Кассандра Клэр - Draco Veritas

"WHAT? Dad!" Charlie dropped his fork. "You didn´t tell us that!"

Lupin spoke quietly, "Tell us what happened, Arthur."

Mr. Weasley sighed. "Apparently some sort of irregularity with the votes that elected me was discovered by a few of the Council members. So I´m out of office pending investigation. And I´m not allowed in the Ministry building, because my presence might compromise that investigation. They showed me out. It was humiliating."

Sirius glanced at Lupin. "I remember you telling me, Arthur, that you suspected some interference with the ballots during the election. I admit I thought you were being paranoid. I´m sorry."

Mr. Weasley waved a dismissive hand. "Water under the bridge," he said.

"The question is, what do we do now?"

"I think Remus and I had better go by the Ministry while we still can,"

Sirius said. "Although I´m afraid that if I catch sight of Lucius Malfoy, I won´t be able to restrain myself from wringing his scrawny neck."

"All that stuff he said about him being Harryś guardian — that wasn´t true, was it?" George interrupted unexpectedly. "I mean, heś a convict, he was declared insane, how could he possible be considered a fit guardian for anyone?"

"Well, the Manor and Malfoy Park are something of a special case where legality is concerned," Lupin said. "That area is, in essence, like a small kingdom or medieval fiefdom, in that Lucius exerts a near-total control over everything that happens within its environs. Itś a very old, familiar kind of magic, like house-elf magic, that has to do with blood ties to land and specific, localized kinds of charms. But yes, of course, those kind of ancient laws are an anachronism, not recognized by the Ministry."

"What Ministry?" Arthur said bitterly.

"Well, exactly," Lupin said. "Lucius has never bothered to attempt to implement most of the old laws of the Manor, at least not since Voldemortś time, as the Ministry would have certainly stopped him.

Generations of Malfoys have pretended those laws didn´t exist, and so they´ve remained technically on the books. And those laws, of course, don´t recognize the outside jurisdiction of the Ministry, so it hardly matters whether the Council ever declared Lucius to be insane. They could have declared him legally a rodent, it wouldn´t matter."

"I´m confused," said George. "Is he or isn´t he Harryś guardian?"

Lupin looked at Sirius, who shrugged. "In essence, it doesn´t matter,"

Sirius said. "That big speech and everything, that was just to shock and unsettle us. The pretense of legality buys him a tiny bit of time — maybe a day or two. Thatś all he wanted, obviously. The more time we wasted running around worrying about it, the better off he´d be. Itś a distraction game. Typical Lucius."

"So he hasn´t got a legal leg to stand on?" Charlie said, sounding relieved.

"That would depend," Hermione said suddenly. "On how corrupted the Ministry is. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-named was in power, he didn´t obey any laws. He didn´t have to. Itś quite possible the Ministry would back Lucius up on this, if they´ve all been corrupted."

Mr. Weasley looked at her with concern. "Hermione, love, I doubt things are quite that bad."

Hermione replied almost in a whisper, "I don´t know. I don´t trust anyone anymore." She glanced blindly at Mrs. Weasley. "Mrs. Weasley -

would it be all right if I went upstairs and lay down for a bit? I feel a little dizzy."

The older witch was all sympathy. "Of course, of course! You can use Ginnyś room."

"Thanks."

Hermione slipped away upstairs without glancing back; she knew perfectly well that everyone at the table was looking after her with concern. She was glad to get away. Ginnyś room was on the second floor, across from Fred and Georgeś. Hermione stopped on the second-floor landing for a moment, lost in thought. Then she continued up the stairs towards the attic where Ron slept, walking as quietly as she could.

Draco rose to his feet, all his laughter gone. "Father," he said, sounding surprised and a little awkward. "I hadn´t thought you´d come…"

"Didn´t you?" Lucius inquired lazily. He was dressed warmly against the chill of the night, in a heavy fur cloak, gloves, and even a fur hat. On someone else it would have looked ridiculous: Lucius managed to carry it off, but only just barely. "Did you think I was planning on leaving you up here forever?"

"No," Draco said. "I figured you´d send minions." He had put his composure back on like a cloak, after a moment of what had seemed like unguarded surprise. His gray eyes were half-lidded, his mouth curled into a narrow smile. "Not that I´m not glad to see you, Father."

Harry began to rise to his feet, but Draco stayed him with a silent whisper: Don´t. Stay where you are until I see what he wants.

Harry slid back down the wall. The runic band at his waist touched his bare skin as his shirt slid up, caught on the stone wall, and he flinched — it burned with cold fire. Inside him, the lion on its chain growled softly.

Lucius took a step forward. The tower door behind him remained propped open slightly — a maddening glimpse of freedom. As he came towards them he nudged at something on the ground — the discarded Passionate Trousers — with the toe of his boot. "Up here reading romance novels to each other?" he inquired brightly, bending to pick it up. "Odd behavior for boys, I´d say. Something you want to tell me, Draco?"

"Yes," Draco said evenly. "In that hat, you look like a pimp."

Lucius smiled thinly and straightened up. "Get up," he said, and it took the sudden tensing of Dracoś shoulders for Harry to realize that Lucius was, in fact, speaking to him. He got slowly to his feet, and as he did, Draco stood up as well, pushing Harry back as he did so — managing again, as he had done earlier, inside the Manor, to put himself between his father and Harry. Harry wished that he wouldn´t — he almost welcomed a chance for Lucius to strike at him. He was more than slightly curious about what would happen if Lucius tried.

"Months ago," Lucius said, his eyes on his son again, "You told me I would have to kill you if I intended to harm Harry Potter — is that still true?"

Draco said nothing.

"Never mind," said Lucius with a graceful shrug of fur-covered shoulders.

"I see that it is."

This time, Draco spoke, his voice toneless, "What do you want, Father?"

To Harryś great surprise, Luciusánswer to this question was clear and straightforward. It struck Harry as painfully as if Lucius had dropped a box of bricks on his chest. "That cup you took from the Stonehenge Museum," he said. "I want it. Give it to me or tell me where it is, and you walk free of this tower."

There was a silence. Draco swung around and stared at Harry, and in the other boyś anguished gaze, Harry saw one thing clearly — Draco had no more idea where the cup was than he did.

Never had the oddity of time travel been brought home to Ginny with quite such force before. This was the Draco she had known at age eleven, the one she had hated and been afraid of. She had remembered him as tall and gangly, towering over her, huge and terrifying. And here he was, but -

"You´re so tiny," she exclaimed, without thinking. "Look at you!"

A brick-red flush spread over the boyś face. "I am not tiny!" he snapped, drawing himself up to his full height — which would have been about elbow level on Ginny. "I´m a whole inch taller than Harry Potter!"

He glared at her. She couldn´t believe it. She was torn between panicking and wanting to laugh. He really was tiny — a fragile little small-boned child, with rather too much fair hair and a thin face dominated by enormous gray eyes. The sort of little boy whose cheeks got pinched by old women in grocery stores. This was the monster who had humiliated her at age eleven? Ginny felt ashamed of herself.