The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER THREE

Page count: 10

The Winchesters and Bobby arrived just as the group's conversation picked up, lingering at off to the side to give them space. They could hear every word, but the distance offered a sense of privacy.

"Do we know his identity?" Harry asked, flicking his wand at the restrained Death Eater. He added a few more binding spells, just in case the stunners wore off prematurely. Every individual reacted differently to magical restraints. Strength, magical core, and mental state were all factors that had to be taken into consideration. Extra caution was always warranted.

"Henry Patterson," Hermione said, voice clipped with focus. "Low-level Death Eater. He didn't appear on our radar because he's new. Intel suggests he's too young to have been active during the war. Though, well... Draco..."

"The Bouncing Ferret," Harry supplied, earning an instant smack on the back of the head.

"I thought we'd stopped the petty name-calling," Hermione scowled.

"He called me Potty-head last week!" he protested, shrugging innocently.

"When I see him, I'll have words with him too," she snapped.

The magical President flinched, shaking his head with amused resignation, and the Winchesters exchanged curious glances, silently noting his reaction.

"Draco saved our lives," Hermione continued, tone lightening. "He defected nine years ago. Life's too short for grudges. You'd know that better than anyone—you've died. Twice."

The Hunters froze. Their eyes widened in disbelief, glancing at each other, then back to the magical contingent, silently acknowledging they'd been out of the loop.

"You've died four times," Harry countered, smirking.

That earned a double-take.

"And Death won't let me forget it," Hermione huffed, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, he's obsessed with me."

"Likely won't be a problem once you stay dead," Harry said, amusement lacing his tone.

"You're one to talk, Mister 'The Boy Who Just Won't Die.'"

"Quoting Malfoy now?" he shot back, eyebrows raised.

She sniffed, chin lifted proudly. "Anyway, point is—he's too young to have been a Death Eater during the war. But given Draco was forced into it at sixteen, it's possible he's involved somehow."

"Blood status?" Kingsley probed.

"Half-blood," Hermione answered. "Honestly, I don't understand why a Half-blood would join in a crusade against Muggles and Muggleborns. Purebloods still want their utopia, sure—but Half-bloods would just be enslaved. It makes no sense."

"Why would they do that?" Bobby injected. All eyes turned to him.

"They're desperate," she explained, eyes narrowing. "Too many Pureblood families have seen the error of their ways. Those who haven't understood their ideal is impossible, so they stay quiet. Recruiting Half-bloods? That's reckless. But it works in our favour. Capture one, and you might flip their entire network—Half-bloods may betray the Purebloods, giving us intel on headquarters, recruits, plans... everything."

"GRANGER!"

Harry grumbled an insult under his breath. Kingsley chuckled.

"OUT HERE, DRACO!" Hermione shouted, voice sharp as a whip, eyes the same as she glanced at Harry in warning.

All eyes turned to see a tall man approaching—blonde hair slicked back, piercing ice-blue eyes, sharp features, and white robes flowing as he moved with purposeful strides.