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The Rising of the Stones	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 13237 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I am making no money from this story.

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Chapter Fifteen—Raid

            The next knock on his door woke Draco only out of the trance he’d fallen into over the report. He turned and looked at the clock. It was nearly noon, but Sunday, which should mean that he didn’t have to report to the Ministry.

            Then the knock sounded at the door again. It was more like a thud. Draco stood up and backed himself neatly into a corner, holding his wand, certain spells filling his mind that not even his parents knew he had studied.

            The thud didn’t repeat. Then again, it didn’t have to. Draco cocked his head, listening hard, fingers running up and down the haft of his wand.

            “I’m going to ask you to open to us, Malfoy,” said the voice of Ernest Gallagher, one of those men who had been Aurors longer than Draco was alive. “Because I know you’re in there and you’ve been a decent lot. But after that, I won’t ask you again.”

            No “Auror Malfoy.” Draco straightened his shoulders and moved away from the wall. The thud had been too heavy for one person alone. And he wouldn’t get away with cursing an Auror on a mission with the Memory Charm, the way he sometimes had when he was opposite a Muggle or a Dark wizard.

            He should have expected this, really, once he began to plot against de Berenzan. What he had to deal with was the necessary process of neat dancing and lying to get himself out of the corner.

            He opened the door and nodded to Auror Gallagher, then moved passively out of the way as six more Aurors dived in. de Berenzan was really taking no chances. “Good morning, Aurors,” he said, and held out his wand when Gallagher indicated he should. Gallagher cast the Binding Charm that would mean he couldn’t use it for any magic except a Lumos.

            “Sorry about this, Malfoy,” said Gallagher, under his breath, before he continued more loudly. “The Minister wants to see you. Step smart.”

            Draco nodded once and tucked his wand away. He noticed that not all the Aurors who had come with Gallagher followed them, though. Three of them stayed behind and were going through his books with more than a casual interest.

            “There’s a problem?” he asked mildly. “I’m entitled to know why my home should be searched.”

            “You know why,” snarled one of the younger Aurors, one distantly related to the Weasleys, whose first name Draco had never bothered to learn. “You’ve been collecting Dark Arts books you shouldn’t, Death Eater.”

            For a moment, Draco and Gallagher’s eyes met in an exquisitely shared moment of agony over the stupidity of the raw recruits. Then Gallagher shook his grey moustache and pushed the young Weasley with a shove of his hand in the middle of his book, making him stumble. “And if the Minister wanted us to keep quiet,” he growled, “you would have just given up the secret of the whole mission. Are you stupid?” He paused, then added, “No, you’re not. Just need some seasoning. Tell you what, Yates, I’ll make sure that you get a chance to exercise your nerve and daring. I hear Azkaban is marginally less cold than normal, this time of year.”

            The Weasley’s face turned as red as the hair he didn’t have, and he started to stammer apologies. Draco just fixed his gaze in the middle of Gallagher’s back, where he would push if he wanted to make the old Auror stumble, and walked on.

            Gallagher had told him a lot more in those few sentences than any blurted admission could have—and without the rest of the Aurors knowing.

            They don’t have to keep silent. And it’s the Minister who sent them, not the Wizengamot or the rest of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just de Berenzan. He might want to keep this discreet, but that’s not the same as absolutely quiet.

            With just that knowledge, Draco had his war strategy already formulated.

*

            “Auror Malfoy! What are you doing here?”

            Draco smiled a little. It made sense that they would run into Rose Sheldon as they paraded along the corridors of the Auror Department, heading straight for de Berenzan’s office. She would be working weekends as usual, trying to make enough legitimate money to feed at least part of her potion habit.

            “A little misunderstanding between the Minister and myself,” he said, and nodded to her, aware that Gallagher had stopped on purpose so that he could. But the other Aurors looked confused, and they couldn’t pause too long. “I promise I shouldn’t be late for the appointment you and I have, though.” He nodded significantly to her.

            Sheldon managed to keep her lips from forming the words “What appointment?” too obviously. She gave him a dubious look, but said, “Of course,” and stood out of the way as Draco’s escort closed in around him again.

            The brief encounter satisfied Draco. Someone beyond the Aurors and de Berenzan would know where he’d last been seen if there was a problem. If de Berenzan had intended to disappear him by sending out Aurors on a Sunday with a formidable accusation, then he really shouldn’t have sent Gallagher, or allowed Draco to speak to anyone.

            Soon enough, they halted in front of de Berenzan’s office door, and he barked the order to come at once when Gallagher asked for permission. When Draco stepped inside, he saw de Berenzan on his feet and locking eyes with him.

            The Minister was smiling. But he lost the smile when Draco ambled in, looked around to make sure everything was still in the proper place, and then focused some of his polite, patient attention on de Berenzan.

            “I wouldn’t have objected to an invitation,” Draco said. “There was no need for formalities, you know, Minister.”

            For a moment, he thought de Berenzan’s self-control would crack. But he was too good for that. He motioned the idiots out of the office. Gallagher took up a pose along the far wall that would have done credit to a statue. Draco stood looking placidly at de Berenzan, and he finally shook his head and whispered, “Where’s Potter?”

            From the corner of his eye, Draco saw the start Gallagher didn’t give.

            “I don’t know,” Draco said at once, and began to play his role to the hilt. “I confronted him, and I know I drove him away from one of his sanctuaries. But he can use magic that isn’t wand magic, Minister. It confuses me.”

            The Minister’s hands tightened at once on the edge of his desk, and he gave Draco the kind of stare Draco had learned to cherish. It said he was off-balance and not sure what to believe anymore, but he might grasp what Draco was offering because it seemed to confirm his worst fears.

            And any confirmation is better than none, Draco thought smugly, as he waited for de Berenzan to come to his senses.

            “What do you mean by magic that isn’t wand magic?” de Berenzan finally whispered.

            “He can vanish into the stone instead of Apparating,” Draco said promptly. “I’ve been doing a bit of research, and there’s no spell like that. Not that he appears to use a wand. I wanted to know, Minister, if you knew what happened to his holly wand. Did he leave it behind when he fled? That would suggest strongly that he’s into Dark Arts.”

            “Why?”

            The Minister sounded as if he didn’t know what to believe or hope for. Draco stepped nearer and lowered his voice, making de Berenzan almost sway towards him. “Because if your personality changes, then your connection with your wand changes as well. Believe me, Minister, I studied wandlore after the—unfortunate occurrences I was involved with during the war. The wand chooses the wizard. But what happens if the wizard becomes substantially different than the one the wand chose?”

            de Berenzan seemed to consider that possibility. Draco waited patiently. He had other tricks waiting if this one didn’t work.

            “This research into wandlore you conducted,” de Berenzan said finally. “It wouldn’t include Dark Arts books, would it?”

            “Any forbidden aspects I chose to pursue were done under supervision,” said Draco firmly. “It was books from the Ministry library that are approved for trainee Aurors to peruse, sir. And I assure you, I have no Dark Arts books in my home.” He could let his voice rise to genuine indignation on those last words.

            The very idea. Only naïve fools like Potter kept their Dark Arts books in their house.

            “It would be easier if you had,” said de Berenzan unexpectedly, and moved back behind his desk, shaking his head as he did so. “That was the excuse I used to bring you here to me.”

            Draco maintained his expression of calm inquiry with an effort. “And so many people know the specific accusation as to render the lack of proof useless?” What would happen if you didn’t find me amenable to helping you?

            “Don’t be silly,” said de Berenzan. “My Aurors will keep quiet.” There was a slight emphasis on “my” that Draco didn’t like, and a second later, he knew he’d been right to distrust that particular tone. “It’s time for you to prove you’re one of my Aurors, Malfoy.”

            “Of course I serve the Ministry.”

            “Word-tricks like that won’t get you away from answering the question. Do you serve me, Malfoy? Are you loyal to me?”

            “I would be blindly loyal,” said Draco. He might have been forced into a corner he didn’t like, but he wasn’t beaten yet. “I need to know what terms loyalty to you entails, Minister.”

            Unexpectedly, de Berenzan smiled and nodded. “You know what would please me, Malfoy,” he said. “That’s a good sign.” He tapped his fingers on his desk, and then added, “I don’t want blind loyalty, either.”

            Gallagher very carefully didn’t roll his eyes up. There was nothing careful about the way Draco didn’t turn to look at him, though. “What do you want then, Minister?” Draco asked, and awaited the clarification as de Berenzan fiddled with some papers on his desk in a way that suggested he didn’t know, either.

            And then he seemed to. He looked at Draco, and his body relaxed as he replied, “Thinking, questioning loyalty to me. Agreement that I am the one best suited to direct the Ministry.”

            “Who would oppose that? Not the people who elected you,” Draco said, as if he believed that, as if he would abide by that supposed will of the people if it became necessary for him to do otherwise. “It must be enemies inside the Ministry itself?”

            He let his voice rise a little, and de Berenzan nodded to him instead of bridling at the question, which was all to the good, Draco thought. “Some of the Unspeakables are acting against me most, well, unspeakably in refusing me access to Potter’s records and some of the things they know about him. And there are Aurors who don’t do what I tell them. And some others who are concealing evidence about Potter. Either because they know him and feel a personal friendship, or because they dislike me.” He looked at Draco pointedly.

            Draco smiled at him and said lightly, “I don’t think it’s a secret that you and I have largely not got along with each other, Minister, but that’s a long way from saying I would allow my personal feelings to stand in the way of doing my duty.”

            “Don’t speak to me of duty,” said the Minister. “You don’t know what it is.”

            Flying into a rage would do no one any good, least of all himself and Potter. Draco simply inclined his head and murmured, “Perhaps we could say that we have different definitions of it, Minister? You and I, I mean. I am willing to listen as you explain your definition. I would like to understand it.”

            “I should not need to explain it to anyone who shares it.”

            Draco only remained blank-faced, looking at him. He thought it was the safest tactic right now. de Berenzan was in the mood to twist any words Draco spoke.

            Finally, de Berenzan snorted and looked aside. “Very well,” he said. “Duty means serving the vision of what the wizarding world needs. The greater good of the wizarding world, if you want to put it in those terms.”

            I don’t, but it doesn’t surprise me that you would. “All right,” said Draco. “And could you tell me what a particular Auror case might have to do with it?”

            “More than that,” said de Berenzan, “I can tell you what the pursuit of Potter has to do with it. Potter has a lot of power, see? We can’t let him believe the wrong things, or proclaim the wrong things. We have a duty to capture him as soon as possible, so that he doesn’t confuse other people.”

            Confuse them with the truth. But Draco only nodded as if he understood, and really, he did. He thought he and de Berenzan had the same definition of power. What they disagreed on was whose hands the power should rest in. “I understand, Minister. In the meantime, might I recommend something?”

            “What?” de Berenzan demanded.

            “You should, perhaps, refrain from showing any anxiety to the public about Potter’s defection.” Draco measured his words, as though they were pearls spilling from a trowel to land in front of the Minister. “Certain things Potter said to me when I battled him indicate that he’s running scared. He must have disappeared at least partially because he had no faith in the power you credit him with.”

            “He has no plans to make announcements to the public?”

            Of course he does, at the previously scheduled time. It was a particular pleasure for Draco to smile and lie in a dulcet voice, “Of course not. I don’t think he ever did. He regards the thought with horror. He’s afraid of influencing people to follow him for all sorts of reasons. What would happen to them if he was wrong. What would happen to him.” He paused, and then added, to drive the point home, “He’s not a leader like you, sir. That might be part of the reason he disappeared in the first place. He came up with this new magic that’s not wand magic, and what does he do with it? Probably start fearing that he’s going to hurt people with it, or something.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Lots of people think of Potter as the paradigm of goodness, but he has no faith in that goodness himself.”

            “What do you think Potter’s birth records say, Auror Malfoy?”

            The combination of the formal tone and the question was dangerous, dangerous. But Draco could shrug and answer, relying on the deception he’d already built up. “Probably that he has some magical creature blood no one knew about. Maybe from his mother? She was a powerful witch. She might not have been just Muggleborn.”

            There’s the twitch. As usual, de Berenzan was sensitive to what other people said about Muggleborns, while not having the power to keep himself from caring about what they thought. But he also couldn’t contend against what might seem a valid reason.

            Not without interrupting the fragile “trust” he was building with Draco, and revealing that something far different occupied Potter’s birth records. Draco waited, and smiled, and finally de Berenzan struggled through what he would have said and nodded sharply.

            “I think we can work together, Malfoy,” he said, while his wrists and silences and all the pauses said something far different. “I hope that you won’t hold—anything against me I might have had to do in the past.”

            Draco widened his eyes. “Why would I? I grew up with political power, Minister. I might not have any interest in the office myself, but I know that the Minister has to do a lot of things that are in the interest of the general good but might not be able to respond to the concerns of one individual.”

            He watched with pleasure as de Berenzan twisted on that hook for a while before he leaned back and added, “What did you want me to do next in the hunt for Potter, Minister?”

            He thought de Berenzan might actually announce he was taking Draco off the case, but instead, after a long moment when he suspected de Berenzan was considering that, the man brought his head down sharply and muttered, “I suppose it would upset you to know that I’m unsure what to do next as regards Potter.”

            “Not upset me, Minister. Far from it.” Please me greatly, amuse me, all of those, yes, but not as much as you think.

            de Berenzan gave him another one of those looks that was hopeful and disgusted with itself for being so. “Then you should know I don’t know how to corner him when he has magic that’s not wand magic, which might be—creature magic.”

            So unwilling to admit the truth. Draco spent a moment idling with the speculation about what would make de Berenzan trust him with that particular secret, and then gave up on it when he saw the increasingly narrower gaze he was receiving. He sat up and said with more respect than he’d been able to force into his voice so far, “Well, Minister, I think you should know that I have some books at my home that give advice on trap rituals. But I would need to reread them. It’s been years since I possessed the details to give you an immediate answer.”

            de Berenzan’s mouth tightened in displeasure, but he gave a sharp nod. “Good. Well…I suppose I’ll let you go and read, Auror Malfoy. I’m glad that we had this talk so you could understand my definition of duty and loyalty.”

            Not even his father could have found anything to fault in the bow he gave the Minister, Draco thought, and meanwhile his belly ached with laughter and contempt. Did he think it would escape my notice that we only talked about his definitions, not mine?

            No. Probably not. de Berenzan remained as wary of Draco as he did of Potter, or only a little less.

            But because of Draco’s cleverness, he and Potter and their allies had a chance to decide what would happen next, and blind the Minister for at least a little while longer.

            I’ll tell Potter about this. I think he should know.

            And if Draco daydreamed for a bit about Potter congratulating him and listening with an open mouth as he recounted his conversation with the Minister…everyone was allowed a bit of harmless dreaming, after all.

*

            moon: Thank you!
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The Rising of the Stones