Several Miles from the Sun

CHAPTER TWELVE: LUCIUS MALFOY

The Hufflepuffs' den was a room quite like Gryffindor Tower. It was large, comfortable and warm, and gave a feeling of being safe. It was a room that Harry had never been to except in his dreams, so the fact that at the moment he happened to be in it could only indicate the reality of the realm in which he was. A fire was roaring in the chimney, and the place was well lit with candles. There was no furniture in the place, except for an armchair with a high back. Sitting in it was a handsome boy, perhaps no older than seventeen, blond and smiling. Across his lap was a sword, one that he did not hold with his hands, imbedded with rubies.

Harry snorted. "You're really a pain in the arse, you know?" he said. "I'm trying to get some sleep, and here you are messing about in my head, Cedric."

Cedric smiled good-naturedly. "It was about time I dropped in for a chat, Potter. You've managed to cause a bit of a commotion, haven't you?"

A second chair appeared suddenly, although it was more of a stool, and Harry sat down, rolling his eyes. "What do you have for me this time? Enigmatic sign language? Riddles spelled with Gobstones?"

"You're awfully sarcastic tonight, Potter," said Cedric. "Have your houseguests rattled you up?"

"Ah," Harry said in understanding. "A warning. I like those best. Is it Professor Trelawney? Because, trust me, I've hidden all the liquor."

"It's Regulus Black, actually," and Cedric's smile disappeared. "We haven't spoken about him. But I've been inside his mind, Harry, and it's not good."

"Did you see dreams of Regulus standing over my bed with an axe?" Harry asked dryly. The logs in the fireplace snapped playfully.

"I'd keep a close eye on him if I were you," Cedric said. He touched a ruby on the sword. "You know me, your little guardian angel and all."

Harry scoffed. "Is there a particular reason why you're holding Gryffindor's sword? Is that a second warning, that it'd eat up my hand or something?"

Cedric grinned. "So you've heard that bedtime story about bad things happening to those who play with the heirs' things, eh?"

"Is it true?" Harry asked.

"Look at Voldemort." Cedric stood up, holding the sword with both hands, as though presenting it. "You know I like to be as cryptic as possible. It's a perk and all, but, Harry, listen to me carefully. This sword will bring you what you want, and it will take something from you. Only when you are ready to give something, can you use it."

Harry took the sword and nodded. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure. Hey, want something to eat? I make the best blueberry pie. Well... in your dreams, of course," said Cedric, winking.

A blueberry pie appeared in front of Harry. "Er," he said. "Nah, thanks."

"Hermione was telling me about equivalent trade and how, because of it, we can't bring back the dead. This sword business sounds the same. Is it?" Harry asked.

Cedric grinned. "Hermione's a smart girl. I'd say the sword is about the same. And, before you ask, yes, you brought back Regulus, but the real question is where did you bring him from?"

Harry found the room fading before him, although Cedric still remained standing and looking the same.

"Oh, and one more thing, Harry. I'd start expanding your house a bit."

-!-

Before leaving for Azkaban, Harry helped himself to a generous amount of Felix Felicis. He instantly felt very happy, almost giddy, and the tension that had caused his shoulders to limp was lifted. He pushed his glasses up his nose, looked at his reflection in his mirror, and went with Arthur to the Ministry.

Despite being rush hour, the train compartment held little people and they arrived earlier than expected at the doors of the Ministry. Arthur dawdled nervously before Harry, but Harry gave him a confident grin and the man left, sulking.

Percy was waiting for him once again, and took him toward the lower floors of the Ministry, where the Portkeys were kept safe. Looking extremely annoyed, Percy pulled out a tattered old shoe from a shelf and handed it brusquely to Harry.

Without knowing why, Harry immediately found himself saying, "Penelope must be very happy that you're in such a high position, Perce." It took Harry a while to remember who exactly Penelope was.

Percy looked taken back, and answered almost whisperingly, "She's a bit upset that my family and I have taken different paths." And then after a slight pause, "She's making me sleep on the sofa."

Harry made sympathetic noises. "Oh, well, family differences and all," he mused.

Percy was looking at him strangely, but a familiar tug at Harry's navel stopped him from making any further comments, and he began to feel slightly queasy as the Portkey did its job.

Harry had imagined Azkaban to be a sort of Hogwarts-like castle but filled with dungeons and cells instead of classrooms. He was only right on one point, and that was the fact that Azkaban had plenty of cells.

He had arrived about fifteen steps from the entrance, but the entire building seemed to loom in front of him in the most menacing way possible. It was shaped like a rectangle and seemed to run on for many miles while it only had four storeys. The magic that shaped it, made it look as old as Hogwarts and gave off a strong, dark vibe that made Harry feel as though he were battling a big Boggart and had forgotten how to banish it.

Almost instinctively, even though his wand was still in his pocket, he began to muster happy thoughts: riding a broom for the first time; learning that Sirius wanted them to be a family; knowing that someone out there really loved him; Ginny kissing him in the Common Room; Chadwick being unveiled before his eyes. All these thoughts failed and Harry only felt more devastation. He wondered if this was what Azkaban felt like without Dementors, how bad was it before?

Only the effect of the Felix Felicis seemed to allow him to continue walking.

Two people were waiting for him. One was someone unknown, tall, male, with a black beard and moustache but no hair on his head. The other was Kingsley, who looked bored and inattentive to his surroundings.

"Potter," Kingsley greeted, his tone cold and impersonal, "the Ministry has given strict orders that we are to keep guard on you during your visit. For safety reasons, of course. If you have your pass?"

Harry handed him the slip of paper wordlessly. The other Auror kept glancing at him, his eyes always returning to the lightning bolt scar.

"Follow us, then," Kingsley said. "The Minister said you wanted to visit Lucius Malfoy?"

"Yes, please," Harry answered. The potion was telling him to remain polite, and not just because it was Kingsley. Something about the other Auror was important; a detail that was wrapping around Harry's mind, but that he couldn't place. Only the Felix Felicis told him to act normal, to ignore the show he had put on at the Ministry the other day.

The other Auror held the door open, and Kingsley walked in, followed by Harry, and then the other. They kept that position throughout the entire trip. Harry tried to focus his stare on what was ahead of him, but he couldn't help and look at the cells to his sides. There was a lack of inmates, and the few that were there, stared at Harry blankly, recognising him immediately, but not uttering a single sound.

Azkaban was divided into various sections, and the farther you ventured inside, the more dangerous the prisoner. It felt, to Harry, like the circles of Hell. They passed at least three blocks before coming to a stop. The block was completely deserted except for a light in one cell; Harry didn't have to guess who was in it.

The second Auror pulled up a chair for Harry. Lucius Malfoy was staring at him, but didn't acknowledge his presence. His blond hair had been cut short and looked filthy. He was wearing the standard dark grey robes, which made his pale skin stand out. Harry saw that Malfoy had the appearance of a dying man.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mister Potter," Malfoy finally rasped.

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the potion held him back.

There was a loud commotion and the sound of doors being slammed open, resonated. Kingsley and the other Auror were startled as a third appeared, yelling, "We have a break out! That bastard's set fireworks and managed to sneak out of his cell! Red alert!"

"What bastard?" Kingsley demanded.

Fireworks? thought Harry. Well, it had worked once....

"That cunning thief!" the Auror spat. "Fletcher!"

Harry's eyebrows raised and he looked at Kingsley curiously. However, Kingsley looked surprised himself.

"Surely you only need a handful of Aurors to take care of that matter?" Kingsley demanded.

"The fireworks are reproducing! Fletcher is letting out all the inmates of the second block! It's a disaster!" the Auror wailed.

"For goodness's sake! Humphrey, go with him!" Kingsley ordered. "If Mister Potter finishes his task and those prisoners aren't back in the cells, it'll cost you both your jobs!"

Humphrey and the third Auror nodded vigorously and broke into a run, not giving Harry a second glance. Harry wondered who had staged Mundungus' outbreak. Kingsley, looking slightly grumpy, gave Lucius a warning glance and went to stage himself at the door as a look out.

"I hear Dumbledore is dead," Malfoy continued, as though such troubles in Azkaban were common. "Apparently my Lord finally got his hand in."

The memory of that night became bright in Harry's mind. He found himself lying. "It was your son, actually, who killed Professor Dumbledore."

Kingsley's eyes widened slightly before he resumed his normal pose.

Lucius looked surprised. "Draco?" he rasped. "It was Draco?"

Harry nodded. "I'm surprised nobody's come to boast. Draco managed to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and then slayed Dumbledore with his own wand." Harry's tone became angry. "I guess he got his revenge for you being here, eh?"

Malfoy looked thoughtful, but Harry didn't know if he was happy or upset about the news. They stared at each other for a while, both studying the other.

"What are you here for, Potter?" Malfoy demanded. "I happen to have a very busy schedule."

Harry bit back a snort. The Felix Felicis told him not to reveal anything yet. The walls had ears. Now was not the time.

"I thought we could have a small chat," Harry said. "Perhaps something you forgot to tell the Aurors, and would like to tell me."

Malfoy laughed. It sounded hollow and forced and echoed across the walls. "You can shove all the Veritaserum you like down my throat, Potter. I will not betray my Lord," he snapped.

"Draco almost did," Harry said, keeping his tone normal, as though he were discussing a Quidditch match. "I was there that night, did you know?"

Lucius stared at him, calculating, but didn't comment. He knew he was being baited; dehydration hadn't rattled his brains.

"It was just him and Dumbledore," Harry continued. "Draco raised his wand, Dumbledore didn't have his." And then as the potion squeezed the night back to life, "It was very smart the way Draco did it. He was all set, wasn't he? Made a name for himself. All that boasting of being the youngest Death Eater was true."

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," Lucius said, his voice dry.

Harry pretended to look surprised. He was angry, furious, reliving that night. He wanted to make Lucius pay for what his son had done. Felix Felicis, however, kept him calm, stopped him from showing his rage, almost telling him what to do.

"But then something happened," he said, leaning as close to the bars as possible, as if sharing some secret with Lucius. "Draco broke down. I guess that happens when someone is threatening to kill you all the time. Well... I would know, wouldn't I?"

Harry observed as Lucius cleared his throat, his fists clenching, but whether out of pride or pity he couldn't tell. Lucius still wouldn't say anything, and Harry knew he was being studied as hard as he was studying Lucius in return. The faint sound of fireworks whizzing around and blowing up could still be heard.

"Draco... Draco reminded me of a saying that Professor Lupin told me once," Harry continued. He was lying; Remus had never done such thing, but it was the first name to come to mind. "He said, 'The courageous man is that of good intentions.' I don't personally believe it, but that's what Lupin said." Harry paused for effect. The potion was telling him to be careful, these were the last few steps. "I guess that would make Draco courageous, then, wouldn't it? I mean, from what I heard that night, he was doing it based on good intentions--of course, not the ideal ones for us, but pretty loyal to Mrs Malfoy." Harry was going to say Narcissa, but it seemed too personal to do so.

Lucius was suddenly on his feet, gripping the bars. Kingsley moved closer, but Harry shook his head. This was what he was waiting for. He eyed Lucius, but remained seated. Inside, he was trembling to death out of fear and fury.

"What are you talking about?" Lucius hissed.

Something seemed to clench at Harry's heart, twisting it violently, making him utter the words through exhausted breath, "Mrs Malfoy is dead. Voldemort had her killed. Draco did all of that for nothing."

Kingsley looked surprised, but it was nothing in comparison with Lucius' face. He had turned a pasty green, ready to be ill, clutching on to the bars of his prison as if he were a sailor being blown away.

"You're..." Lucius failed. He only stared at Harry, completely losing his composure. For the first time Harry saw him as a man who had lost everything.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, pretending to mean it, pretending that Mrs Malfoy was actually dead. Who knew, maybe she was.

"What... what of Draco?" demanded Lucius.

Harry shrugged casually. "Our informants tell us he's next in line for the noose. After all, a sixteen-year-old boy is of no real use to your Lord, is he? Draco's already done his bit."

It actually pained Harry that Lucius accepted this; that the possibility of Voldemort eliminating Draco after such a successful job like Hogwarts was quite capable of happening. For one brief moment Harry worried about Draco, but then the rage of Dumbledore's death returned.

Lucius had sunk to the floor. He was kneeling, pressing his forehead against the bars. He looked like a dying man praying.

Harry knelt in front of Lucius, staring at him straight in the eye, but not saying anything. The potion was prodding him, making him leave, but to leave his body, not Azkaban. Harry felt as though he was stepping away from his physical being, like those films of ghosts leaving their bodies. In a way, like a dream, he could see himself step up, leaving a Harry kneeling, lean over to Lucius, and then enter the blond man.

Harry knew it was Legilimency, or at least a form of it, but he ignored all rational thought and allowed the potion to guide him. He'd ask Hermione all his questions later.

The first thing Harry thought was that perhaps he had made a wrong turn somewhere. He was standing in a library; it went on and on. He couldn't, in fact, see where the room ended either in height or length. Books adorned the shelves in many sizes and shapes. Harry cautiously took one.

Suddenly he was in a field. White tents had been erected and in the distance a large, looming house could be seen. Balloons in white and gold adorned the place, and a long table filled with food had been set up. Harry realised that people were bustling around him.

A memory.

"Kuh! That baby looks like it'll have its face on posters and on the covers of books, not be in politics," someone said.

Harry sort out the voice, seeing a small group of people gathered around. He immediately recognised them.

Lucius Malfoy, dressed in plush green robes, was standing next to his wife, who, for the first time, Harry saw smiling. She looked incredibly beautiful in white robes, and was holding a small infant. It looked like a boy, small and slightly chubby, with fluffy blond hair and a delighted smile.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. It was Draco!

"Don't be mean, Rodolphus," a woman with long black hair said. "Draco is meant to do important things."

It was Bellatrix. Harry was only able to recognise her because of her voice. There was a startling difference between how she looked now and how she looked when he had seen her in the Ministry.

"Is Andromeda coming?" Narcissa asked, as Draco tried to wriggle out of her arms.

Bellatrix snorted. "That Muggle-loving bitch?"

Lucius patted his wife's hand. "Don't worry about it, Cissa," he said soothingly. "I'm sure Andromeda would love to, but she probably got caught up in her own affairs."

Harry walked backwards, trying to get back to the spot he had appeared in, without losing sight of the family. It seemed so strange to see them like that, normal, happy.

Take me back to the library, he thought.

Harry lost his balance as he was whizzed from one place to another, and stumbled into a bookshelf, causing quite a few volumes to fall on top of him. He was still holding the one that had taken him to see the party of Draco's birth. The book stared back at him. There was no title on the cover, no clue to guide him to finding others.

The potion.

Harry concentrated as much as possible on finding the correct volume. He sat up, brushing the books off him. He saw a volume lying in front of him, its pages already open, almost daring him to pick it.

This is the one.

Harry took it.

Harry took it and then he went back to his body.