Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived

Chapter Eighteen - Evil Knows No Bounds

Chapter Eighteen: Evil Knows No Bounds

For the second time in his life, Harry found himself tumbling out of a fireplace, his glasses broken, with no idea where he was. This time, he had company. He was pretty sure that this wasn’t an improvement over the last time.

“Stand up,” the voice hissed. “This way. Quickly.”

Harry scrambled to his feet. He took a second to repair his glasses, which was extremely difficult in the darkness, and was rewarded with a sharp nudge from the stranger.

“Hurry up.”

Harry reached his arm forward in a fruitless attempt to protect himself from walking headfirst into a wall, or worse. He hand brushed the back of the stranger’s robes.

“Don’t touch me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Harry said crossly. “I can’t see a thing in here. Where are we? What happened to the others?”

“We’re below Knockturn Alley. The others are waiting for you. That’s all I can tell you for now. Stop talking.”

Harry squinted into the darkness. The stranger seemed to have no trouble traversing the windy path they were taking. Either the stranger had spent countless hours walking these paths in total darkness, or, he had something aiding him in his journey. Harry thought about the options. There was only one person who fit in both categories. Someone who had spent time in Knockturn Alley and had a certain device that allowed him to see well in the pitch black of the underground tunnel.

“Malfoy,” Harry spat.

“Potter,” Draco acknowledged. He reached out to Harry, taking hold of his wrist and sharing the light of the Hand of Glory

“What have you done with my wife?” Instantly Harry regretted those words.

“You married the blood traitor? Interesting. What about Weaselby and the Mudblood, did they get married too?”

“No,” Harry snarled. “Where are they?” He was taken aback by Draco’s tone. He didn’t sound as cocky as he usually did.

“It’s not too far ahead.”

“Are they hurt?” Harry asked, his anger leaving him as dread flooded through his veins and filled his heart.

“No,” Draco replied hesitantly, causing the fear in Harry’s heart to double.

“What happened?” Harry cried.

“The looney one gave me trouble,” Draco admitted. “I had to hex her to get her into the tunnel.” He started at Harry’s murderous look. “It was the only way to prevent…” Draco stopped, having said too much already.

“You…you’re the informant. Aren’t you?” Harry blurted incredulously. “You were passing information to the Order? You warned Professor Lupin about an attack today. Wait a minute. How do I know you’re not leading me into an ambush?”

“Trust, Potter,” Draco drawled, sounding more like his usual self. “You need to learn to trust me.”

“Why should I?” Harry snapped.

Harry’s question lingered in the air between them, the intended insult clear as day. Draco dropped his head, mumbling incoherently for a moment before raising his head to glare at Harry.

“Snape died to protect me,” Draco observed sadly. “Isn’t that proof enough for you?”

“Snape killed Dumbledore,” Harry objected loudly. “Why should I care that he died to protect you? You both wear the mark of evil.”