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Welcome, The Darkness Infused	By : Prophecies Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 5135 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Chapter 7: Ministry Mayhem

�Why didn�t you stop him!� he shouted at Malfoy.

Malfoy, who was lying slumped on the dark wood of the floor, eyes closed, arms and legs stiff at his sides. His blond hair had fallen into his face, which was contorted into an agonizing expression as if he were being tortured, and his black robes, which had fallen open, framed his body like a coffin.

�Someone, anyone�please�kill me,� he was muttering under his breath morosely, pretending for all the world Harry was a part of the furniture.

He definitely looked like death, Harry noted. Malfoy�s skin looked even more sallow than it normally did against the black of his robes; as a result, the dark circles that looped underneath his eyes like a coil looked more prominent than ever.

�I�m talking to you, Malfoy, answer me!� he snapped angrily.

Why he had fallen for Snape�s now obviously false apology and request to be civil, he could not begin to comprehend. Clearly, every word Snape had uttered had been false. And the worst part was that Harry had been willing to give it a shot.

He�d really believed Snape had meant what he�d said. To be fair, the potion his ex-Professor made for him had actually worked. It must all have been a ruse to lure Harry into this horrendous predicament. He would bet his entire Gringotts vault that Snape was probably having a good laugh at Harry�s expense right this moment.

He grimaced and wondered whether the potion that had gotten rid of his aches and bruises might have some unpleasant side effects he didn�t know about�yet. He shook that unhelpful thought from his mind with a shiver and continued to glower down at Malfoy threateningly.

Malfoy, however, did not move. He didn�t look to be breathing either.

Harry hoped someone had answered his death wish.

�Malfoy!� he tried again impatiently.

Nothing.

He huffed in frustration as he paced a few steps away and lifted his arm to rake his hands through his hair when something fell out of the sleeve of his robes and dropped to the floor.

It was his wand. He had no clue how it had got there, but he was not about to start questioning his luck. He dived for it and almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to snatch it from the floor.

The next fifteen minutes he wasted trying every spell he had ever learnt on the bracelet trapped around his wrist.

The triumph and confidence he�d felt while he had stood deliberating which spell he would try first and would be most successful in removing the bracelet swiftly evaporated in a puff of smoke drifting to the horizon when it promptly became clear that all of his efforts did not even seem to bring a dent in the sparkling silver of metal.

He had tried everything short of blasting or cursing his own hand off, though he had been tempted once or twice when his gaze had drifted over to Malfoy, who had just lain there on the drawing room floor theatrically like a fallen angel of death, and considered exactly what it would mean to be stuck with him.

He looked dejectedly at his wrist as he muttered one of the first spells he�d ever learnt without expecting to succeed. But even though Wingardium Leviosa had once rescued him from a twelve feet tall Mountain Troll, all it was good for now was a soft sizzle and pop that brought the mingled smell of sour cheese and feet and notified him that yet another attempt had flunked.

�Once again you astound me with your brilliant lack of brains; how you ever passed six years at Hogwarts, I�m sure many would like to know. Really, a levitation charm, Potter? You disgust me.�

Harry spun round to find Malfoy propped up on his elbows, watching his every move with a mask of scorn chiselled in place.

�If you�re so brilliant, Malfoy, why don�t you take these off then?� he snapped back, waving his left arm, which held the bracelet, up and down. As soon as the words had left his mouth, though, he wished he hadn�t spoken. They eerily reminded him of one particular Charms class years ago, where he�d first learnt that same levitation charm, and the argument that had followed between Ron and Hermione.

Malfoy shook his head, his lips curling into a sneer before opening his mouth. Not waiting for a response or to find that Malfoy indeed knew a way to rid them of these bracelets (he�d never hear the end of it if Malfoy actually succeeded), he did the one thing he hadn�t tried yet.

He turned on his heel and Apparated.

Harry caught a last glimpse of Malfoy's horrified face before Grimmauld place vanished before his eyes. Elation swelled up in him like a big hot air balloon, but his joy didn't last long when a searing pain punctured his conviction of success with a needle sharper than the claws of a hippogriff. His scalp felt as if it was on fire, and he dropped to his knees clutching his head, the ground agonizingly solid underneath him. At first he hoped he'd only Splinched an ear in his impatience to get away from Malfoy, but as the pain, which felt like a jolt of electricity trying to penetrate his nervous system, started travelling from his head through his whole body with an unbearable slowness, he realised what he felt must be a thousand times worse than having your whole head Splinched off clean and let out a howl of pain.

He was lying sprawled on his side groaning loudly, his limbs twitching alarmingly and his head feeling like it had exploded and then been glued back together with glue that wasn't particularly sticky. It felt like ages until he was able to open his eyes again. It didn�t do him much good when he did because his glasses had fallen off. The world he was able to see was a canvas of fuzz and blur.

As he rolled onto his back, he felt something shatter underneath him. How many times he�d been forced to mend his glasses he wasn�t sure. He wondered absently how often a thing had to have been broken for it to be irreparable even by magic.

�You - Idiot!� snarled the voice he had been dreading to hear in between gasps of what could only be defined as horrible agony. Even though something had obviously gone very wrong, he�d still hoped he had managed to Apparate somewhere away from Draco Malfoy.

Harry twisted his neck to the location the voice had come from. A big, saggy lump of black robes and pale-white features was heaving and breathing heavily.

He must be lying on the exact same spot where he had stood trying to Apparate, and Malfoy, (the big, heaving lump) only a few feet away, was still down on the floor but now frantically clutching his torso. All Harry could see of his face was an indiscernible blotch of an unhealthy, sickly-grey shade that was moaning pitifully.

�I didn�t think-� Harry began weakly, desperately raking his brain for some kind of explanation that would not make him sound like a complete halfwit, but was cut off.

�That much was obvious, Potter,� Malfoy spat. �Didn�t you hear what Severus said? Thirty-two feet? Excruciating pain? Ring a bell? No? Of course not�� he mocked disgustedly. �If you had let me speak before trying to do us both in, I would have told you that only the caster of the spell can remove Restrictive Rings!�

Harry didn�t answer; instead, he groaned miserably. Not because he was in pain, but because what he�d expected all along but not wanted to admit had just been confirmed; these bracelets were not coming off any time soon.

He suddenly wished he was still back in the Hospital Wing in an induced coma.

He compelled himself to stand while he focused on ignoring Malfoy�s angry mutterings. The pain had left as suddenly as it had come. In the process of dragging his body up, he discovered his wand not far away and fixed his crushed glasses with a softly whispered spell. His vision focused, and things lurched back in place as soon as his glasses were set safely on the bridge of his nose.

He just stood for a while, staring downheartedly at nothing in particular. There was nothing for it. He'd just have to bring him along for the day. Just one day, he reminded himself, trying to make that thought as cheerful as possible. But he couldn't fool himself; one day in the presence of Draco Malfoy was one too many.

The only thing that did manage to brighten his spirits somewhat after he had accepted the inevitable was the thought of all the nasty curses he would make Snape suffer when he�d see him again.

�Restrictive Rings?� he said after a moment, slicing right through Malfoy's litany of insults, which was still going on strong.

�-what? Oh...yes, Restrictive Rings,� Malfoy responded loftily. �Dark Magic. Use of these rings has been banned by the Ministry because of the coercion involved,� he snorted, getting up on his feet. �Not as bad as something like the Imperius, of course, but that�s a matter of opinion. If you ask me, in the end, it all depends on whom the victim gets stuck with,� he eyed Harry pointedly. �Complicated piece of magic, really,� he continued, sounding to Harry's distaste almost impressed with Snape's handy work. �especially the infused bit of Transfiguration and Charms work. Combining the two together with a bit of-�

He stopped abruptly, absolute shock dominating his features. Harry thought it must have hit Malfoy that he was having an actual conversation with him without the usual inserted belittlements and was utterly repulsed by himself.

Traces of horrified surprise gave way to a fearsome scowl he directed at Harry as if he blamed him for his mishap. Malfoy narrowed his eyes into suspicious slits and demanded, �What are you playing at, Potter?�

Harry sighed wearily, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. �Nothing. I need to go to the Ministry of Magic to see the Minister, and because of these Restrictive Rings I�m taking you with me.� He grimaced. �After that we�ll visit Godric�s Hollow, where I-�

He stopped.

He realised he had to be very careful how he went about saying things around Malfoy. Just because he was forced to take him along did not change the fact that he trusted Malfoy as much as he�d trust a giant Blast-Ended Skrewt within a two feet radius.

�-I have to do some�stuff,� he finished vaguely.

Malfoy�s eyes, after narrowing even further, resembled two vertical lines with lashes. �Some�stuff?� he repeated sceptically.

�Yes.�

Malfoy opened his mouth furiously, doubtlessly to demand a proper explanation, but Harry beat him to it and hastily asked, �So�your concealment charms, are they any good?�

Malfoy glared darkly at him, seemingly in conflict with himself, as his expression kept shifting between a scowl and a frown. But his urge to prove himself and gloat in the knowledge he knew something Harry did not clearly won the battle over his apprehension because he snapped, �Of course they are. It�s not all that complicated.� He rustled with his robes for a bit, looking for something. �But then, you probably couldn�t do it,� he added, looking up at Harry, smirking.

Harry wanted nothing more than to hex that smirk right off his face.

Malfoy continued to fumble with his pockets and searched the insides of his robes before eventually extracting a dark-coloured wand from one of his arm sleeves. Obviously pleased to hold it again, Malfoy gave it a flourish; a looping spiral of cold fire rushed out of its end. The fire dissolved slowly and left an ashy scent coating the air.

�How did you know you had it on you?� Harry asked perplexed.

�Severus�s work, of course,� Malfoy said, giving Harry a look as if he hadn�t seen someone so witless, which Harry didn�t really find fair because Malfoy had spent most of his time in the company of Crabe and Goyle.

To him, it wasn�t all that self-evident how their wands could have reappeared inside their sleeves after having been confiscated, but he didn�t question it further and, instead, looked on as Malfoy made an intricate wand movement ending with a sharp flick that he aimed straight between his brows.

The change was instantaneous. His hair, a second ago white-blond, was now a rich dark brown. His eyes, usually silvery-grey, now looked to be brown as well, and his nose was a little less pointed.

Admiring his reflection in a particularly shiny plate that hung on the wall near him, Malfoy nodded and turned to Harry with a superior air that was unmistakably Malfoyish and wasn�t at all diminished by his changed appearance.

Harry honestly tried not to, but he was so used to seeing the Slytherin with stark-blond hair and a pointy nose permanently held up in the air, that seeing Malfoy with anything but that looked entirely ridiculous and burst out laughing. His shoulders were shaking in his mirth, and the dark look that overcame Malfoy�s face when he saw Harry�s reaction only added to his amusement.

�What�s so funny?� Malfoy bit out, his hand clenching around his wand.

�N-nothing,� gasped Harry, between bubbles of laughter. �It�s just�different. Actually, I think it�s quite an improvement. But then again, anything would have been, so that doesn�t say much,� he continued with tears in his eyes. �No really,� he added insincerely when a rosy colour began to tint Malfoy�s cheeks. Harry wasn�t sure it was embarrassment or anger. Probably both. �You could surely pass as one of Hermione�s Muggle relatives.�

To that, Malfoy�s eyes widened. Stunned into momentary silence and revulsion, he stared at Harry, his knuckles white from gripping his wand so tightly. Suddenly his mouth twisted into a fierce snarl, and he started forward furiously as if Harry, instead of telling him he could pass for a Muggle, had told him he could pass for a Flobberworm. �I look nothing like your Mudblood friend, Potter,� he spat, pointing his wand at Harry threateningly.

But Harry was too busy looking at Malfoy in befuddlement to react to the insult or to the wand pointed at his face. Malfoy�s hair was flickering between brown and blond like a flashlight; his nose was a blur: it kept switching from pointy to round so fast that it looked as if it had a life on its own, and at one point Harry swore Malfoy had one grey and one brown eye at the same time.

�What are you staring at?� Malfoy demanded crossly. But the more worked up Malfoy became, Harry noted, the more his features kept twitching alarmingly. �Well?� he pressed when Harry didn�t answer. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of himself in the plate, the faint red in his cheeks deepened noticeably, and he barked, �Finite,� which instantly lifted the enchantment.

�What happened?� Harry asked at once.

�Concealment Charms, that�s what happened,� snapped Malfoy. �All they do is conceal. Unlike using Polyjuice, none of your features actually change. It requires a vast amount of concentration, or you risk for the concealment to Glitch-�

�-and for you to get discovered,� Harry finished for him. �I thought you said it was easy,� he snipped.

�Yes,� Malfoy admitted sourly, �and it is! Some of us don't have the magical talent of a Squib.�

�You concealment Glitched because you got angry,� Harry reasoned, ignoring Malfoy's jibe. �That can�t happen when we meet the Minister, you know. You need to control yourself, Malfoy.�

�Control myself!� Malfoy shrieked indignantly. �If you hadn�t implied something so�so atrocious, it wouldn�t have happened!�

It took them the better part of an hour to finish their argument, in which Malfoy had been forced to cast five more Concealment Charms because he�d got so angry that his face had looked like a permanent glitch.

It had got up to a point where Malfoy had persistently refused to leave Grimmauld Place with a �creepy black-eyed, horribly disfigured (he�d said that eying Harry's lightning-shaped scar) mad man�. Only when Harry had Apparated yet again (leaving himself and Malfoy in quivering heaps on the floor in the process) and had stubbornly informed Malfoy that he would do it again if he had to and as often as needed, only then had Malfoy changed his mind, saying he would enjoy seeing Harry make a fool of himself in front of the Minister for Magic, like it had been his idea all along, though clearly the prospect of more pain had been the decisive factor.

They had disagreed on everything. From which location to Apparate to, to how much food they should bring along for lunch. They simply agreed to disagree.

Harry wanted to use the visitor�s entrance to get to the Ministry, while Malfoy thought it better to use the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron and Floo directly into the Minister�s office unannounced. �Potter, you�re famous!� he had exclaimed loudly when Harry had told him a clear �No�, �We shouldn�t have to wait in line with all the commoners!�

Then, Malfoy had sneered at him and shouted that Harry didn�t know politics if it hit him in the face when he also hadn�t agreed to the suggestion that he should visit his vault at Gringotts first to give the Minister an incentive if he didn�t listen to words.

According to Malfoy�s theory, actions spoke louder than words, but Galleons made actions redundant.

Twice their disagreements had ended in fist fights that had only stopped because they both had worn themselves out trying to punch each other harder than the other could.

They at least had both decided that it wouldn�t be such a good idea to Apparate separately. The risk of landing too far apart from each other and suffering the horrible consequences made sure of that. When the time came to leave, it had taken another fifteen minutes to decide who should perform the Side-Along-Apparition.

�I�m not going to Splinch you, Malfoy!� Harry shouted for the hundredth time into Malfoy�s face, which once again sported brown hair, brown eyes and a dull nose.

�How would you know? Have you ever done Side-Along-Apparition? Your magic might not be as bad as Longbottom�s, but it�s pretty close!�

Harry gritted his teeth, adjusting the clasps of the bag packed full with grilled cheese sandwiches on his back. Malfoy had insisted on bringing what he called a proper meal and had ordered one of his house-elves to pack them crumpets, lamb chops and a chocolate gateau. When Harry had snarled that it wasn't practical to walk around carrying three-course meals and that he wasn't carrying all that, Malfoy had only sneered and told him curtly that he would remember that come lunchtime when Harry was nibbling on one of his pathetic sandwiches, and he was enjoying his lamb chops.

�For your information, I have.� He still had nightmares of Dumbledore too weak to travel and him Apparating them both to Hogsmeade. �Besides,� he continued irritably, as an idea occurred to him, �you can�t be the one to Apparate us, you need to focus on your Concealment Charm. From what I understand, you aren�t able to perform anything but the simplest of spells while underneath the enchantment. And Apparating is not simple,� he finished, quite pleased with himself.

When Malfoy�s mouth opened and closed stupidly while he attempted to come up with a retort to Harry�s logic, Harry�s frustration turned into triumph when it became clear Malfoy couldn't weasel his way out of that one.

�Fine!� Malfoy spat eventually, hoisting his own heavily laden bag � complete with silverware, a porcelain plate, a golden goblet and a pepper-and-salt mill decorated with serpents � onto his back, �But if you as much as get me a split end, I swear I will make you pay!�

Apparating with Malfoy turned out to be very dangerous. Harry had only just turned on his heel when Malfoy�s grip on his arm tightened painfully before he panicked and tried to let go of Harry�s arm altogether. If he hadn�t been able to reach around with his other hand to grab the hem of Malfoy�s robes, he was sure the result would have been disastrous.

As it was, Harry wasn't at all pleased. Even though he had managed to Apparate them away safely, he hadn't been able to prevent them from drifting off course entirely.

�Where are we?� Malfoy asked furiously. His face, although having subtle differences, looked as aloof as ever when he peered around with a look of deepest loathing.

They had landed in a narrow, grubby side street that was luckily deserted apart from a scruffy-looking man, who was lying on the ground with an old and mouldy newspaper covering his face. It connected to a Muggle street that was laden with shops, boutiques and restaurants and was completely buzzing with people.

�Are those...� Malfoy started when he noticed the direction Harry was staring in. �Wait... Muggle London, you brought me to Muggle London!� he screeched appalled.

�You can't be serious...I can't stay here,� he said in a panicky voice, shadows winding across his face when the sun, noticeably having difficulties, penetrated the little passageway. �If you think for one second - If anyone were to know I've been here,� he shuddered at the thought. �I can't believe you, Potter, I should never have trusted you to Apparate. Muggle London! I -�

�Shut up!� Harry hissed between clenched teeth as a man and a woman, whose arms were full of shopping bags, entered the side street. Malfoy's mouth, which was still open in protest, snapped shut the instant he noticed the Muggles, his face twisting with disgust, and he started to back away, his eyes following their every movement as if he were afraid they would jump on him and rub some of their Muggleness off on him.

Harry smiled weakly at the couple when the woman's steps faltered; she was eying them dubiously and slowly edging closer to her husband. Confused, Harry followed her gaze and saw the woman had been staring at their clothes and wands. He realised with a start that they, of course, were wearing wizard attire, not at all appropriate for a trip into Muggle London.

He quickly stuffed his wand away into the insides of his robes and tried to catch Malfoy�s eye to do the same. Malfoy wasn�t looking at him, though; he was still watching the Muggles in alarm with his back now pressed all the way against the wall (Harry feverishly anticipated a smashed chocolate gateau), but what was worse, half of his hair was turning into a white familiar blond.

�Hello,� said Harry, quickly trying to distract the couple�s attention off Malfoy's conspicuous behaviour, but it was useless. Malfoy was standing partly in shadows, staring fixedly at the pair, while more strands of brown started remodelling themselves into blond. Fortunately they weren't so much looking at his face. The woman gasped loudly, pointing at the end of the wand that was visibly protruding from Malfoy's sleeve. Unfortunately, she had mistaken Malfoy�s wand for something else entirely.

�He's got a gun, Peter, look!� she cried in terror.

As soon as the Muggles had fled from the alley and back into the busy street (the woman dropping most of her bags in her haste to get away), he rounded on Malfoy and fixed him with an incredulous stare before growling, �For Merlin�s sake what were you doing? Look at your hair! You made us look like a bunch of thugs in an alley. I wouldn�t be surprised if they called the police!�

�A gun? I don't even know what a gun is!� Malfoy said loftily, regaining some of his composure as he straightened his robes. �Wait...what are they going to call?�

�Never mind,� snarled Harry. �Let�s go. This way, quickly. And fix your hair!�

Harry started to run in the direction opposite to the many shoppers without looking back to see if Malfoy was following, feverishly hoping he would just disappear if he didn't acknowledge him. The other end of the side street concluded in even drearier side streets, which held clusters of small, ordinary-looking offices and buildings and one or two unpopulated pubs. The few people they saw examined them with shifty eyes and quickly averted their gazes when they saw that he and Malfoy had noticed them looking.

He was starting to become frantic when he did not recognise a single landmark of his visit to the Ministry with Mr. Weasley. Everything seemed to look alike, though he had been confident he'd recollect at least something; Mr. Weasley had been very quick to point out every minor detail along the way (look, Harry, another one of those road signs! This one has a drawn man in it, you see? Marvellously inventive those Muggles, aren't they?).

Certain they couldn't have Apparated that far away from their destination, he trotted on hastily, Malfoy now next to him panting and red in the face, his hair brown again and his backpack dangling heavily off one shoulder.

�Don't...tell me...we're lost, Potter,� he panted.

Harry didn't say anything.

�Oh, God � we are, aren't we?� Malfoy moaned.

And then, to Harry's great relief, he saw it: straight ahead, a telephone box covered with bright red, flaking paint and several missing panes of glass stood at the end of the next street near a wall full of freshly sprayed graffiti.

�Stuck in Muggle London, with none other than the magnificent Harry Potter himself; the one person I hate more than...well...everyone!� Malfoy was muttering darkly under his breath.

�Don't you ever stop whining?� snapped Harry irritably. �It's right here,� he said, opening the telephone-box door, which creaked loudly. He entered and held the door open for Malfoy, who looked at him as if he'd grown an extra head.

�Potter, this �� he pointed at the telephone, �� is an old Muggle mechanism by the looks of it � I'm not quite sure � but definitely not the Ministry of Magic,� he said slowly, supplying his every word with wild hand gestures as if Harry were too dense to understand words alone.

�It's called a telephone and it is the Ministry of Magic!� Harry exploded, losing every ounce of his patience, which had already been lacking severely. �I mean, it's not the Ministry but ��

�No, really, Potter, isn't St. Mungo�s supposed to be somewhere in London? Either way, it can't be far. Maybe we could make a quick stop there and have your head checked first.�

�Very funny, Malfoy. Are you coming or not?�

Malfoy didn�t move.

�Look at it! It�s disgusting,� he exclaimed incredulously, �You can�t seriously expect me to �� He saw Harry�s determined expression and changed his mind. �I mean, there obviously isn�t enough room for the both of us, in there. Look at it!� he exclaimed again.

�Get � in � Malfoy,� Harry growled, �unless you�d rather I got out and Apparated. Alone.�

It was the perfect weapon to get Malfoy to do as he wanted. Malfoy was a Slytherin; he�d do anything to avoid pain. He would never willingly suffer pain to achieve something the way Harry would. To Harry, Malfoy was a coward.

Malfoy stiffened and shot him the iciest glare he could muster. �Fine,� he spat coldly, following him inside. He stood as far from Harry as he could, using his large and overstuffed bag as a barrier.

They barely fit in the cramped space; to Harry, it seemed as if the telephone box had shrunk since the last time he'd been there. He reached for the receiver � he was crammed up so close to the telephone that it was difficult to bend his arm � and dialled the required numbers. At once, the familiar cool female voice resounded through the telephone box.

�Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business.�

Harry grinned at Malfoy's stunned expression; he�d given a start when the voice suddenly had vibrated around them from what seemed like everywhere and nowhere. The words 'I told you so' were burning to be fired from his lips, but he had a better idea.

�Harry Potter, here to see the Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour,� he stated promptly, a malevolent glint caught in his eye, �accompanied by ... Justin, Justin Finch-Fletchley,� he finished gleefully.

The look of horror plastered on Malfoy's face was priceless. Harry's grin threatened to split his face in half as he tried to imprint Malfoy's expression into his memory so that he could describe it to Ron later and laugh about it together.

Before Malfoy had a chance to react, the cool female voice said, �Thank you. Visitors, please take the appointed badges and attach them to the front of your robes.� Two gleaming badges hurtled out of the metal chute where normally coins appeared. Harry picked them up.

�Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.�

As the telephone box started rattling, it seemed to have also rattled away Malfoy's shock. �You.... you,� he shouted unintelligibly, elbowing Harry hard in the ribs. �Finch-Fletchley? A Muggleborn! A Muggleborn who is a Hufflepuff! You did this...you did this on purpose!� he shouted, his voice layered with accusation. He started knocking Harry repeatedly into the telephone apparatus.

�Stop it � Malfoy,� Harry wheezed painfully, but it seemed as if Malfoy had temporarily lost his hearing or was feigning deafness, for he next started whacking Harry with his bulging bag. He felt something (what he imagined had to be the large porcelain plate) coming down hard between his shoulder blades and let out a loud �Oomph!�

After a few seconds of relentless attack, he managed to extract one of his arms, which had been squashed between his body and one of the cracked windows, and grabbed Malfoy by the throat awkwardly in an attempt to push him backwards. He couldn't see Malfoy's face as the lift plunged into darkness, but only hear his mad gurgling noises near his ear and feel legs, arms and bags connect with his body.

Arriving at the security desk slightly limping, Harry glared menacingly at Malfoy. Their lift ride down turned out to have been a rather foggy experience for them both. It had transformed into a full-blown, nasty scuffle; all Harry knew was that at one moment they had been up top in the clear light of day, and the next, down into the gold illumination of the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, completely covered in cuts, marks and bruises.

�The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day,� the cool female voice had said, and they had frozen stupidly like two stone pillars goggling at the hundreds of passing wizards and witches.

Harry�s face had been warped by the barbaric cry he had wanted to unleash. He was holding his bag, which he had planned to bring down on Malfoy�s head, suspended in mid-air. And Malfoy, who had managed to fall onto the floor, his legs folded up in weird angles for lack of space, his nose, hair and eyes flashing so that he looked like a tilted traffic light, had been in the motion of stabbing Harry in the foot with a fork.

The witches and wizards had cluelessly made their way towards the golden gates at the far end of the Atrium, all immersed in conversation, their Daily Prophets, stacks of tower-high parchments or their goblets filled with steaming hot coffee. A queue had formed before the fireplaces on the left, where people were disappearing into a blaze of green smoke, and another next to the fireplaces on the right-hand side, where people appeared, covered in soot, joining the ever-ongoing throng.

Miraculously, no one seemed to have noticed the two people standing stock-still inside the visitor�s entrance, who just a second ago, had actively tried to kill each other.

The lift door had sprung open, and Harry, who had been first to recover, had quickly picked up the two badges (which had fallen to the floor), scrambled out into the doorway (making sure he stomped on one of Malfoy�s limbs on his way out) and successfully blocked Malfoy from view. Thirty seconds later, Malfoy, who Harry noted with a smirk sported a cut lip and held his arm at an odd angle, had passed him without a word, his Concealment Charm intact once again.

The badly-shaven wizard, who Harry remembered from his previous visits was named Eric, occupied the security desk today as well. He sat with a bored expression reading a Quidditch magazine called �Bludgering Bludgers and a Tiny Snitch�, in front of a page that had been printed in massive, flashing-purple letters (Harry wondered how he could continue reading without suffering from a terrible migraine) and completely ignored their presence.

�Excuse me, we�� Harry began politely, but was silenced by a hand that the wizard had raised into the air. He had chosen to wear bright tangerine-yellow robes; Malfoy was looking at them as if Eric should be thrown in Azkaban for his tragic fashion crime.

Harry frowned at him, but the security wizard, however, continued to read his magazine as if there had been no interruption. He glanced over at Malfoy, who gave no outward sign that he had seen Harry looking.

After two minutes of complete silence, Harry tried again. �Excuse me, but�� This time he was cut off by an annoyed little noise that came out of the back of Eric�s throat; he still hadn�t taken his eyes away from his magazine. Annoyed, Harry fell silent again and impatiently tapped his fingers on top of the counter.

Eric�s hand moved as if he were about to put the magazine down, and Harry opened his mouth quickly, thinking he was sure to receive some help now, but the wizard only turned to the next page, on which a poster was displayed of a female Quidditch player scarcely clad in only a blue-coloured cape, arm-and-knee pads and her knickers. She was leaning heavily on a racing broom. Eric turned the magazine sideways to have a better look. Harry felt his face burning.

�Oh, please,� snapped Malfoy after another minute went by, knocking him aside roughly. He leaned over the desk; seized Bludgering Bludgers and a Tiny Snitch out of Eric�s grasp, snapped it shut and sneered into his spluttering face. �We�d like to register our wands. Should you, for any reason find yourself to be occupied,� he said loudly; flapping the magazine in Eric�s face, �thus unable to assist, kindly inform us now � not later � , so that we, in turn, may inform your supervisor,� he went on scathingly, while people were stopping to see where the commotion was coming from. Soon, a small crowd had gathered around them, and Malfoy looked to be in his element. �and, believe me, I will,make sure he hears about the kind of reception you�ve been giving Ministry visitors!� he finished, his voice echoing shrilly through the vast hall.

The line towards the gates was slowing down, and even more Ministry employees paused to stare at them. Harry lowered his head and stepped a bit to the side in the hope he wouldn�t be recognised.

�I could have you sacked before your tiny brain has finished counting to two! Now here,� Malfoy continued bellowing needlessly when everyone was already listening in. He thrust his wand into Eric�s hands, whose face had gone a beet red. �tell me, on which level can we find the Minister?� To this, Eric's face turned a pasty green, his eyes widened so that they resembled two glazed-over marbles, and he hastily started stammering apologies. He actually expected Malfoy to report him to the Minister himself.

Malfoy, knowing exactly what was going through Eric�s head, spat, �Don�t even think you are that important. Well, what are you waiting for, haven�t I been clear enough?�

Harry thought Malfoy had been exceptionally clear.

After Malfoy's little speech, they had their wands weighted and registered in record time. Eyes had followed them all the way to the lifts. The Ministry workers, who had witnessed the incident and had to use the elevator as well, shifted nervously as the lift went higher and higher.

They collectively avoided looking at Malfoy, who stood peering around with an unfathomable expression, and even though he did not look like a Malfoy, Harry planned on having a few choice words on his behaviour.

When they reached the second floor ('Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services') there had only been one person left other than themselves: a scrawny wizard with knobbly elbows and a long nose, on which triangular spectacles bounced nervously. He rushed out as soon as the doors had opened, a fleet of inter-departmental memos trailing in his wake.

�There was no need to raise your voice like that; you�re not supposed to draw attention to yourself, what if you had �Glitched�?� Harry said at once when they were alone.

�I had it under control,� said Malfoy haughtily.

�But what if-�

�I for one had not envisioned spending the rest of my afternoon standing at the security desk watching that pervert flip through his magazine!� Malfoy cut him off. �Plus, your face was becoming so red that I feared it might explode, and as much as I'd celebrate the day you died, Potter,� he added cruelly, �� believe me, I�d even dig your grave myself if I had to, right next to your parents� � I wouldn't want to be anywhere near you when it actually happened. They�d probably try to blame it on me.�

Harry�s irritation with Malfoy had slowly been building up like a hot, simmering potion. And now, with each word Malfoy had spoken, it had finally reached its boiling point and erupted to the surface in one big sickening mess.

That something inside of Harry that had awakened with the Releaser and even had remained in him upon the Releaser�s removal, that barrier shielding his emotions surged up all around him. He hadn�t thought of it for a while, not really been aware of its presence, but now he could feel it clearly, and he treasured the fact that he still couldn�t experience that terrible grief tucked away somewhere.

There was a flaw, though: a leak in the barrier, a tiny opening that seemed to have allowed rage and anger to seep through it. It now tried to engulf him like icy waves in a storm.

He stood trembling as Malfoy�s wand joined his own; their eyes had locked � brown with a smouldering black, both showing faint traces of the emerald and grey they ought to be. Harry didn�t know how Malfoy made the colour brown look so cold, so dead. They mocked him openly, dared him to utter a curse, and just as he wanted to take them up on that dare, the lift doors opened again, and this time the cool female voice said, �Level One, House of The Minister for Magic, Protector of Wizarding Law and Well-being, and the International Statute of Secrecy.'

Malfoy held his head stiffly; he looked pale. His eyes flickered towards the hall just outside the lift doors. They were like shards of frozen ice, freezing but sharp. Their colour started to bleed into a silver-grey that betrayed Malfoy�s anxiety, and the longer they stood looking fixedly at each other, the more Malfoy�s features kept changing back into those familiar characteristics Harry knew so well.

�Do you really think�it would be a wise choice,� Malfoy said glancing at his wand and licking his lips nervously, ��with Aurors just one level below us?�

Harry exhaled slowly and closed his eyes, blocking Malfoy�s from view so he could concentrate. He needed to get himself under control; he couldn�t very well start a fight with Malfoy in the Ministry of all places, no matter what came out of his foul mouth. He thought suddenly of Hermione and what he imagined she would say to him if she had been there; It�s what he wants Harry, don�t�just don�t. He�s not worth it.

It was difficult, but bit by bit he forced himself to lower his wand, his arm still shaking.

�Here,� he said in a strained voice, throwing Malfoy�s square silver badge, which read Justin Finch-Fletchley, to see Rufus Scrimgeour, in his face, and stalked out of the elevator while pinning his own badge to his own robes.

He blindly strode onto the first level, through the hall, round the corner and collided with something squat and plump: a short witch with a large round face, large blue eyes and large bust that quivered like pudding as she hastily picked up scattered papers and files that had fallen out of her hands. She had the largest hair he had ever seen and he imaged Hermione would never feel embarrassed again if she witnessed this. Her hair was even whiter than Dumbledore�s beard used to be and probably as long, only standing straight up in large curls that reminded him of stacked toilet paper rolls. On each curl, tied ribbons twinkled in the light when she moved. Harry guessed she was trying to make up in length with her hair.

�I�m so sorry�third time it�s happened today�keep bumping into people � he�s asked me to file these specifically�got to run,� she said breathlessly without sparing him a glance, and before Harry could edge a word in, she had vanished around the corner, her absurdly big hair bouncing with every step.

�She�s forgotten something,� said Malfoy�s voice.

Malfoy stood a few paces behind him holding a black envelope in his hand, his silver badge gleaming on the front of his black robe. Harry walked up to him and snatched it out of his fingers angrily.

�We�ll be giving this back,� he snapped, and he put the envelope, which felt surprisingly heavy, into his backpack.

He peered around. They were standing in a very long and great corridor; the walls were tall and painted in a delicate sea-blue, and the hairy carpet underneath their feet glowed a rusty yellow. The scene reminded Harry of one of the many postcards Aunt Marge had sent Dudley when she had been on holiday in the Caribbean. He used to imagine himself on that beautiful beach far away from the Dursleys when he was younger, with an ocean so blue and clear he could count the fish. The image managed to hearten him a little, right until the image of uncle Vernon's sister in a small pink bikini crept into the picture and made him sick to the stomach.

He scowled at the blue walls, which were so high he only now discovered that huge paintings hung all the way up top, and as they walked further along the corridor without seeing a single door, he began to wonder if they were heading in the right direction. They had rounded so many corners that twisted and turned in all angles that it almost seemed impossible they were still within the walls of the Ministry.

After what felt like a ten-minute walk, they finally reached the end of the corridor. A dark wooden door with an iron knocker guarded the wall directly in front of him; it had a big silver plaque stuck in the middle that said 'Minister for Magic Offices' in big flamboyant letters. There was a small workbench to the right side of the door; a sign hovered above it that read in equally showy letters, �Assistant to the Minister for Magic�

�Well?� Malfoy asked impatiently.

Harry didn't answer, but took the knocker into his hand and rapped it against the door. Rather peculiar, and not at all what he had anticipated hearing, a loud gong resounded through the hallway, reverberating raucously.

�Come in,� a voice barked from behind the door.

Harry opened the door and stepped in followed by Malfoy. The Minister�s office resembled the hall in its twists and turns. To Harry it felt like stepping into a giant puzzle piece; not one wall was straight, each wall seemed to curve in or out and if there was a stretch of wall that was straight, it always slanted or stood at an odd angle.

The room was in complete disarray. Every piece of furniture seemed to be ambushed by files, rolls of parchments, newspaper clippings, books of all sizes, plates with half-eaten food or knocked-over goblets. The carpet might as well have been non-existent, for almost the entirety of the floor was covered under sheets of paper, on which graphs and diagrams were sketched. On the centre of the floor lay a huge map of Great Britain. A mixture of coloured pins was stuck in different areas with notes that had been scribbled to the side in an untidy, curly scrawl.

There was no one in sight. Harry looked around for another door that might bring them to the person who had called out to them, when suddenly something moved. In the very middle of the room, what Harry had mistaken for a pile of clutter stood a desk behind which a man sat looking at them owlishly from wire-rimmed spectacles. The Minister looked as if he had not shaved anytime this millennium, and compared to his normally scruffy appearance, Rufus Scrimgeour now looked like a caveman caught in the wrong era; his tawny mane had grown so wild that if anyone told Harry that the Minister had acquired it from a real lion, he would not have argued.

�Who's there? Where�s Celia!� the Minister growled, standing up furiously.

�The door was open. You�you told us to come in? Celia?� Harry asked confused.

�Celia, my assistant,� Scrimgeour said distantly, sitting back down on his chair. �Who are you?�

Harry frowned at him; he thought the Minister looked very distracted. �Harry Potter...remember? The Chosen One?�

Scrimgeour blinked, and a few seconds later his eyes seemed to focus. They latched on to Harry as if they only now just noticed him. �Oh, of course you are. Yes, of course. I see...� He paused then, looked at Malfoy, determined he wasn't important and ignored him, turning back to Harry. �Changed your mind, have you? Decided to stand by the Ministry after all...I must say it's for the best. Dumbledore, such a terrible...loss,� he said pretentiously, shaking his shaggy head. �It's not too late, Harry. If we were to work together we��

Any concern he had felt for Scrimgeour's behaviour dissipated, and Harry sensed the resentment he had experienced in the lift bubbling in his stomach like acid.

�I'm not planning on sugar-coating Voldemort�s return or lulling people into a false sense of safety just to make you look more competent!� he snapped. �I've told you this months ago, my opinion has not changed.�

Scrimgeour's expression hardened. �We need to stand united. The Ministry is doing everything in its power to��

�So Stan Shunpike's been released then?� Harry shot heatedly.

Scrimgeour didn't reply.

�That's what I thought.�

�Sometimes sacrifices need to be made. We are at war, now. Casualties happen,� said Scrimgeour, angrily slamming his fist on the desk.

�Casualties that you yourself created!� Harry exclaimed outraged. �The way you justify your actions...you're no better than Voldemort!� His voice echoed through the room as silence met his words. Only the sound of crackling fire in the rounded hearth that was fitted into an oval-shaped strip of wall and Malfoy's strangled little noise upon hearing Voldemort's name sounded through the office. Malfoy's face had paled considerably, and he was looking around nervously, as if expecting Voldemort to descend down on their heads.

�You just don't understand, do you?� Scrimgeour said after a while in a dangerous voice, fury visibly swivelling in his amber eyes. He stood up and walked around his desk. �You-Know-Who is more powerful than he ever was before, we can't afford to make any mistakes. The only way we can eliminate him is with power and I...posses...that power as the Minister for Magic. I will, as long as I have the vote of the people behind me!�

Harry looked at him in open disgust, and he snarled, �I refuse to be used in any part of your power games. You do whatever you think you must, Minister.�

�Then tell me, what is the reason for you visit, Potter?� Scrimgeour growled.

�The Ministry regulated the protection shield at Bill Weasley's wedding. I want to know what happened...� he said coldly, trying to control his anger and failing.

Scrimgeour's aversion shifted to utter bewilderment. Whatever it was he'd expected Harry to ask, this had not been it. �Bill Weasley's wedding? Arthur's son got married?�

Harry glared at him, incensed. Had there been a wedding? Scrimgeour couldn't be serious. There had been much more than a wedding. A massacre! �If this is some sick joke�� he started, but stopped when Scrimgeour's eyes widened suddenly as if he had just remembered something, and then his face went ashen grey. �Of course...the wedding. I see, yes...of course...� he said softly.

He rushed towards Harry, grabbed the front of his robes and whispered frantically, �I am to blame...the wedding...I did it.�

Harry was so shocked that he was stunned immobile.

Scrimgeour let go of him, rushed to the middle of the room and dropped to his knees, hastily gathering the huge map that lay on the floor into his arms. �It was me...all my fault, I am the one to blame,� he repeated. He hurried back to Harry, pushing the half-folded, half-crumpled map into his arms. �Take it...hide it. Quickly!�

�Minister...are you alright?� Harry asked confused. Scrimgeour didn't answer; instead, he started forcing the wrinkled map into his backpack.

Malfoy was looking at the Minister as if he was off his rocker as Harry started struggling against the wizard�s hold.

�It's all my fault. You need to have this. Take it!� There was such a desperate note in his voice, and his yellowish eyes were so wide and wild that Harry stopped moving.

�Something�s wrong, Potter. I don't like this. Let's get out of here,� said Malfoy nervously.

This was the first time Malfoy had ever made sense to him. But he couldn't just leave, not just yet. �What have you done? Who took off the protection shield?� he urged.

Scrimgeour stopped rummaging with his backpack, his hands shaking uncontrollably; he opened his mouth to say something, but at the same time the door ricocheted open, and the short witch with the large white hair bounded in.

�It's Celia. I've got your medicine ready, just needs a bit of-�

She took in the scene in front of her with a look of complete shock, her eyes drifting over the scar on Harry's face. �How��she breathed. �I told them explicitly to warn me if...� she glanced at the Minister and the backpack on Harry's back. It was still partially open, and a piece of the map was visible under the flap. �You can't take that, that�s Ministry property!� she squealed.

�The Minister gave it to me,� Harry said defensively.

�He's not well, he�he needs to take his medicine,� she stammered, fussing with her robes and extracting a bottle that held a heliotrope-purple liquid. As soon as Scrimgeour noticed the bottle, he let go of Harry's bag and snatched the bottle out of the witch�es hand. He unstopped it and feverishly started drinking the concoction.

�What are you giving him,� Harry demanded when Scrimgeour started swaying from side to side, his face oddly blank.

�Just something for his headaches,� she said quickly, avoiding looking in his eyes. �I need that map back, young man.�

Harry ignored her. �Minister, are you okay? You were about to tell me something. I need to know who took off the protection shield.�

At that, Celia stiffened, and her demeanour turned cold instantly. �What has he told you?� she demanded crisply.

�Nothing, but he was about to tell me something important...I just know it.� Harry wasn't looking at her; he hadn't noticed her change. He had eyes only for the Minister, who was now peering around as if he didn't know his own office.

�Potter, I think we ought to leave. I think we ought to leave right now!� urged Malfoy's voice uneasily.

But Harry walked up to Scrimgeour and grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him slightly. �Minister, what happened at the wedding? You need to tell me. It's important!�

Scrimgeour looked up at him as if he had not seen him before. �Oh hello, who are you?� he asked in a pleasant voice.

�P-Potter!� Malfoy said again, definitely more anxious this time.

�Shut up, Malfoy! I'm trying to concentrate,� Harry snapped at him as he looked at Scrimgeour in dismay. He was sure Scrimgeour had been on the point of telling him something crucial before that witch had walked in.

�What did you do to him!� he demanded, rounding on the Minister's assistant when Scrimgeour seemed to have forgotten he had asked a question and stared off into space. But when he turned around to look at her, he found her across the room near the door, and her wand was aimed at him and Malfoy, who had managed to get behind him without his notice.

�I told you, it�s for his headaches,� Celia said coldly.

�What are you doing?�

Celia said nothing; instead, she shot bright sparks at an object that hung above the door; it started flashing red light like the lights on an ambulance.

�Why didn't you say anything,� Harry said to Malfoy between gritted teeth.

�I did! Multiple attempts, actually, that � might I add � you completely ignored. This is once again all your fault!� hissed Malfoy in his ear, standing close behind him.

�Maybe if you had mentioned a crazy witch that had a wand pointed at us, I would have paid more attention!�

�Oh, that's such a good idea. Next time I'll try to remember to broadcast it so that it will warn you and her at the same time!� Malfoy said sarcastically. �I can't believe you're blaming me for-�

�Well, why didn't you try to stop her?� he demanded irrationally.

�I'm not the hero here, Potter. That's your job! Or are all those great stories that have gone through Hogwarts about you battling You-Know-Who supposed to be fairy tales now? I, of course, knew they were rubbish all along-�

�Do you always talk so much when you're scared? Harry snapped annoyed.

�Scared!� Malfoy shrieked scandalised. �I'm not scared, I��

�Be � quiet!� Celia commanded abruptly. Harry felt Malfoy jump. �And no sudden movements,� she added when Harry made to grab for his wand. �Soon the Aurors will be here, that's a silent alarm I've set off.� And no sooner had she finished than the door shot open, and Nymphadora Tonks burst through the door followed by an Auror Harry recognised as Dawlish.

�What's going on in here? Harry, what are you doing here?� Tonks asked confused, lowering her wand at once and looking at him in surprise.

�These culprits need to be apprehended,� Celia answered for him. �I've caught them red-handed. They tried to steal classified information from the Minister�s Office!� Celia informed Tonks.

�That's not true, she's lying!� Harry shouted in disbelief at Celia's lies. His hands clenched into fists, and he took a step forward.

�Can you explain, then, why you have the Minister's map in your bag?� Celia said triumphantly.

�He gave it to me!� he said angrily, but as he said it he knew it sounded pretty far-fetched, and he couldn't blame Tonks for looking at him doubtfully. �I swear, Tonks...you've got to believe me. I didn't��

Tonks turned towards Rufus Scrimgeour, who was still just looking around absently. �Minister, did these two men steal anything from you, sir?�

�They did, didn't they?� Celia said at once. �Your map, they took it. You saw them, didn't you?� she continued looking into his eyes.

�Celia?� Scrimgeour said softly.

�Yes, it's me. You don't have to worry anymore. I called the Aurors.� She turned to Tonks. �He's not feeling so well today. Still grieving, which is only natural. It's terrible what happened to his wife,� Celia said, shaking her head sadly; Tonks nodded.

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. �He's not well because you...poisoned him!� he shouted, losing his temper.

�Those are some serious accusations,� Dawlish cut in brusquely. His voice was sharp, clear and commanding.

�It's true, look... the bottle, it's in his�� But it wasn't in his hand. He glanced around wildly, but the bottle was nowhere in sight. �She took it! I'm telling you, she took the bottle!�

Dawlish looked at him sceptically. �That's enough, Potter. Who's your friend?�

�This is...M-Justin...I mean Justin Finch-Fletchley.� Harry felt Malfoy stiffen behind him; he hoped feverishly Malfoy would keep his concentration. If he were to have a glitch now...

�Finch-Fletchley, is it?� Dawlish asked Malfoy dubiously.

�Yes,� Malfoy's voice sounded from behind him, surprisingly steady.

�And, Justin Finch-Fletchley, why are you here?�

�Obviously, to visit the Minister. I thought Aurors were supposed to be able to read at least, if nothing else. I've noticed you looking at my badge,� he said scathingly.

Harry wanted to hit him. What was Malfoy thinking? He was not helping the situation. This was no time for his witty remarks. Dawlish seemed to agree with him, for his expression darkened.

�Right. You two will be coming to the Auror department for questioning. Tonks?�

Tonks was looking at Harry intently, her hair and eyes an electric blue. She glanced at the fireplace and then back at him; her eyes seemed to want to burn a hole through his head.

�Tonks?� Dawlish cut in again.

�Yes...right. Finch-Fletchley and Potter, you will have to come with us.� She walked towards them, wand aimed straight at them. She was still looking at him as if she was trying to tell him something, her eyes again trailing back to the burning hearth. Harry stood dumbfounded � Tonks couldn't actually believe he'd stolen something, could she?

�Tonks, what are you doing...She's lying!� he said, taking a step backwards.

�Just stay calm and cooperate, I'm sure everything will be just...fine,� she said. �Stup��

Then she seemed to trip over the hem of her robe and fell towards the ground, taking with her an unsuspecting Dawlish, who had followed on her heel, and knocking his wand out of his outstretched arm. Dawlish let out a surprised yell, and Celia looked at the incident in disbelief. Tonks's wand arm wavered wildly as she fell backwards, and the Stunning Spell that had been on her lips connected with Celia instead of Harry, who slumped to the floor instantly.

Harry understood.

He grabbed Malfoy, who was gaping at what was happening, by the arm and dragged him over to the fireplace. He noted that his eyes were ice-grey again, but it was such a subtle difference that you'd only notice if you were up close and looking for it,so it was no wonder Dawlish, Tonks and Celia hadn't noticed. He grabbed a handful of the Floo-Powder that stood in a small bowl on the mantelpiece and threw it into the fire.

�They are getting away!� roared Dawlish, who pushed Tonks off him hastily. He grabbed his wand from between the clutter and aimed it at them. But he was too late. Harry had already shoved Malfoy into the fire and was standing next to him. The red light of the Stunner from Dawlish's wand was flying straight at them as he, for some reason, was oddly reminded of the first time he ever travelled by Floo and yelled, �Knockturn Alley!�

And he and Malfoy vanished in a cloud of green smoke.
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