor Flitwick, and the silvery glow about him condensed into words on the parchment he held.

"Well, let´s see here. In the past two months, objects stolen from this office are: an umbrella, three slices of fruitcake, a pair of socks, and- oh, god, Minerva."

"What? What is it, Filius?" asked McGonagall.

"Slytherin´s Quill of Differentiation. They´ve stolen it!" McGonagall looked surprised.

"But why? The quill´s only practical purpose is to record new potential students born in Great Britain, and determine whether they are of wizarding birth or otherwise. It´s a huge risk for Voldemort to send people here to steal it. What would he gain from it?"

"Minerva, think for a minute. Even if he used it as we have, it could do great harm; he could wipe out any magical children not of pure blood as soon as they were born! But I am certain the quill is more powerful than that. It is the only remaining artifact from Salazar Slytherin´s attempt to drive mixed-blood students out of the school... Any artifact that old has a powerful residue of magic about it. In the Dark Lord´s hands it will almost certainly have some purpose we have not yet thought of."

"We should get Albus back here as soon as possible, then. He will want to hear about this, and speak to the prisoners as well, no doubt. Captive Death Eaters only come along every so often, after all."

The eagle owl dipped towards the window with a final, graceful motion and stooped to land on the precipice of the roof. Draco watched lazily from the chair he sat in, magically balanced on the roof of the manor. The owl hopped once and glided to sink a talon into the plush arm of the chair. The other claw held a sealed roll of parchment.

"Oh, good girl, Mel," said Draco, stroking the owl´s back. "Let´s see what you have for me. It had better not be another letter from Pansy..."

Draco´s eyes lit up when he saw the wax seal bearing the Dark Mark. He summoned a letter opener from his desk and slit the envelope. The letter was short, but nevertheless sweet to Draco.

Walking lightly across the roof back to his window, Draco ducked inside to perform a simple retainment charm that would remind him of the gathering. His memory crystal shone faintly as he completed the charm. "Incendio," he said softly, and the letter burst into flames, removing any evidence. Draco slipped back out the window to enjoy the sun some more, and think about the amusingly illegal activities to come in the days ahead.