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“Are you certain about this, Lucius?”
“Of course, Dederick. The Dark Lord’s way of doing things may have been a mistake, but we must still fight to protect the purity of our world! And this new werewolf law is a threat to that purity. If we want to keep it from passing, we need more votes. I still have a few contacts, and enough money to… persuade some of the more neutral Wizengamot members.” He jingled the fair-sized pouch filled with galleons. “One of those contacts should be here any minute, now.”
“And we’re meeting him here? In the Muggle world?!”
“There are too many eyes in Diagon Alley, and it’s not like the Leaky Cauldron is that far away.”
Dederick Parkinson frowned, but acquiesced the other man’s point. The two purebloods were waiting in an alley a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron, looking in disdain at their dirty, filthy surroundings. Parkinson had drawn a lot of odd looks, as he’d walked there while wearing a dark blue bathrobe over a white ski suit. Malfoy, at least, seemed to have done some research, as his suit and hat may have been a decade or so out of date, but in its time, it would have been the perfect ensemble for a man of his age and wealth.
They were waiting in awkward silence for less than ten minutes, the only sounds being the sounds of Muggle society on the nearby street and the jingling of coins as Malfoy absently passed the pouch from one hand to the other, when they were finally joined by a third man.
But it wasn’t the third man they were expecting.
“Put your hands up slowly,” the ratty-looking Muggle ordered them, waving some kind of small metal… thing in his hand, “And give me all your valuables!”
Malfoy scowled down his nose at the Muggle. “You cannot be serious. Why on Earth would I do that?”
“‘Cause I’ll blow your bloody head off if you don’t!” The Muggle waved his hand at them again, this time with some jabbing motions in Malfoy’s direction.
Parkinson rolled his eyes at the Muggle. This wasn’t worth their time. “Listen, you little rat,” he snarled, reaching for his wand, “I’ll give you five-”
BANG!
Both wizards jumped as the loud noise, even louder than the crack of Apparition, rang through the alley, and then Parkinson fell over, clutching at his leg, which now had a bleeding hole in it. Malfoy went for his wand, only for another loud bang to sound and a hole to suddenly open up in his stomach.
As both men were still reeling from their injuries, and from the fact that the Muggle had somehow dealt them without even touching them, the man in question scooped up the fallen bag of Galleons, and the few that had spilled out, and took off.
Harry sighed, hanging his coat on the hook by the door and dropping his briefcase on the closest side table. Then he trudged into the kitchen and slumped down into the nearest chair.
“Rough day?” his wife’s voice asked.
Harry looked up and saw Ginny sitting at the other end of the table, twisted sideways so that her swollen belly wasn’t pressed up against said table. She had a steaming mug of whatever disgusting drink she’d been craving this week by her elbow, and a quill, ink, and parchment in front of her – her last article for the Prophet before she went on maternity leave.
“You wouldn’t believe what I had to deal with today,” he groaned, “Lucius Bloody Malfoy and Dederick Parkinson wandered out into Muggle London and got mugged and shot.”
Ginny blinked. “Did you get hit with a Confundus Charm on your way home?”
“I wish. I don’t know what they were doing out there, but I doubt it was legal. What I do know is that a criminal threatened them with a gun, and they were too oblivious about the Muggle world to even know what a gun is, so they went for their wands when he wouldn’t go away when they told him to. And they both got shot for their troubles. Parkinson was able to Apparate to St. Mungo’s, though he Splinched himself and left his uninjured leg behind, and told the Healers – who told us – where to find Malfoy. The healers were able to save both of them, but we had to deal with the Muggle authorities, track down the mugger, and Obliviate him and the man he was going to fence the stolen Galleons to! And then the paperwork!” He sighed and let his head thunk down on the table.
Whether they were running around as Death Eaters or not, Malfoys were going to be the death of him.