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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 51
- 52
- 53
52. Returning to Spinner's End
It was Tuesday morning before Rita Skeeter managed to make her way back to civilisation. She was very tired; she had spent a lot of time in her animagus form, and that was never good. She had been rather concerned when the three escapees had so gleefully removed their robes; at least the woman had the modesty to turn from the men while she found some alternative clothing, but of course she didn't know that Skeeter was there so didn't bother to cover up. While, as a gossip columnist, Rita was insatiably curious, there were things that she desperately did not want to know, so she screwed her eyes tight shut, which nearly got her burnt with the Auror's robes when the three made a bonfire out of them, Fortunately, a beetle scuttling up the chimney had not attracted any notice from the three rather tired escaped magicals. Exiting the top of the floo was quite strange – it was protected by charms that made her feel quite giddy, and she had to spend a few minutes perched in a nearby tree. A few rather tense minutes; there were birds about, and it would be very ignominious to survive three rather nasty felons to end up being dinner for a common sparrow.
But now she had made it home, had a long shower, and sat down with a tumbler of firewhiskey. It was time to think about how best to use the information she had.
She weighed her options carefully. She hadn't really expected the prisoners to escape; that was very unfortunate. Especially as it might well earn her her own stay in Azkaban. Clearly there was more going on here than she had bargained for.
There were three things she could do: she could go back to the people who had engaged her, she could go to the Ministry, or she could find some other patron to look after her.
Going to her employers really wasn't much of an option. The pay was good, but she had no reason to trust them to keep her out of Azkaban; after all, it would be cheaper than paying her.
The Ministry wasn't really a better option; there was no reason for them to protect her, and she would make such a convenient scapegoat. She wasn't about to trust Shacklebolt any more than the previous Ministers; she'd seen so much of politicians that her cynicism about them was ingrained.
No, she needed someone else. Someone influential, and wealthy, and devious. And when you laid it out like that, there really was only one person who fitted the bill …

The escapees spent Monday and most of Tuesday at Goyle Manor. As they had been told, there was no longer an Auror watch; but even so, Graham Goyle warned them that he still got visited by the Aurors sporadically, just to check that his one remaining house elf was looking after him properly. But they didn't have much choice; their leader insisted that they contact their inside contact at the Ministry, so an owl was dispatched on Monday afternoon; happily, the reply arrived on Tuesday afternoon, containing further details of the ritual that they were going to perform, together with the location of one dark artefact that they had not already located, a silver circlet that legend said belonged to the goddess Circe. Of course, they scoffed at the idea; nonetheless, the circlet was known to have important uses in magic of the mind, particularly in localising and focusing memory spells; so was perfect for their needs.
"Excellent!" their leader announced. "Circe's circlet has been located; it remains hidden under the flagstones at the Carrow's house. And the best thing is, it is covered by a dark concealment charm that has completely evaded the Aurors. The place has been thoroughly searched, and they didn't find it. So if we remove it, no-one will know. We can make it look like the place is our hideout, and no-one will know why we were there."
"So," Barnes asked, "when can we perform the ritual?"
"It will have to be on a new moon," came the answer, as Rookwood consulted both the instructions and then an almanac. "It's full moon on Thursday, so we must have just over a fortnight – yes, new moon is the twenty-third."
"Then we have to wait till the full moon to complete the ritual; so that will be on the eighth of August."
"So are we going to fetch the circlet then?" Barnes asked.
"Not so fast. We want to do it under cover of darkness; the moon is nearly full, so we will have to wait for it to set."
"When is that?"
Rookwood consulted the almanac again. "Not till just after four in the morning. And the sun rises at four fifty-three. So we won't have much time. I suggest we get some sleep until then."

The moon had just set when the three magicals Apparated to the Carrow's modest house hidden in a dell outside a small village in Yorkshire. It took them a few minutes to confirm that there were no wards or nasty traps laid for them before they entered the cottage. Rookwood and Barnes together cast the counterspell that revealed the hidden space under the flagstone; and twenty minutes later they had the small casket that contained their prize. As planned, they were careful to make the place look lived in; that way, if there was any ward set that they hadn't found, it would look like they had come for refuge. They were back at Goyle Manor well before sunrise.
When they opened the casket, they found the circlet nestled in straw; Rookwood reached out to touch it, but was swatted before he could.
"We'd better check for curses, don't you think?" their leader asked him, voice dripping with fake sweetness.
Rookwood gulped, and did so. His face went white; if he had managed to touch the circlet, he would probably not have lived long enough to do anything else.
"Does anyone know how to remove the disintegration curse when bound to an object?"
None of the four of them did; and any of Goyle's books that might have helped had been confiscated.
They mulled over the situation for half an hour, until Rookwood suggested one place they could look, one place which the Aurors had never visited.
Their leader smiled at this news. "This one will have to wait till the weekend. But we might take up residence there, as well. Mr Goyle is probably sick of our company by now."
Goyle protested that this was not the case; but in his heart of hearts, he knew perfectly well that she was quite right. The sooner they were out of his house, the sooner he could breathe easy. He had no illusions about the Ministry: if they were caught there, he would be 'harbouring known fugitives'; and the stay in Azkaban he would earn for it would kill him.

Rita Skeeter Flooed to Malfoy Manor to discuss the events of the weekend. Lucius met her with a cautious courtesy, and took her into his study. Two hours later, he sat in his chair, flummoxed.
"There is something going on here," he said. "You say that you don't even know who your Ministry sponsor is?"
"No, he – or she – contacts me through the cleaning staff."
Lucius sat back, closing his eyes for a moment, running through people in his head. Suddenly, he snapped back to attention. That had to be it. He knew who had escaped, of course; the Ministry had alerted him straight away. For that, at least, he was grateful; forewarned is forearmed, after all. Though he rather suspected that the Ministry was doing it for more prosaic motives: they would be coming to him to help with damage limitation sometime in the future. It was a bit galling to him that that was what they valued him for; on the other hand, it was good to be valued at all. And, he had to admit, he was pretty good at it; and he could hardly complain, having been given free rein with that bastard Dursley.
He came back to the present. He could pretty much piece together what was being plotted, and who was plotting it. It boiled down to a boring old grab for power. But then, he mused, in their place, he would probably be doing much the same thing. A nasty grin found its way onto his face: he wasn't in their place, and that made all the difference.
"Miss Skeeter," he said, "I'm pretty sure I know who your employer is. And I think I can see what he's up to. Here's how I think you should play it …"

The week was flashing by for the eighth year students. They were being worked hard right from the very beginning in all their classes, and by Thursday they were already establishing a rhythm of classes, tests, homework, studying, eating, socialising and sleeping. There had been no further incidents of note; but the students did notice that there were more Aurors around; 'just to introduce ourselves and let you know that the Ministry is very concerned about your safety', they were told. None of them really believed it; but there wasn't any other obvious reason for the Auror presence. Not that that stopped the rumour mill from working overtime. The most popular rumour was that, well, they were all young adults, and virile, and all cooped up together; so perhaps their chaperones needed backup …
Some students approached Ron and Harry, thinking that with their connections to the Ministry, they would have some idea, what with Ron's father being Deputy Minister and Harry being a personal friend of the Minister himself. But neither of them had any clue what was going on; and they staunchly refused to speculate, so the gossip mongers had to go elsewhere. Blaise, who loved to know everything and was being driven mad by the lack of information, even sent an owl off to Rita Skeeter, wondering if she knew anything; she replied that she didn't, but promised to let her readers know as soon as she did.
"She knows something," he said to himself as he read the letter, "I'm sure of it."
"What's that, Blaise?" Pansy demanded. But he wouldn't tell her. This was his contact, he didn't want to share.
The Muggle Studies class on Thursday was given over to researching their projects; most of the students were ecstatic about this, as it meant a class for which there was no immediate assessment and no homework, already a rarity. But Draco and Harry learnt that in fact Arthur's generosity had an ulterior motive: he asked the two of them to meet with him in the office he had been given. When they got there, his face was grave.
He invited them in to what had been Charity Burbage's office. The decoration was largely untouched; there were old Muggle books and equipment around the room, and the desk was still littered with papers in her writing even after all this time. Harry shuddered at the thought that they were probably the first people in the office since Charity had disappeared during the War. Muggle Studies had not been offered under Professor Snape's headmastership, after all.
Arthur transfigured the chairs from the girly chintz that Burbage had chosen into stuffed leather armchairs, and waved them to take one each.
"Bad news, I'm afraid," he said, as he took a seat himself. "There's no nice way to say this: there was a break-out from Azkaban sometime early Monday morning. Three prisoners have escaped. As you can imagine, it's caused a terrible flap at the Ministry."
"Who escaped?" Harry asked warily.
"Yaxley?" Draco asked, his face pale.
"No, oddly enough," Arthur informed them, "Yaxley is dead, killed by the escapees."
Draco Malfoy let out a low whistle. Harry looked at him aghast; who knew that the consummate pureblood knew how to whistle?
"Indications are that they killed him in cold blood. There was no struggle; he was cut down by the Avada Kedavra curse. There was nothing to indicate that his cell door had been opened; they simply killed him without going into the cell at all. In some sense, it's a pity Yaxley didn't escape; we have a fair idea what he would have got up to. The three escapees who did escape must have some sort of plan, but we have no idea what it might be, and very little idea who, if anyone, is helping them. The escapees were two Death Eaters: Barnes and Rookwood; and one other prisoner so beloved by all of us: Dolores Umbridge."
Both boys' faces went white. This probably went some way to explaining the extra Aurors, then.
"Umbridge?" Harry squeaked, as his gaze went involuntarily to his hand, where the words I must not tell lies could still be seen faintly, his own personal permanent reminder of the witch's cruelty. "Why her?"
"Good question. First indications are that Umbridge was coerced; her cell looks like there was a struggle. It may be that they wanted to use some connections of hers; believe it or not, there are still quite a few witches and wizards who think she was hard done by at her trial."
Harry snorted. As far as he was concerned, the old witch deserved everything she got and more.
"Quite," Arthur said, easily guessing exactly what Harry meant. "In the old days, she'd have been kissed and that would have been that. But we have the Potter Code; and on the whole we all agree we need it desperately, even if people like her can play the system. There's no doubt in the Ministry's mind that she's rotten to the core, of course; I actually received a petition when she was sentenced asking for her to receive the Dementor's Kiss, signed by practically everyone who worked for her. Personally I have some sympathy with the idea, but of course we can't break the law! And we have to keep an open mind officially. As to what happened, from what we can gather, Crockford was put on Auror duty at Azkaban, and somehow he and a junior Auror were overpowered."
Harry's face went from frightened white to enraged red in seconds.
"Who thought that was a good idea?" he demanded.
"Well, it seems that Gawain Robarts gave orders that were tampered with. We found the parchment with his order on it; he originally wrote that Crockford was not to guard the Death Eaters, and someone has removed the 'not'. Which makes it seem like an inside job."
"Do you think it was Crockford, then?" Draco asked.
"We don't know. He and Perkins – the junior Auror – were stunned pretty thoroughly, they are still being treated in St Mungo's and the staff won't let us anywhere near them until Sunday at the earliest. But I thought you two in particular needed to know as soon as possible."
"Thanks," said Harry; but it sounded perfunctory. His mind was clearly struggling to think things through. "Does the Ministry have any clue where they are?"
"Not much. We are thin on the ground; we put Aurors here just in case there was trouble within the student body but now they're staying because Hogwarts is such an obvious target. But we've got everyone we can spare hunting for them, of course. And don't you get any ideas, Harry. You stay put here, got it?"
Harry looked mutinous. But Draco glared at him, and reluctantly he nodded.

Thursday afternoon saw the second Potions lesson, which was taken by Liberius Borage.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I have heard about what happened on Monday and I promise you I will not stand for it. There will be no attempts at sabotage," he said, staring at Ivanov, then passing his gaze along all the students, "nor intimidation, nor blame-passing. These are not worthy of students in my class and you will be out permanently in seconds if I see any such behaviour.
"Today we will begin to brew a potion that I can guarantee you will all find a challenge."
He waved his wand, and instructions appeared on the board.
Draco and Stefan, each of whom could probably brew anything known, both gasped. For this potion was not one anyone living had brewed before; it was the potion Snape had developed to prevent lying. Over the next two months, they were to brew Expositor Falsitas.
Harry's face fell. This was going to be tough. For the first time, Snape's notes would give him no advantage; he would have to brew this all by himself. He stood in a stupor, and went and mechanically got the requisite ingredients for both Draco and himself.
During the lesson it became clear that the rivalry between Draco and Stefan was getting dangerous. The second time that Bulgarian 'accidentally' bumped the blond, Harry managed to catch hold of Draco's hand; there was no visible manifestation of the shield this time, but it must have been there, because Draco didn't move, while the other boy was visibly hurt, and sat there for a good ten minutes rubbing his arm.
"Are you wounded, Mr Ivanov?" Borage asked him archly.
"N-no sir," he replied, but there was clearly pain in his voice.
"I don't believe you," the Potions Master responded crisply. "You will not lie to me again, Mr Ivanov, is that clear? Now, put a stasis charm on your cauldron and report to the infirmary."
Ivanov looked like he was going to argue; but Borage fixed him with a steely gaze, and said, simply, "now."
The rest of the afternoon passed with considerably less tension. After the class, Borage approached Harry.
"Mr Potter," he said, passing him a folded piece of parchment. "Professor Snape left this for you."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, as he opened and read the message.
"What is it?" Draco asked as Harry broke into a smile.
"Fancy a trip to Spinner's End this weekend?" Harry asked.

Ivan Smetana, who had been sitting at the back of the Potions room, was quietly fuming. This was the second Potions class in which his hot-shot potions genius had been effortlessly eclipsed by Potter; and the second one where Ivanov had nothing to show for his efforts. He was beginning to revise his earlier assessment: Harry Potter was still a force to be reckoned with, it seemed. He knew exactly what had happened; he had, after all, put Stefan up to it. But each time Potter had easily avoided the problem. Too easily; he suspected, from his body language, that the boy had had wandless shield charms ready if that damn Haussmann shield hadn't kicked in. The weakness he had seen was passing, revealing a colossal strength.
Smetana had taken the post of chaperone to try to get to the Malfoy boy; but perhaps he needed to put revenge aside for the moment. He had heard disturbing noises from his contacts back at Durmstrang; it seemed that Gregory Goyle's father had some unexpected visitors. The facts that this must mean a break-out from Azkaban, and that nothing had been published in the disreputable Daily Prophet, rather increased his anxieties. He had no wish for a return to any form of leadership by practitioners of Dark magic; in which case Potter as an ally would definitely be the greater prize.

Friday 10 July
Their lessons on Friday seemed almost anticlimactic after the events of Potions the previous day. Ioenscu had them practising the Prosecho charm; but not before Hermione had tackled him about it, pointing out that it didn't seem to be a Latin word like most of the other magical incantations.
"Very well spotted, Miss – er –"
"Granger, sir. Hermione Granger," she replied.
"Oh of course. Yes, well, 'prosecho' or 'pay attention' comes from the Greek language. It turns out that an awful lot of the best healing spells come from Greek magic; the tradition of healing from Ancient Greece is much stronger than from Rome. Even the Muggles are aware of this; though I suspect from your Muggle Studies class, you may know this better than I do."
Blaise put his hand up, and when called on, explained that he was studying Medicine as his Muggle Studies project, and had already encountered Hippocrates and Galen.
"Very good!" said their Professor. "But we must not let our passions run away with us. To practice!"
During the class, he made sure to spend time with each of them in turn, performing a basic assessment on each student. At the end of the class, he explained that he would be teaching them the basics of Legilimency and Occlumency in the weeks to come. Harry shuddered.
"Is there a problem, Mr Potter?" Armand said softly.
"Er, I was taught Occlumency before; but I don't have good memories of it."
"I see," the healer replied. "But that was not by me. I believe you will find my methods significantly less unpleasant."
Harry had the strangest feeling that the man knew exactly what his lessons with Snape had been like. Just how much had he seen while in Harry's head?

Harry requested another pass to Floo out of Hogwarts from Flitwick. He was told that in fact there would be no problem, students could come and go as they pleased on the weekend; the staff really only needed to know where they were.
It wasn't till he and Draco Flooed to Snape's house in Spinner's End that he showed the blond the note he had given. It read, in true Snape style, 'Potter: no doubt your life has been too busy to pay attention to such trivial matters as the properties you have been bequeathed; so I suggest you visit my study and retrieve the green journal from the bottom drawer of my desk, as it will give you further insights of the type you made such good use of to impress certain other Potions Professors.' There was something magnificent about Snape, Harry thought; the note had made him blush – for he had not visited Spinner's End before now, and he felt guilty about that – but he also enjoyed the implied put-down of Professor Slughorn as being easy to impress.
Draco, on reading the note, grinned at him. "This is your first time here, isn't it?"
Harry's blush deepened, and he nodded, not trusting his voice.
Draco chuckled. "He knew us both so well," he said, turning around to inspect the house. "I visited here just once. Normally I managed to play my parents off against each other, and keep at least one of them happy with me; but this one time when I was in a spot of trouble with both of them at the same time, and Severus wanted to take me away to give them a day or two to cool down, he brought me here. If I remember rightly, his study is through there. I remember it being full of books; not as many as the Manor library, but probably more useful to Severus as they were all on subjects that interested him."
They found that the house was neat and tidy, everything perfectly in order; Harry was amazed, he didn't think Snape had had a house-elf, and he couldn't imagine that nothing had happened to the house since Snape had left it months previously. Draco came up with the answer: Snape had magnificent protective wards on the place, and they were set up so he could leave the place alone for years at a time if need be.
After perhaps half an hour in the study, Harry found the journal that Snape's note had directed him to; it was, in fact, exactly where he had said it was, at the bottom of the bottom drawer; but rather than go straight to it they had spent time leafing through the books and photographs that Snape had left lying on top of it. It was clear that this was his intention; there were photographs of Harry's parents, including two beautiful moving photographs of Lily smiling for the camera that Harry had never seen before. To Draco's amazement, there were also wedding photographs of his parents; he wondered, not for the first time, just exactly how much Snape had known, or guessed, about his life. Did the man know he would end up with Harry?
As Harry opened the book, Draco's eyes lit up. This was gold-dust: the work journal Snape had been using just before he had left for the last time. And here were the instructions for Expositor Falsitas; the real ones, the ones Snape had actually followed, not the ones that he had left for Borage. Harry wondered out loud exactly why he had done that.
"We discussed that once," Draco replied. "He said that Borage, and most potioneers, think of potion ingredients being merely items to be added by an expert, namely themselves; while Severus always thought of a potion as a living thing in its own right. He said that the ingredients need to be introduced properly, so there are different stirrings, and uses of back-stirring; and you'll see he reverses the order of ingredients every now and then, just because the new order makes for a more harmonious result."
"Wow," Harry said, "he really cared about this stuff, didn't he? So, why not tell Borage this method?"
"Two reasons, I suspect," Draco replied. "Firstly, Borage wouldn't have understood all the little fine points that were second nature to Severus; and secondly, while I loved him dearly, he was a snarky secretive bastard, and didn't give up anything easy. It was pretty amazing that he gave you his book; he really must have thought a lot of you."
Harry couldn't think of a way to answer that without becoming far too maudlin for a Saturday morning, so continued, "OK, so what's going on with Expositor Falsitas then?"
The two of them pored over the revised recipe, and after an hour or so, reading the book and cross-referencing with other journals and certain books on Dark Magic that Draco said his father would give a testicle to own, Harry had grasped exactly what changes Snape had made, and why; and his admiration for the genius that had been Severus Snape had gone through the roof.
They had nearly finished when Harry suddenly froze. As it was now his house, he had been keyed into the wards; and they alerted him that someone was trying to Floo in to the study. A moment later, the fire went green, and a familiar figure in Auror's robes stepped out.
"Robin!" Harry said delightedly. "What are you doing here?"
The Auror looked at him rather severely, and answered in a rather stern tone, "I might ask you the same thing, Mr Potter. I know you obtained permission from the school, but the Ministry would like you to consult with them too. Didn't the Deputy Minister tell you to stay put in Hogwarts? You are aware that there are escaped Death Eaters about?"
Harry nodded, but said nothing. To be truthful, he was, for the first time, just a little frightened of the other man. Robin obviously sensed this, because his hard face softened just a little.
"Well then I'm sure you appreciate that we would rather you didn't just go charging around the countryside as though you didn't have a worry in the world! You are still a big target, Harry, and we really do care about you."
Harry blushed. "You're not going to get in trouble, are you?" he asked.
Robin grinned. "You're impossible!" he replied. "You are at risk of attack from escaped convicts who have demonstrated that they won't hesitate to kill and you're worried about me getting in trouble? No, of course not, I'm here now, and all will be well. But do tell me, or one of the other Aurors at Hogwarts, before you disappear again, all right? And that goes for you too, Mr Malfoy. You are also a likely target for Death Eater activity. Now, what have you been up to?"
Harry briefly considered not telling Robin anything; he was, after all, an Auror, and some of the tomes they had found were not entirely legal … But it was impossible to hide anything from Robin, and he didn't bat an eyelid when they showed him the books.
"You're not going to confiscate them, are you?" Draco asked warily.
Robin laughed. "I've seen plenty of this stuff – there are books like these openly on the shelves at Durmstrang. But if anyone asks, you never showed them to me, all right?"
Draco relaxed a little, then stiffened again when he realised Harry was on high alert once more.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Someone is trying to break through the wards. And doing a pretty good job of it," he said, unconsciously reaching out for Draco's hand in support. As soon as they touched, the Haussmann shield made itself known with a bright swirl of colours, and then the whole room was tinged with a red light, which seemed to stream into the walls of the room and fade out altogether.
Robin cast a diagnostic charm, and his face went white as his eyebrows marched up his face.
"Wow," he said. "You've just cast what's usually called an Unbreakable ward!"
Draco looked stunned, and it was Harry who asked, "is it?"
Some colour came back into Robin's face as he replied, "no, not really. But it's very hard to break. Assaults with strength won't do it because it just absorbs magic that attacks it. You have to be patient and cunning. Even if you know what you're doing, an Unbreakable ward can take days to break."
"So how come I've never heard of them?" Harry asked.
"Because," Robin responded, "it takes an incredible amount of power and skill to make one. I can count on one hand the number of wizards who have managed to cast them successfully. Grindelwald could do it, but he is only known to have done it three times. I don't believe Dumbledore could do it. Voldemort did it during the First Wizarding war, but didn't manage it, as far as anyone knows, during the Second. There is only one other wizard you will have heard of who could cast it."
"Who?" Draco asked.
"Severus Snape," Robin replied, thoughtfully.
Harry suddenly shushed them as he cocked his head. "They're through," he replied.
And indeed, moments later they could hear low voices in the adjacent room.
"Very cosy," the hated voice of Dolores Umbridge sang out. "Yes, I think we could camp here for a week."
"We may have to," Rookwood's voice said, startling them as it was much louder. It took a few seconds before they realised why: he was much closer, standing at the study door. "This room is Snape's study, and the ward on it …." There was a pause, and then the man hissed out, "he's put an Unbreakable ward on! It's going to take time to get through it."
"How long?" Umbridge asked, her voice harsh and demanding.
"Four or five days, at a guess. Maybe longer. We'll have to work on it in shifts."
"Why not just blast it?" another voice asked. Barnes's, Harry realised.
"Because you can't beat an Unbreakable ward with force. That's why it's called Unbreakable. There are strands of magic that just get stronger if you blast them. You have to tease them apart. Very, very slowly."
"So, do we really need to bother?" Barnes asked.
"Know anyone else who has a book on Dark Memory charms?" Umbridge rejoined. Barnes must have shaken his head or indicated the negative in some other way, because Umbridge simple continued, "Thought not. Carry on, Rookwood. I'll see about some food."
"Might be a good time to leave," Banks said, keeping his voice low.
"And it also might be a good idea to take this," Draco replied, holding up a dark blue book entitled Deep Memory Magic: Theory and Practise.
Banks looked impressed. "Good find," he said, as he picked up some Floo powder.

The two lads had assumed that they would go to the Ministry, so they were rather surprised when Robin announced their destination. But Lucius Malfoy didn't seem particularly surprised to see them.
"Ah, good, you made it," he said, and noticing their amazed faces, continued, "I asked Robin to bring you here for lunch when he told me where you were. Hungry?"
Lunch was on the lawn; Teddy was visiting, and Narcissa and Andromeda wanted him to play as much as possible, so they sat outside keeping a watchful eye on him. Not that he was likely to come to much harm; Mappy and Dippy were both there fussing over him, which seemed to delight the tot no end.
"So aren't you going to tell the Ministry about the Death Eaters?" Harry asked Robin.
"Oh yes," the Auror replied. "But in good time, Harry. Your safety is more important right now. They're not going anywhere; Rookwood isn't going to let that ward stop him, I could hear it in his voice, he was excited by the challenge. And also, the Ministry would just crash in and arrest them, which wouldn't really get us anywhere."
"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, offended that justice didn't seem to be being served. "Why shouldn't the Aurors pick them up?"
"They're plotting something," Lucius replied. "At the moment, we don't know what. If they were arrested right now, no-one would be the wiser; they don't even need a trial, they'd just go straight back to Azkaban. But someone in the Ministry knows what they're up to; and thanks to what you overheard, we have a pretty good idea ourselves."
"Whereas if we catch them in the act, and prove who their accomplice is, we get rid of the whole problem. And if we don't openly use the Aurors to do it, there's scope for some other action to be taken against them."
Draco looked at his father. "You have a plan, don't you?"
"Oh yes," the older Malfoy replied. "But don't worry, Harry, you'll love it, I assure you."
"So we have to sit tight then?" Draco asked, smirking in evident delight at the underhanded scheming.
"Yes," Robin replied, matching his smirk. "I will be making a report to the Deputy Minister, so you're welcome to discuss it with him, but please not with anyone else."
The boys agreed, and the conversation moved on. Lucius gave them some books and names of useful contacts he had to help them with their Muggle Studies projects; and they returned to Hogwarts in time for dinner.
Once they had gone, Robin and Lucius retired to the latter's study to plan their next moves. It took some considerable time; and when they had finished, Robin quietly returned to Spinner's End and placed a copy of Memory Magic: Theory and Practise on Snape's bookshelves.
At least, that's what the book said it was …

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have set up a thread for replies at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ . Please indicate which chapter you are reading, as aff doesn't make that clear. I will generally try to reply to posts before posting a new chapter.
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Returning to Sanity