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Harry really hated the castle’s dungeons. They were cold and musty and humid. But needs must. He has been following Malfoy for some weeks now, and even though it hasn’t born any results, he must continue doing it.
Hermione and Ron, nicely of course, told him he was overreacting. He couldn’t blame them, after all they did help him the first few weeks, but after finding absolutely nothing incriminating, they stopped and now they were trying to make him see reason.
But, he couldn’t.
He couldn’t explain it, there was just something about him that pinged all of his alarms. The shifty eyes, the neglected uniform, the paler than his ghostly-pale skin, Malfoy wasn’t acting as his usual self. And, taking into account that every weird thing that happened in Hogwarts was either related to Voldemort or another possibly life-threatening situation, he wasn’t taking any chances. Plus, one couldn’t simply forget last year. He couldn’t forget last year, oh god, Sirius…
Harry noticed he was falling behind and quickly used the marauders map to see where Malfoy went. ‘There’, his eyes tracked the tiny footsteps that took a unused path to a room a little to the southeast from his position. He put away the map and, grabbing his invisibility cloak closer, went to said room.
Using an extendable ear, he heard someone pacing, ‘that would be Malfoy’, he thought, ‘now, the question is, why is he alone at this hour in some remote room?’. This broke his usual pattern. Usually, he was either with his friends, in class, or in his common room. Unlike his friends and he, the blond ponce rarely went exploring the castle, sticking to the well-travelled places in it. But, there was he now. Alone.
He must have been too focused on analyzing his actions, because he didn’t have time to react before the door opened. Harry felt head-first inside, someone snatching his cloak and leaving him visible. Lifting his head, he saw angry grey eyes and a sneer in a too pale face. “Malfoy”
“Potter”, he spited out, “what are you following me?”.
“Shouldn’t you know?” Snarled Harry, getting up and putting some distant between them. “I just can’t help myself when I see some suspicious activity, especially as I saw daddy dearest finally being with his master, did-“
“DO NOT Speak about my father like that.”
“What, aren’t you happy with it? One would think, after all this years, you would be satisfied about him being back.” Harry eyed his cloak, still in Malfoy’s trembling hands. “Or did Voldemort not live to your expectations? You know what they said, never met your heroes. So, how is it then? Does he now summon everyone of your merry murderous band to Sunday evening parties, drinking the blood of innocents, perhaps making dark sacrifices as a little after-diner treat?”.
“SHUT UP!” Malfoy exploded, “What do you know about sacrifices? You are just a spoiled, noisy, little boy who has nothing to do except inserting your nose into everyone else’s business. You don’t know me, you don’t know anything. So, get out and. Leave. Me. Alone.” He was panting at the end, chest heaving and trembling with rage. Harry so an opportunity, one so crazy he believed Hermione and Ron would later kill him, if it didn’t first. But, he couldn’t resist.
“Okay, then.” He smirked, “Show me.”
————
“What the bloody hell are you doing? Better yet, why am I helping you?”
“Quit your whining, Malfoy,” Potter shushed him, “and help me with this.”
He was insane, that was the only explanation. Who hears his enemy rant about how awful having one’s house invaded by a dark lord was and then propose to infiltrate said house? Potter, that’s who. It was madness, and hell if he didn’t feel a ray of hope, little as it was.
Draco was exhausted. He knew the stakes if he didn’t complete his mission and, by the gods, he knew the odds weren’t by his side. The Dark Lord assigned it knowing he didn’t stand a chance against Dumbledore, he just wanted to torment his father. His mother’s and his suffering were just the icing to the cake. So, when he heard his imposible rival say that he would defeat him and free them, his traitorous heart skipped a beat. How he longed for safety, at least just a little bit.
It was Potter, gods knew he lived like his veins contained Felix Felicis instead of blood. If anyone could kill the Dark Lord, it would be this deranged boy. And he’ll help him do it, damn him but he will.
And so, they planned. The Dark Lord took the master bedroom in the left wing of the third floor, while his mother moved to be in the farthest bedroom from it. She almost never leaves it. Father…,well, he wasn’t there. The Dark Lord rarely went outside the house, using the various meeting rooms and parlors located mainly on the first floor when he needed to call his subordinates. Some of them even moved to live in the house. Aunt Bella, her husband and his brother occupied the rooms near their lord.
Potter pointed at the bathrooms in the rudimentary map of his house that he drew. “I got an idea, here, where are the pipes? Or, do they even exist? How does an ancient manor operates, like, do water just appears? How do you heat it?”
“Of course there are pipes, we aren’t uncivilized.” Draco sniffed in indignation, honestly, the nerve of that one. “There is a pipe system with runes carved on it to make it the perfect temperature, it connects with a water tank outside that the elves are in charge of maintaining it.”
Potter hummed. “Interesting, and, say, is there a time where the water isn’t used? Like, for an hour or so. And, is there a big enough room with a hard-to-open locking mechanism?”
Draco stared bewildered at the other, blinked and asked lady magic for patience, and said, “I don’t know, I tried to avoid them when I could, but generally everyone gathers for lunch in the dining room at 1. The Dark Lord likes to eat while the death eaters watch, then he asks them to report. Those doors can be controlled through the wards, as they were previously a safe room for the family.”
Potter quickly searched for the dinning room in the map, founding it in the first floor. Then, he looked for the nearest bathroom. Fortunately, he found two of them just on top of it, on the second floor. “Do the pipes run through the dining room’s walls?”
“How would I know? The house was constructed centuries ago and I haven’t bother to search for the plumbing plan, of all things.” Draco angrily answered, feeling a little bit lost. He couldn’t imagine what Potter was planning using such information, was he trying to kill the Dark Lord with pipes and dirty water?
Potter considered the map and quickly stood up. Draco was startled and moved backwards. Then, Potter said “well, I got the barebones of the plan, now it is time for Hermione and Ron to make it happen.”
“What??? You want to involved Granger and the weasel??? What for? And you don’t even have a plan?? We are doomed, I just can’t-“
“It’ll be alright, and I have a plan, but I’m not a genius. I come with an hair-brain idea, Hermione puts the technical details so it can be realistically done and Ron whacks our heads and functions as our common sense so we don’t get killed because of our stupidity. It’s a tried-and-tested procedure.” With that, Potter turned and strided to the room’s door.
“Oh, and also, Hermione knows how to make toxic gases with basic house materials.”
———-
“So you planned all of this in just one afternoon?”
“Uhuh”
“And you expect us to carry on with it?”
“Mmmhhm.”
“You are impossible.”
Harry sheepishly smiled at an exasperated Hermione, but was happy knowing that she had all but gave him the green light to continue.
Hermione rolled her eyes, she didn’t understand where her life became like a young-adult novel. Still, she wouldn’t have it any other way. Ron was at her side, eyeing the map Harry extended on the table.
They were doing this, she thought, killing Voldemort this weekend, just like that. She just needed to gather the last materials and then let Ron talk with the twins for a set of magical walkie-talkies. She snorted, if anyone knew how to manipulate the twins to create something new out of wounded pride and spite was Ron.
They were ready, just a few details more and Voldemort would be gone for good.
———-
They arrived earlier than dawn. Malfoy and Harry went to talk to the elves, while Hermione and Ron went to the water tank and the main dining room. They finished with the preparations and then left to wake up and retrieve Mrs. Malfoy. When the clock struck 1:00 p.m. and the Dark Lord and his court sat on the table, everything was ready.
Voldemort smirked, as he watched his death eaters squirm like worms on their seats, sweating like the pigs they were. Watch them, the proud lords and ladies, once sneering at him and now bowing to his mere whims. Lunch that day was particularly pleasing, the roasted niffler with berry sauce made the room smell sweet and the carefully hidden envious faces of some of his servants created such a wonderful feeling.
His pupils dilated and his heart pounded with force. So unusual, he felt giddy. He decided to terrify them some more, throwing his plate towards them and standing on shaking feet.
“Crucio”. He nasally said, aiming at the fleeing cowards. An euphoric feeling run through his veins, breathing coming harshly as he pursued them, corralling them as they banged desperately at the doors. He saw some of them falling, and decided to spice up his spells. Soon, almost everyone was laying on pools of blood in front of the door.
Voldemort panted, vision blurring as the high he was feeling faded slowly. His lungs were burning, he now noticed. He felt nauseous, falling into one of the seats. He coughed, and when he saw his hand covered in blood, he began to feel terrified.
Panic enveloping his thoughts, he stood and step backwards, as if distancing himself from the situation. ‘Cast a spell, any spell’, he thought. His hand shook. Shortly, he couldn’t feel his legs anymore, falling to the ground.
‘Not like this’, he desperately thought, ‘not like this’.
Then he stilled, his body starting to disintegrate. Lord Voldemort was no more.
——-
“WHAT??!!”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Potter, but Tom isn’t yet gone. In his fear of death, I’m afraid he has taken measures beyond any wizard to stay alive. I suspected when I saw young Riddle’s diary, but now I’m certain he made several of them. Horocruxes, terrible things created by terrible people, to break one’s soul and contain it as to escape one’s death.”
Harry looked at Ron and then at Hermione, well then, it looks like they will soon go on a road-trip. They just needed to retrieve one stubborn blond. Doesn’t he know that sharing life-ending experiences was how they created unbreakable bonds? Well, it didn’t matter, soon he’ll learn.
Harry smiled and looked at his friends. “Do you think these Horocruxes can be tracked?” The others just grinned back at him, a baffled Dumbledore looking incredulously in the background. Man, what a way to live.