Shadows of Redemption

Chapter 14: Whispers of Defiance

Harriet's POV

Draco's mother had given us a gift, though she probably didn't even realize it: her support. Knowing that Narcissa Malfoy was willing to protect her son at any cost gave me a small measure of hope. It was a reminder that not everyone in this war was entirely lost to the darkness.

I watched Draco carefully as he paced the room, his expression a mix of anxiety and determination. His mother's words had shaken him, but they had also seemed to ignite something in him-a spark that I could only hope would keep us both going.

"We need to move fast," he muttered, as if speaking to himself. "If they're suspicious, then our time is running out." He paused, turning to me, and I saw the resolve harden in his eyes. "We have to start contacting your friends."

My heart skipped a beat. The thought of reaching out to Ron and Hermione was like a lifeline, something I desperately clung to. But how? I couldn't write a letter or send a message in this form, and we couldn't risk using conventional means like owls. We needed something safe, something secret.

Draco seemed to understand my worry. "I think I have an idea," he said, his voice low. "There's an old family artifact in the attic. It's a communication mirror-a set of them, actually. My ancestors used them to send messages in secret, but they've been gathering dust for years. If they still work, we might be able to use one to contact your friends."

Hope flared in my chest. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try. I let out an eager purr, and Draco's lips curved into a small, almost relieved smile. "I'll take that as a yes," he said. "But getting to the attic without raising suspicion won't be easy. We'll have to be careful."

He was right. The Manor was crawling with Death Eaters, and every shadow felt like a potential threat. But we had to take the risk. We had to keep moving forward.

Draco's POV

The attic of Malfoy Manor was not a place I frequented, and for good reason. It was filled with relics of the past-strange, magical artifacts that carried the weight of centuries of Malfoy history. But now, it was our only hope.

Harriet padded quietly beside me as we slipped out of the guest room. The halls were eerily silent, but the tension never left my body. My wand was clutched tightly in my hand, ready for any sudden threat. We moved slowly, every creak of the floorboards making my heart pound.

We reached the staircase leading to the attic, and I hesitated. If anyone caught us up there, it would be nearly impossible to explain away. Harriet's green eyes met mine, and the silent encouragement in her gaze steadied me. We had to do this.

I carefully opened the door and slipped inside, Harriet following close behind. The attic was dim and dusty, filled with trunks, old tapestries, and objects shrouded in cobwebs. I shivered as we stepped inside, the weight of history pressing down on us.

"Alright," I whispered, trying to ignore the way my voice echoed in the empty space. "The mirrors should be in one of these trunks."

We searched quietly, Harriet sniffing around while I opened trunk after trunk, my hands growing more desperate with each passing minute. Finally, I found it: a pair of ornate mirrors, their silver frames engraved with runes that glinted in the low light.

"Here," I said, holding one of the mirrors up. "If these still work, we should be able to connect with your friends. But I'll need to use one, and you'll have to guide me. I don't know how to contact Granger or Weasley without you."

Harriet nodded, or did the closest thing to a nod that a Kneazle could manage. I took a steadying breath and set the mirrors down on an old table, brushing away the dust. The runes around the frame glowed softly, and I felt a thrill of hope.

"Alright," I murmured, lifting the mirror and focusing on what little I knew of Hermione and Ron. "Let's see if this works."

I tapped the mirror with my wand, whispering an old activation spell. The glass shimmered, rippling like water, and my heart leapt when an image began to form. It was blurry at first, but then I saw a familiar face: Hermione Granger, her hair wild and her eyes wide with surprise.

"Draco Malfoy?" she said, her voice sharp with disbelief. "What on earth-"

"Hermione," I interrupted, my voice urgent. "Please, listen. I don't have much time, and this is important."

Her eyes narrowed, but I saw the calculation behind them. She was wary, but she was also listening. Behind her, Ron appeared, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "What's he doing?" Ron demanded. "Hermione, don't trust him-"

"Wait!" I said, my voice cracking. "I'm not doing this for me. It's Harriet. She's in trouble."

Hermione's eyes widened, and all traces of suspicion vanished. "Harriet?" she whispered. "What do you mean? Where is she?"

I glanced at Harriet, who was perched on the edge of the table, her green eyes fierce and unyielding. "She's here," I said, my voice softer. "But... she's been trapped in her Animagus form. We need your help to reverse it, and there's more-Hogwarts is in danger. The Death Eaters are planning something, and they're using me to make it happen."

Hermione and Ron exchanged a horrified look, and I felt the weight of the truth settle between us. We had crossed a line, forged an alliance that none of us had ever imagined. But it was real, and it was our only chance.

"Tell us everything," Hermione said, her voice steady and determined. "We'll do whatever we can to help."

I nodded, my heart pounding. This was it. Our fragile plan was in motion, and there was no turning back.