Harry Potter and the Tome of Shadows

    Chapter 3: The Malfoy Family Lawyer

    “Are you sure about this Floo Powder thing?” Aunt Petunia asked, looking at the dust and glancing nervously at the fireplace. From the expression on her face, Harry could tell she was seeing the fireplace in a whole new light.

    “It’s all right, I’ve done it loads of times,” Ron said brightly. “And besides, if something goes wrong, you can’t get too lost.”

    “Like that time I ended up in Knockturn Alley?” Harry said, his eyebrows raised.

    “Well...that wasn’t too far from Diagon Alley,” Ron said, losing steam.

    “It’ll be fine, Mrs. Dursley. We’ll go first to show you how to do it,” Hermione said. Ron grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, stepped into the fireplace. Hermione strode forward and did the same, getting swallowed up in green flames.

    “You should go next, Aunt Petunia, so if you say something wrong I can find you,” Harry said.

    “All right,” she said, uncertainly grabbing some Floo Powder.

    “Remember to say ‘Diagon Alley’ very clearly, or you’ll end up somewhere else.”

    “All right,” she said, stepping into the fireplace. She coughed in the ashes, but she tried to compose herself enough so that she could say her destination clearly. Before she was ready to go, however, the front door opened. Dudley walked into the house. Harry turned, looking warily at his cousin. He was bound to make the situation a bit more uncomfortable.

    “Ready, Aunt Petunia?” Harry said, attempting to prompt her into using the Floo Powder.

    “Dudley? What are you doing here?” Aunt Petunia said, her voice echoing strangely in the fireplace. Dudley turned, and when he saw the unusual sight of Aunt Petunia standing in the fireplace, he scowled.

    “Just ignore him, Aunt Petunia,” Harry muttered, but Aunt Petunia had already started to tear up.

    “Dudley?” she said, but Dudley wasn’t listening. He scowled again and left the house. “Dudley!” Aunt Petunia dropped the Floo Powder, and Harry looked on horrified as the green flames shot up, and his aunt disappeared.    

    “Aunt Petunia!” he yelled, but it was too late. Aunt Petunia had gone somewhere, with the only destination of “Dudley” to get her there. Harry’s head started to buzz with panic. What should he do? He had no idea what to do in a situation like this. The only thought that came to his head was to go to Diagon Alley, and then enlist the aid of Ron and Hermione. Harry grabbed the pot of Floo Powder and filled his hand with some.

    “Diagon Alley!” he shouted, and the green flames shot up once more. He was speeding along, his eyes closed so he couldn’t watch the numerous fireplaces swirl by him. He felt the usual nauseous feeling when he traveled by Floo Powder, but the panic that was filling him up overrode any sickness. What if they couldn’t find his Aunt? Aunt Petunia in the hands of Voldemort or his followers would not be a good thing. With her dead, Harry’s protection at Privet Drive would fail. More to the point, he didn’t want anything happening to her, which made finding her more imperative. Dudley sure picked the absolute worst time to stop in unexpectedly.

    Harry fell out of the fireplace, coughing from the ash. He checked to make sure his glasses weren’t broken, satisfied himself with their condition, and then walked out of the fireplace. They were in Gringott’s bank; Harry watched the goblins walking to and fro, carrying large bags of money. Hermione and Ron were standing not too far away.     

    “Harry, finally, what took you so long,” Ron said, but Hermione was suddenly looking anxious.

    “Harry, where is your aunt?” she asked, her eyes glancing at the fireplace.

    “I don’t know. Dudley came in the house and she got distracted and I think she’s lost,” Harry said worriedly.

    “What did she say into the fireplace?” Ron asked, looking around Gringotts as if Aunt Petunia would be in the bank.

    “Dudley,” Harry responded. “We need to find her, if something happens to her...”

    “We’ll find her,” Hermione said, biting her lip. “I suppose we could say Dudley when we go into the fireplace.”

    “I don’t think so,” Ron said, shaking his head. “Floo Powder doesn’t get you too lost, no matter how badly you mispronounce your destination. A lot of the pronunciation is for where you come out.”

    “That sort of makes sense,” Harry agreed. “I didn’t say anything remotely like Knockturn Alley back in second year, but that’s where I came out.”

    “Exactly. Your destination was Diagon Alley, but you mispronounced, so you came out pretty close to it but not exactly where you wanted to be,” Ron said.

    “So she’s probably around here?” Harry asked.

    “I think so,” Ron said, his face filled with reluctant confidence. “If we split up we can cover more ground.”

    “No way,” Hermione said at once. “Diagon Alley is nowhere near safe, remember last year? We stick together. Maybe there’s someone around we can ask for help.”

    “Like who?” Harry asked skeptically. “I don’t fancy asking strangers for help and then watching them turn out to be Death Eaters.”

    “Too right,” Ron agreed.

    “What about Mr. Ollivander? Isn’t he part of the Order?” Hermione asked, pointing to Ollivanders down the street.    

    “It’s the best we’ve got,” Harry said, sprinting out of the bank. Harry felt a slight twinge of emotion that he couldn’t quite figure out. Mr. Ollivander created the Orb of Power, or at least someone in his family did. The Orb caused a lot of trouble, too much trouble for its worth. Sirius was dead because of it, that was for sure. But the fact remained that Harry had destroyed the Orb, meaning he had no way of finding out what was next in the chain, which inevitably meant he couldn’t stop Voldemort from completing his plan.

    But did he even want to stop Voldemort? He was going to die trying if he did, that was for sure. And the way Dumbledore talked about it implied that Harry did not have a choice in the matter. Why couldn’t Dumbledore just find a way to stop him? He had more power than Harry, he knew a lot more about magic. Why did it have to fall to him? Because he had Gryffindor’s blood in him? His Gryffindor lineage did nothing to help his father from being murdered, neither did it stop Voldemort from torturing him in his fourth year. He, Harry, was not spectacular. It was luck. All luck.

    The three of them entered into Ollivander’s wand shop. The air was dusty; the light barely filtered through the air in the shop. Harry felt a chill run down his spine as he spotted the lone wand sitting on a purple cushion.

    “I wonder where he is,” Ron said aloud, looking in the rows of wands for the wand maker. Hermione too started searching in the rows, periodically calling for Mr. Ollivander. Harry was mesmerized by the wand on the purple cushion. Harry could feel something in the air, something that was alerting his senses in a way he couldn’t explain. He approached the wand, feeling power radiating from it. He wanted to grab it, to perform spells with it, but when he reached out his hand, he felt a rough hand grab his collar.

    “I doubt you want to touch that, Mr. Potter.” Harry spun around and saw Mr. Ollivander standing in front of him. His pale, moonlike eyes were still as haunting as ever, and his long fingers were entwined in his shirt.

    “Sorry. I couldn’t help it.”

    “Yes, yes, I understand,” Mr. Ollivander said, his eyes narrowing. “Of course you would be drawn to that wand. Not many have been, but the few that have...”

    “What is it?” Harry asked, his curiosity overwhelming his need to find Aunt Petunia.

    “It’s a wand, of course, but a wand of historical significance. If you were to have touched that wand, you would have fallen into an instantaneous coma. There are spells protecting it of course, because it is the first wand ever created.”

    “You have the first wand in creation?” Harry asked incredulously.

    “Correction, Mr. Potter. I made the first wand in creation.”

    “But...that would make you...”

    “Very old indeed.”    

    “You must have a Sorcerer’s Stone then,” Harry concluded.

    “No. There are...other ways...of staying alive for a long period of time. Two alternatives to the Elixer of Life, I’m afraid.”

    “Then Voldemort...”

    “He cannot use any of these alternatives. However, we cannot speak of them now. Dumbledore doesn’t want you knowing.”

    “Of course,” Harry said, his anger towards the Headmaster growing once again.

    “Do not be angry, Mr. Potter, you’ll learn in time. These things are yours to know when the time comes. For now, however, I must insist that we find your Aunt, because that is the more pressing emergency.”

    “How did you know?” Harry asked, but before Ollivander could answer, Hermione and Ron came out of the rows.

    “I see your flanked by your protectors,” Mr. Ollivander said with as close to an amused look as he could get on his face. “Don’t ever lose your friends, Mr. Potter.” Hermione and Ron exchanged confused looks. “Mr. Weasley, I remember your wand. Unicorn hair, correct?” Ron nodded and gave Harry a confused look. “In your third year. Pity you didn’t get a new wand in your first year. You’ll never achieve as good results with someone else’s wand. And Ms. Granger. I remember your wand very well.”

    “Mr. Ollivander, we have to find Harry’s aunt,” Hermione interrupted. “She got lost in the Floo Network.”

    “Ah, to business,” Mr. Ollivander said. He tapped his fingertips together for a moment, and then walked over to his desk. He opened up a desk drawer and took out a small pouch and a blank piece of parchment.

    “Ingenious,” Hermione whispered, walking over towards the map.

    “I hate when she doesn’t just explain things,” Ron muttered to Harry as the two boys walked over to the desk. Mr. Ollivander reached into the pouch and pulled out a handful of gold glitter, it seemed.

    “Petunia Dursley, please,” Mr. Ollivander said, and he released the glitter. It trickled slowly out of his hand, and then started to stream over the parchment in what seemed like many rivers of glitter. The dust turned into sparks of light, which danced across the parchment, illuminating shapes and lines on the parchment. The light shimmered for a moment, and then rushed together into a pool of light. In cursive writing, a golden, shimmering name appeared over the light: Petunia Dursley.

    “It’s like the Mar...”

    “Ssh,” Hermione shushed Ron before he gave away the Marauder’s Map. “This is a map of Diagon Alley, right?”

    “Right in one, Ms. Granger,” Mr. Ollivander said. “This only works in Diagon Alley, I’m afraid. We’ve tried over a larger area to find He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named but the spell failed. Doubtless he knows and found a counter to it. However, we can content ourselves in knowing that your aunt Petunia is nearby.” Harry looked at the map and gave a start of horror.

    “She’s in Knockturn Alley,” he said, his eyes meeting Ollivanders.

    “We must hurry,” he said. Harry saw him glance over at the lone wand on the purple cushion, but then turned away and walked quickly out of the door.

    Harry followed Mr. Ollivander as quickly as he could; for an old man, he certainly walked fast. Harry cast a nervous look at Hermione as they approached the rickety sign that hung above Knockturn Alley. The alley was dark, dank, as if the sunlight couldn’t penetrate the street. Mr. Ollivander snapped his fingers and an orb of light appeared above his head, illuminating the area.

    “Follow me children, and keep close. We can’t lose any of you.” Harry heard Ron gulp as he moved closer to the rest of them. They moved slowly, trying to avoid the many dark witches and wizards who were leering from the darkness. Hermione gasped as a wizard on the ground grabbed at her feet, but with one look from Mr. Ollivander, the wizard let go and crawled back into the shadows. The light posts on either side of the street were only dimly glowing, casting an eerie aura on the street rather than illuminating them. Harry got a shiver as he past Borgin and Burkes, a shop he was acquainted with in his second year. His eyes lingered on the shop until he walked into Ollivander, who stopped.

    “I believe we have found your aunt,” he said in an unusual voice. Harry looked around him and saw Aunt Petunia talking to a woman with unkept blonde hair and a wizard who was wearing a long, blood red cloak. His hands were covered in pure white, satin gloves. He turned and Harry felt a shiver shoot up his spine. The pupils of his eyes were red; they reminded Harry irresistably of Lord Voldemort. The red eyes made contact with Harry’s scar, and Harry felt an unusual feeling sift through his stomach.

    “If it isn’t Harry Potter himself,” the man said, his voice ladled with falsehood, of pretense. “I was just discussing you with your aunt.” Aunt Petunia then turned and saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, and she smiled.

    “Are you all right?” Harry asked, starting forward.

    “Of course. Why wouldn’t she be?” a voice said from behind the red eyed man. Harry felt anger grip his heart when he saw the familiar pointed face, the silver blond hair. It was Draco Malfoy. Harry looked up at the woman and knew it was Narcissa Malfoy, his mother. She looked frazzled, probably due to the fact that Lucius was now rotting in Azkaban, awaiting his trial.

    “What are you doing here?” Harry snapped, his eyes narrowing at the sight of his rival.

    “Well, these lovely folks found me in the fireplace,” Aunt Petunia said with a cheery smile. “They were good enough to promise to help find you when of course you showed up.” Aunt Petunia’s lips pursed when she saw Mr. Ollivander, who must have looked rather odd with his pale eyes and unusual aura about him.

    “Excuse me, madam, I am Mr. Ollivander. If I am much mistaken, I sold you your wand not too long ago. Unicorn hair, 8 inches, quite suited for charms, I believe. Not unlike your...um...well, shall we go?” Mr. Ollivander asked evasively.

    “Why must you go now, Ollivander? We were having such a nice chat, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having a spot of lunch with us?” the red pupiled man said slyly.

    “I must be off to work. Perhaps I’ll see you again, Mr. Potter,” Ollivander said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. Harry saw Mr. Ollivander give Hermione a significant look before heading out of the alley way. The way seemed brighter now that they had found Aunt Petunia.

    “So, shall we get some lunch with these fine folk?” Petunia asked, clapping her hands together.

    “Erm, sure,” Harry said awkwardly, not taking his eyes off of Draco.

    “Very well, I say we go to a shop down here that I’m rather fond of,” the man said, clapping his gloved hands together, making a muffled noise that was rather chilling.

    “How about we go to lunch somewhere in Diagon Alley?” Hermione cut in. The man turned and gave a chilling look towards Hermione. “The air is fresh, and quite frankly, the air here his stifling.”

    “As you wish,” he whispered, sending chills up Harry’s spine. Something about the man creeped him out and made him extremely nervous.

    “The Leaky Cauldron would be nice, they have some good chicken,” Hermione piped up.

    “Sounds delicious,” Ron said, eying the mysterious wizard suspiciously.

    “Delightful,” Aunt Petunia said. “So, Narcissa, shall we go?”

    “Yes, yes,” she said quickly. “Come Draco, and do not be rude in front of our guests. I want you on your best behavior.” Harry snickered as she hurried Draco out of Knockturn Alley, as the creepy man chatted up Aunt Petunia.

    “Stay clear of that man,” Hermione whispered to Ron and Harry.

    “You don’t need to tell me twice, that man gives me the creeps,” Harry shuddered. “Who is he?”

    “Paul LeMenteur,” Ron said. “Dad complains about him every day. He’s Lucius Malfoy’s lawyer, and he’s been telling everyone he can think of that he’s going to call them as witnesses. He’s being a right pain, but there’s nothing anyone can do about it, Lucius gets to have a lawyer.”

    “Still doesn’t explain the creepiness about him,” Harry said. “He’s probably a Death Eater.”

    “Whatever the case, we’re to steer clear of him as much as possible. The Leaky Cauldron will have plenty of people around, he can’t do anything sneaky,” Hermione said.

    “That was some quick thinking,” Ron said appraisingly, while Harry nodded. Hermione had definitely saved them from something worse.

    “Hurry up, we haven’t got all day,” Aunt Petunia called.

    “Be ready for the worst,” Harry muttered, his hand on his wand.

***

    “So he slides across the floor, knocking our house elf over while it was carrying a cauldron filled with soup, and the soup goes crashing all over the floor,” Narcissa said, while Petunia was in a fit of giggles. “I turned to scold the house elf, they were always botching our orders, but I noticed that Draco was covered in soup. He blamed the house elf, but I knew it was him. I couldn’t scold him, he looked so cute dripping with soup.” Harry heard Ron coughing into his cup in order to conceal his laughter. He also caught Draco squirming uncomfortably in his seat, which filled him with some satisfaction. He saw Hermione scowl at the mention of house elves, but Petunia was eating Narcissa’s story up.

    “Oh I know exactly what you mean! My Dudders is always in a heap of trouble at school, but it’s because he’s a boisterous boy, the teachers just don’t understand him.”

    “That’s exactly what I say about some of the Hogwarts teachers,” Narcissa said, taking a sip of tea and rolling her eyes. “They call my boy a bully. It’s ridiculous, he doesn’t know his own influence. Only Severus Snape knows my boy, I’m glad they haven’t sacked him from Hogwarts.” Aunt Petunia nodded fervently, although Harry had a shrewd suspicion that she didn’t know what Mrs. Malfoy was talking about.

    “Oh dear,” Aunt Petunia said midst her laughing. Harry merely contented himself with giving a commiserating look with Hermione and Ron, and desperate trying not to look at LeMenteur. The man was listening to the conversation, but he saw his eyes flicker towards his scar, and then back to the conversation.

    “So Mr. LeMenteur, what are you doing here in Diagon Alley?” Aunt Petunia asked sweetly as she sipped her drink.

    “Please, Mrs. Dursley, call me Paul. I don’t desire formality between friends,” he said with a smile as oily as Snape’s hair. “I’m the Malfoy family lawyer. As you probably know, they’ve the unfortunate need for a lawyer at the present.”

    “Oh yes, dreadful business,” Aunt Petunia said. “I never believed a word of it. Your family was spoken of very highly before this incident. It’s probably a smear campaign. Dreadful business those are.”

    “Yes, I quite agree,” LeMenteur responded haughtily. Narcissa looked slightly put back by the change in topic, while Draco kept uncharacteristically silent. Harry was wondering why he didn’t speak up, why he wasn’t defending his family or his father, or cursing mudbloods or something. Inaction was certainly not a Malfoy tactic. “Of course, I’ve hired a reporter to clear the air and put the truth out in the press.”

    “Oh? Who would that be?” Hermione asked curiously. LeMenteur’s red eyes turned towards Hermione.

    “A friend of yours, she’s covered some local events for quite some time. Rita Skeeter, you know of her?” Ron’s jaw dropped a mile when he heard the news. Harry felt heat running to his face. Rita Skeeter? Hermione looked absolutely furious.

    “I do know of her,” Hermione said, her voice trembling with anger.

    “She’s kept relatively quiet last year, probably because of the political climate. Now that You-Know-Who is supposedly back, the public is craving a fresh breath from all of the propaganda the Ministry spread. But she’s agreed to write some articles and cover the trial to make sure that everyone knows that Lucius Malfoy is not as guilty as the public makes him out to be.”

    “Well that’s great of her, is she charging a lot of money?” Aunt Petunia asked.

    “Quite a bit,” Narcissa sniffed. “Of course, our family can still afford some of the best. She had a high price, but of course, any price is worth clearing the name of Lucius. How anyone could think that he’s guilty of anything except being generous and benign is unfathomable.” Harry’s ears were ringing with disbelief. Was she kidding? Lucius Malfoy was one of the most evil men he had ever met, which was why he was in Voldemort’s inner circle. Was she covering because Harry was present? Or did she really believe that Lucius was innocent? Harry wanted to believe she was acting, but the emotion in her eyes was very clear. She was upset by these accusations against her family.

    “Well, it’s all moot, right? There won’t be a trial without a Minister of Magic,” Aunt Petunia said lightly. “Who knows when someone will step up and fill that position?”

    “There is a new Minister, actually,” LeMenteur said, his eyes narrowing again.

    “Really? Who?” Narcissa asked in disbelief.

    “Oh I don’t remember,” he said, although it was very clear that he was lying. “I only saw the headline, the name has slipped my mind.”

    “We’ll have to check,” Narcissa said, her eyes darting around. “Any news is good news at this point.”

    “Good idea. We must meet with Ms. Skeeter at some point in the day, so off we get,” LeMenteur said. He took off one of his silky white gloves, revealing a hand that was pearly white, almost too white for human skin. He mumbled something into Narcissa’s ear. Narcissa turned and looked confused for a moment.

    “What?”

    “I’ll tell you later,” he said lightly. She shrugged and put a hand on Draco’s shoulder.

    “Come Draco,” she said kindly. Malfoy got up from the table without saying a word and without looking at Harry, and followed them. LeMenteur walked by and clapped Ron on the cheek.

    “Hope you’re ready for the big news.” Ron jumped, startled by the touch of LeMenteur, and his eyes widened slightly when the man spoke to him.

    “What news?” he said quickly, placing a hand to where LeMenteur’s hand touched his skin. “What news are you talking about?”

    “You’ll see,” he said, his teeth showing in a grin that spoke more of malice than joy or happiness. He slipped the glove back on and turned his red eyes towards Harry. “Enjoy your lunch. Days like these, they are rare in times like ours.” He turned, his blood red cloak swishing behind him.

    “Why did he touch you,” Hermione said at once, inspecting Ron’s chin.

    “I don’t know,” he said, surprised by Hermione’s attention. “What news do you think he was talking about?”

    “I have no idea,” Harry said, his eyes lingering on LeMenteur’s. “Maybe we should check the Daily Prophet.”

    “Maybe,” Hermione said, her eyes lingering on Ron’s face.

    “It’s fine, nothing happened. His hand was a little clammy, but considering he’s a slimy git, I’m not surprised,” Ron said. Hermione still looked anxious, but she turned away.

    “I suppose you’re right,” she said. “I just don’t know. Anything he does, no matter how small, we should watch out for. The man is evil, and probably very powerful.”

    “We’ll be careful,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s go find a newspaper.”

    The three of them left the Leaky Cauldron and searched for a paper. Most of the news stands were sold out, but they managed to find one on the street, its front page facing up. Harry looked down on it and saw the headline:

        Percy Ignatius Weasley Sworn in as Minister of Magic

    “Oh no,” Hermione managed to utter.

    “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Harry said, his hand gripping Ron’s robes.

    “What are you guys talking about?” Ron asked, his eyes wandering down and finding the news article.

    “Holy...”

    Harry watched in horror as Ron passed out on the Diagon Alley street.