Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows (Page 126-131)

about the Horcruxes, so you could just ask if he’d suddenly ordered any of them to guard anything without reason."
Harry frowned, mulling it over. Hermione had a tendency to always want to run to someone in authority, and she could never admit that the authorities might be wrong. Still, her idea could work, except…
"Moody’s too suspicious; he’d never leave it at that."
"He trusted Dumbledore, and I think he trusts you," Ginny said.
"All right. I’ll ask Moody if I can talk to Malfoy. That’s just the thought I want in my head as I try to go to sleep," Harry said sarcastically.
Ginny ruffled his hair affectionately. "Aww, it’s not easy to be the hero."
Harry scowled, making Ginny giggle.
The girls bade them goodnight and returned to their own room. It took Harry a long time to fall asleep, and when he did his dreams were marred with visions of werewolves, locked boxes and green smoke.
***
Harry’s heart pounded as he paced inside a small room off the main hallway in Grimmauld Place. Amazingly, Moody had agreed very easily to Harry’s request to question Malfoy. Harry’s expression must have shown his surprise, because the old Auror began to chuckle.
"I figured you were working with Dumbledore on something, and I reckon you’re going to carry on with it. If Dumbledore didn’t think it was something I needed to know, that’s good enough for me. Constant vigilance, Potter. The less people who know what you’re up to, the less chance there is for a leak," he said. "I gave my word to Dumbledore that I’d see this through. If that means helping you with whatever it is you’re doing, that’s just what I’m going to do."
Turning, he stomped out of the room to fetch Malfoy, his wooden leg thumping on the floor with each step.
Harry moved to the back of the room and took a seat in a darkened corner, hoping for the chance to observe Malfoy’s interaction with Moody before he was alerted to Harry’s presence. He was doubtful that Malfoy would cooperate, but if he had any information that could aid him in any way, Harry was determined to get it.
Hearing voices in the hallway, he ducked into the shadows and waited.
"Just because I am forced to survive in these less-than-stellar accommodations does not give you the right to barge into my room uninvited, Mr. Moody. Decent wizarding manners dictate the necessity of sending an owl to arrange an appointment. Despite your lack of breeding, I expect you to uphold these common niceties," Malfoy sneered as he entered the room, sat down on a stiff-backed chair and placed his feet on the matching footstool.
Moody followed closely behind wearing an amused expression. He sat in a chair opposite Malfoy and leaned towards him so that their noses were nearly touching. "Listen here, Darren, and listen good-"
"It’s Draco," Malfoy spat, affronted.
Moody continued as if there hadn’t been an interruption. "You’re not here as a houseguest, you’re here because if you were anywhere else, you’d be dead already."
"And without the information I can provide, you lot won’t be long behind me," Malfoy replied, although he had paled slightly.
Harry took a moment to take a good look at Malfoy’s appearance. He’d lost the dark circles beneath his eyes, and his skin no longer had an ashen pallor, but he still appeared pale and drawn. He spoke with all the haughtiness and bravado Harry had come to expect, but there was an air of brittleness beneath it that hadn’t been there in the past.
"We’ve been through all of this already and agreed to come to an arrangement that could be mutually beneficial," Moody said, sounding weary, as if he’d been over this same conversation many times already.
"That doesn’t mean you can barge into my chambers-"
"I knocked on your door, David," Moody said dryly. "I have a few questions that need answering."
"It’s Draco," Malfoy said through gritted teeth, "and when my mother hears about this, she won’t be pleased."
Moody nodded his head towards the door. "By all means, if you need your mummy present, go and fetch her."
Malfoy puffed out his chest indignantly. "I won’t be treated as a common house-elf, and I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs."
"And I won’t be treated as your nanny. Grow up, Dudley," Moody growled, his magical eye looking directly at Harry’s hiding spot and winking.
Harry nearly choked trying to hold back his laughter.
"It’s Draco," Malfoy spat, clenching his teeth. "What is it you need to know? I don’t have all morning."
"Sorry to interrupt your busy social schedule," Harry said, moving into the light and taking the chair next to Moody. He imitated Malfoy by placing his feet on the footstool and crossing his hands on his chest. "I hadn’t realized how fascinating the portraits were up on your wing. I assume that’s who’s keeping you busy since none of the living inhabitants in the house will actually speak to you. I’ll have to visit when I’m in need of stimulating conversation."
Malfoy’s expression rapidly turned from stunned to angry. "Potter," he sneered, glaring down his nose at Harry. "What are you doing here? I’m not staying if he’s in the room."
"He’s the one who has a few questions for you, and since it’s his house, he gets to decide where he goes," Moody replied indifferently.
"I have nothing to say to you," Malfoy said obstinately, looking away from Harry.
"All right," Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I believe you know how to find the front door. Be sure to take all your belongings as there are plenty of people waiting to use your room. Moody, would you mind asking Narcissa Malfoy to join me? I’ll see if she’s any more cooperative then her son. We’ll offer her the same deal."
"Stay away from my mother, Potter," Malfoy snarled, two bright pink spots appearing on his pale cheeks.
Harry gazed at him coldly. "If you won’t cooperate, Malfoy, then I need to find someone who will."
Malfoy clenched his fists tightly, a myriad of expressions crossing his face. "What is it you want to know? I would have thought the precious Chosen One would have better things to do. If you want me out of here so badly, why don’t you follow your destiny so the rest of us can all get on with our lives?" he sneered.
"That’s enough," Moody growled, pulling out his wand and pointing it at Malfoy.
"It’s all right, Moody," Harry said calmly. He knew Malfoy had the tendency to boast when he was angry; Harry was counting on that habit now. "That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Malfoy, with or without your help. I don’t care what happens to you anymore than you care what happens to me. But I think we both have other people living in this house that we do care about. Do you think you can control your childish outbursts for a few moments, or should I go ask your mother?"
Malfoy paled yet again at the reference to his mother. Still, his anger won out, and he sneered, "He’s going to cut you into little pieces and feed you to his snake."
Harry forced himself to keep his voice steady. "Perhaps, but if I can’t take him with me, your life isn’t worth dragon dung."
Malfoy’s anger appeared to swell, and for a moment, Harry was certain he would draw his wand and hex him. After a moment, however, he seemed to deflate and sank wearily back into his chair. "What do you need to know?" he asked tonelessly.
"I want to know if Voldemort," Harry ignored Malfoy’s hiss when he said the name, "has shown any particular care in guarding certain places recently — meaning in the past year. He would have asked for these places to be under surveillance, but he wouldn’t have given any reason why. Does this sound at all familiar?"
Malfoy’s eyes showed a spark of recognition although he tried to cover it. "Why is it important?" he asked.
Harry shrugged indifferently. "It might not be, but call me curious."
Some of Malfoy’s haughty bravado returned as he said dismissively, "I don’t think it could possibly be significant."
"What’s not significant?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowing, the hair on his arms suddenly standing on end.
"Whatever is being guarded isn’t important, or he would have other, more important people guarding it. People that matter," Malfoy replied.
"Like you?" Harry asked, rolling his eyes.
Malfoy flushed. "He gave me the greatest task of all, and I fulfilled it," he said pompously.
Reminded of Malfoy’s role in Dumbledore’s death, Harry felt his skin burn with indignation. "You didn’t; Snape did. In the end, you couldn’t do it. You’re not a killer, Malfoy. Someday you might even be proud of that."
"What do you know about it?" Malfoy asked, his eyes widening with alarm.
"I know plenty. I know you were lowering your wand when Snape and the others burst through that door. Professor Dumbledore offered you a chance, and you were going to take it," Harry said, shuddering as he remembered.
Malfoy narrowed his eyes shrewdly. "How do you-"
"Let’s get back on track here, boys. What do you know about whatever is being guarded, Draco?" Moody asked, using the correct name for the first time.
"I don’t know what or where it is, but he assigned Pettigrew, Crabbe, Goyle and Simmons each to do something and report directly to him. None of them is the brightest or most loyal of followers, so whatever it is can’t be very significant," Malfoy replied, shrugging.
Harry’s mind was racing. Wormtail was watching the Burrow, which of course meant watching him. That would leave the cup and the unknown Horcrux. So, what could the fourth person be watching? Assigning Death Eaters who weren’t particularly smart was exactly Voldemort’s style. They wouldn’t question why or look any deeper into what they were doing, and if the other Death Eaters had attitudes like Malfoy’s, they wouldn’t believe whatever was being done was significant.
Wormtail was Wormtail, and if Crabbe and Goyle were anything like their offspring, they wouldn’t be very bright. He didn’t know anything about Simmons, but imagined he would fall into the same category. Why four of them, though?
Of course! The locket. If Voldemort never knew that RAB had gone to the cave and stolen it, he wouldn’t have been aware that Harry and Dumbledore made it there, either. Dumbledore had said Lucius Malfoy told his master about the diary, and Harry imagined that Snape would have told Voldemort about the ring, but no one knew about the locket. He’d still have someone watching the cave. Their orders would be to report anything suspicious or any visitors immediately so Voldemort could descend upon the place himself.
This was a start. If they could find these people, they’d know they were in the right place.
"Does that mean anything to you, Potter?" Moody asked, watching Harry carefully.
"It might," Harry said absently. "Who really knows what Voldemort is thinking?"
Malfoy dropped his head in his hands, rubbing his forehead wearily. "Look, Potter, I don’t know if this Chosen One business is true or just more of your hype, and I don’t really care. The Malfoy name is as old and respected as any pureblood wizarding family today, and we are being hunted like animals. Neither my mother nor I deserve to live this way. If you’re going to try and end this madness, I’ll do what I can to help you. It doesn’t mean we’re friends, and it doesn’t mean I’ll want anything to do with you once this is all over. If you’re still around, that is."
"Fair enough," Harry said, nodding. "I’m certain I won’t want anything to do with you once it’s all over, either."
Turning his back on Malfoy and nodding slightly at Moody, Harry strode from the room with his head held high. He had a place to start.
***
Far from London, in a dark stone manor-house set apart from all others, the Dark Lord had summoned his minions. He sat behind a massive oak desk in a high-backed chair resembling a throne. His serpentine features studied the masked, robed figures standing before him, their heads bowed in submission. His long, thin fingers stroked his wand almost lovingly as his fierce red eyes bored into the group.
"Which of you can tell me where Potter and the blood traitor clan have gone?" Voldemort hissed softly. His voice was calm, yet still it caused a shudder to pass through most of the Death Eaters.
"Might I suggest," a smooth, oily voice volunteered from the back of the room, "that they’ve taken shelter inside the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix? As I’ve reported, the entire Weasley family is in it, and Potter is prone to protect them."
"Yes, Severus," Voldemort said, his eyes briefly flashing with an eerie red glow. "You’ve been quite helpful in supplying me with the names of those in this Order, but you haven’t been able to tell me where their headquarters is located."
Snape bowed even lower to the ground. "My humble apologies, Master, but you are aware of how the Fidelius Charm works. Without the Secret Keeper, the location cannot be revealed."
Voldemort’s irritation showed as he tightly wrapped his emaciated fingers around his wand. "And who would that Secret Keeper be?" he asked.
"As you know, after killing Albus Dumbledore, I am no longer privy to the happenings in the Order," Snape said silkily.
"Yes, we all know you were the one to kill Dumbledore, Snape," Bellatrix Lestrange sneered, unable to maintain her silence any longer. "You appear overly fond of reminding us. What he asked was who their new Secret Keeper is."
"Thank you, Bella," Voldemort hissed dangerously. "While I appreciate your loyalty, I do not appreciate your speaking out of turn."
Bellatrix’s eyes widened behind her mask, as she had finally realized she’d overstepped her bounds. "Of course, Master," she said, bowing her head. "My apologies."
"Do not let it happen again, Bella," he said calmly. As she took a step backwards to take her place in the line of Death Eaters, he raised his wand and hissed, "Crucio."
Bellatrix dropped to the floor, screaming and writhing in agony. The other Death Eaters kept their gazes focused straight ahead, never moving. After an inordinate amount of time, Voldemort lifted the curse and turned to address Snape once again, leaving Bellatrix whimpering on the ground. No one moved to assist her.
"You know these people better than the rest of us, Severus. Whom do you suggest they would have chosen as their Secret Keeper?" he asked.
Snape moved his finger across his chin slowly, deliberating. "My instincts would say either Minerva McGonagall or Alastor Moody, but there is always the enigma of Potter to consider," he said, his upper lip curling.
"What does Potter have to do with it?" Voldemort asked.
"If the brat has any say in the matter, he is most likely the Secret Keeper himself. He’s exceedingly arrogant, and his opinion of himself is exceptionally high. His foolish Gryffindor streak wouldn’t allow anyone else to be at risk, therefore, he’d take on the role himself," Snape replied, grimacing as if he had an unpleasant taste in his mouth.
Voldemort shook his head dismissively. "The Order would never allow a sixteen-year-old boy to be Secret Keeper."
"Ordinarily, I would agree with you, however all rules tend to be bent to Potter’s whim. Dumbledore himself entrusted the boy with far too much information," Snape said, clenching his fists.