Chapter 123: 7-2

Draco Malfoy had always thought that the sheer nerve of the prodigy accompanying the hero might actually surpass that of the hero himself.

"I brought him, Harry."

"Draco!"

He caught Harry, who had rushed over and practically thrown himself at him. To have his name called out, to have the Harry Potter reaching out to him so desperately—even now, Draco couldn't help but wonder if he was dreaming. —Since that day, living a long dream by the side of the "Hero."

And then, catching a glimpse of that familiar mischievous spark in the hazel eyes of the red-haired girl, he would truly process that this was reality.

"What's wrong, Harry?"

He patted the messy black hair. Harry, his round eyes wide, pierced Draco with a fierce, glowing emerald gaze.

"—Do you know where Maria is?!"

"....Huh?"

Dinner was over, and the sky was just about to fully surrender to the night. It must have been around seven or eight o'clock—regardless, they had left Andromeda's safe house around noon yesterday. Even considering a detour via Privet Drive, this was far too late. Was Sirius Black holding her up?

Glancing around the empty classroom he had been dragged into and taking stock of the people present, Draco gripped Harry's shoulders.

"Explain it to me. Maria hasn't returned yet?"

"Yeah—yeah. I saw it—Maria has been captured by Voldemort!"

Hiss—. A sound like a failed dry cough escaped Draco's throat. His eyes clearly reflected terror. The ice-gray lost its color and warmth. Cold—so cold—like the frozen bottom of a lake.

"...Are you sure about that? Did you check with Sirius?"

"I did! Already! I broke the two-way mirror, but a shard still worked perfectly. Sirius said he hasn't seen Maria."

"...I see."

At Draco's noncommittal response, Harry threw a tantrum, stamping his feet in frustration. Why don't you understand, Maria is in danger! As Harry shouted, Ron agreed, glaring at Draco and Hermione as if looking at cold-blooded, ruthless monsters. Ginny and Luna maintained a heavy silence. (Well, no, Luna was just staring off into space.) Neville was completely pale.

Everyone shared the same worry for Maria. However, Draco and Hermione's reason for hesitation was identical. —Was this not a trap, showing a hallucination of Maria to lure Harry into the Department of Mysteries?

That was precisely the failure from the "previous time," as "he" had called it. "He" had dragged that guilt with him forever. ...Even now.

Was this merely the result of Harry's most precious person shifting from "Sirius" to "Maria"?

And one more thing. Draco alone harbored this doubt. No, it was a sense of incongruity only Draco could recognize. —Would that "Harry" really fall behind against just a handful of Death Eaters?

If Voldemort himself had shown up, it might be a different story. And even factoring in the handicap with her wand, would she—someone holding the memories of a hero—be so easily abducted?

Draco just couldn't make sense of it. To Draco, who knew "Harry Potter," the girl named Maria was a hero who harbored a ferocious snake and lion within her. Even if she wasn't the hero in this world—she wasn't a damsel crying for help and waiting to be protected; she was a hero who would keep moving forward even while coughing up blood.

And that was exactly what Draco missed, resented, and hated about her.

"—Fine, forget it."

Draco gasped, snapping out of the swirling vortex of his thoughts. Harry spat the words out coldly.

"I'll go by myself. She's my sister."

"I'm going too."

Ginny replied without missing a beat. She stared at Harry with those strong, determined eyes that Maria so loved.

"She's my older sister, after all."

"—And she's my best friend."

Another redhead stepped up to Harry's side.

"I-I—I'm going too. As long as Maria believes in me, I can stand. This is what the D.A. is for."

Everyone looked at Neville in surprise. Though Neville still looked pale, he wasn't trembling.

"Maria... she strips Harry of his confidence, but she's the kind of person who can give it all to Neville in return, isn't she?"

Ginny let out a soft chuckle.

"Right then, sorry Luna, but could you take a message to Professor McGonagall—"

"Oh, I'm going too."

The eyes that had been on Neville now drifted to Luna. Luna merely tilted her head in her airy way, her eyes as vacant and dreamy as ever. She had a look that said she couldn't understand why she was being left out. There was even a good chance she didn't grasp the severity of the situation at all.

"But you aren't even that close with Maria, are you? This isn't a game, Luna. We're all risking our lives."

At Ginny's harsh words, Luna slowly shook her head. To Draco, it just looked like she was trying to shake off sleep.

"I like Maria. Because she praised me. She told me The Quibbler is brilliant."

Luna smiled, looking utterly satisfied. It was the kind of smile that made you just want to throw your hands up and say, 'whatever happens, happens.' Draco felt like he had just witnessed the exact reason why Luna and Ginny, despite their completely opposite personalities, could be friends.

Finally, all eyes gathered on Draco and Hermione. Hermione was flustered.

"Wait, look, is this really, truly the right thing to do? Can you say for sure it's not a trap? If Harry gets caught because of this—then what on earth will happen to Maria?"

Before a furious Harry could even open his mouth to snap back—the boy beside him unfolded a piece of paper and answered the girl's question.

"No, this is a trap. —Maria has been captured."

On the worn piece of parchment, a bizarre pattern had surfaced, looking exactly as if someone had smeared ink all over their palm and clenched it tightly.

—Please, let Draco realize it. I desperately moved my hands, bound behind my back, to crush the enchanted parchment in my grip. The old scar I had sliced straight across with a shard of the two-way mirror had just begun to form fresh, healing flesh, only to be ruthlessly gouged open again by my own fingernails, reverting it to a bleeding wound. Of course, it hurt. But I couldn't afford to be picky about my methods.

The type of ink used for the enchanted parchment didn't matter. As long as it transferred to the paper, it was fine. Which meant—blood would do just fine.

How long had I been restrained? Stripped of my wand and hit with a Silencio, I could only move my eyes widely to look around. —This wasn't the Department of Mysteries. It was a manor somewhere. Why? If the goal was simply to lure Harry, it would have been much faster to toss me into the Department of Mysteries and show Harry that vision.

"!"

The door opened. Click. The sound of leather shoes. I knew those shoes. They belonged to the man who had grabbed my arm and Apparated—Lucius Malfoy's shoes.

There was no one else around. Lucius was the only one standing at the door.

"Finite."

Lucius gave his wand a flick. I felt as though even breathing became a little easier.

"...What is the meaning of this?"

"The Dark Lord is waiting."

He shoved his hands under my arms and hauled me to my feet. Lucius's long hair flowed down over my shoulders and neck. —It was so much like Draco's. Soft, fine, and ephemeral.

"...Why didn't you run?"

Lucius whispered into my ear as he assisted—no, restrained—me, unable as I was to use my hands freely. I found myself thinking that such a doll-like, beautiful face was producing an awfully human-sounding voice.

"You're one to talk—how did you...?"

When did he notice my presence? From where had he been watching—watching me?

"I was not watching you."

Lucius flatly denied it. It sounded almost like a disgust-filled rejection, warning me not to flatter myself.

"I was watching my son."

"......"

"I was following Draco, and Draco alone."

Ah—

I clenched the enchanted parchment tighter. How frustrating. I wanted to tell him right this second. Lucius—Lucius Malfoy cared about you this much—

Now I was even more unable to run away. I couldn't let Lucius become a "failure" just yet. —Draco was the one who had to do that.

Draco had told me bitterly that, this time around, Lucius was trusted far more by Voldemort than in the "previous time." The proof was that during the summer of our second year, Voldemort had come defenseless to Malfoy Manor using a servant's body.

Not yet, not yet. I still had to let Lucius function as Voldemort's right hand.

If it hadn't been you who grabbed my hand—I could have just abandoned you.

I was brought to a halt before a door adorned with slithering snakes. It somehow reminded me of the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. Though it didn't seem like I would need to hiss 'Open' in Parseltongue.

"My Lord—I have brought the girl, as requested."

After striking the knocker, Lucius called out reverently to the other side of the door. The door—swung open.

"This is the second time we are meeting face-to-face like this, is it not? —Maria."

The moment I saw that snakelike face, I was struck by a dull, throbbing pain from a scar that shouldn't exist. It was just my imagination. I knew that. Maria didn't have a scar on her forehead. —But how could anyone remain calm in front of this monster?

—In front of my archnemesis.

"Voldemort—!"

Instantly, a vicious slap flew at me. It was Bellatrix Lestrange, waiting at Voldemort's side. Mercilessly, without holding back in the slightest, Bellatrix delivered two or three more stinging backhands. She even grabbed me by the hair; it was brutally violent.

"Which mouth dared to speak the Dark Lord's name? Eh? With this—filthy—half-blood tongue!"

"Bellatrix, we are in the presence of our Lord."

"It is fine, Lucius. But really, Bella? We must take exceedingly good care of her eyes and tongue—"

My bangs were roughly released, causing my head to snap back exaggeratedly. Drops of a nosebleed pattered violently onto the floor.

"But, My Lord... truly, this little girl—?"

"Do you doubt my words, Bellatrix?"

"I would never—! I would absolutely never—! Oh, My Lord..."

Bellatrix dropped to her knees on the floor. It looked like a sinner confessing to her god. And rightfully so—to Bellatrix, Voldemort was exactly that. A god.

"Now then, Maria."

Ignoring the groveling Bellatrix, Voldemort looked at me. I glared back at him. The nosebleed trickled down, spreading the metallic taste of iron in my mouth.

"I can't retrieve Harry's prophecy for you. —After all, I'm not the 'Girl Who Lived.'"

As I spoke up to beat him to the punch, Bellatrix glared at me, her eyes swiveling toward me with uncanny dexterity even while keeping her head bowed. The sheer intensity was staggering, especially given her inherent Black family beauty. She shared neither Narcissa's cold elegance nor Andromeda's gentle smile, yet she undeniably exuded the same bloodline. Beside me, Lucius had reverted to his porcelain doll-like face.

"Ah. That is fine. I fully intend to have him retrieve it himself."

At Voldemort's words, I inadvertently dropped my stubborn poker face and stared at him. Was I not the bait for Harry? If so, why was I here in front of him instead of the Department of Mysteries...?

Voldemort smiled thinly, looking remarkably like a teacher standing before a truly promising student.

"Under what conditions do you make your prophesying Visions?"

"......"

I froze. The pat-pat sound of blood dripping from my chin brought me back to my senses. Don't tell me—don't tell me—this monster had found value in Maria as a "Seer"?

Ah—how ridiculous—what an absolute fool!

"Ha—ha, haha—hahaha, a prophecy? Me?"

Laughter bubbled up inside me. I couldn't help it. Idiots. Absolute morons. Every last one of them. Incompetent fools jumping to conclusions. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Prophecies are—nonsense."

When I spat those words, Voldemort narrowed his blood-red eyes and stroked his wand with a thoughtful "Hmm."

"Oh, but fine. I'll give you one. Voldemort, here is a prophecy just for you. You'd better listen closely. —You will be destroyed. You cannot beat Harry. You will never win. You are going to lose to Harry. You will be defeated by the pitiful, tiny little boy that you yourself chose!!"

"—Crucio!"

An agony so severe struck me that it left me speechless, wondering how such pain could even exist in this world. It felt like my entire body was being repeatedly stabbed. Like I was being roasted by a roaring fire from the inside out. It was as if the very concept of "pain" was being violently hammered directly into my brain.

Eventually, the curse was lifted, but my mind and body were left in a state of sheer stupor, having endured my first torture in Maria's body.

"Ugh, ah... guh..."

"Hoh, managing to hold onto your sanity, are we? My, my... how irritatingly alike you siblings are."

The brother to Harry's wand traced up the center of my throat. I was forced to tilt my head up. My eyes met red.

I—

".........pit..i..ful."

"Hmm?"

"...You.. are.. pit...iful. A pitiful... creature. A lonely... child... who knows nothing of love. You're... nothing but... a mere child. —Gah!"

I was brutally backhanded across the face. Defenselessly sent flying, I crashed hard against Lucius's legs. Lucius didn't flinch an inch.

"...Take her away. To the Department of Mysteries. Make the preparations for a touching reunion with her brother. —If she stays here, I might lose myself and kill her outright."

As my consciousness faded, I was still smiling. I could feel it from somewhere far away. I had no physical strength left, so my eyes were closed, but I still felt my lips twisting into a distorted grin.

Because. Listen. That voice.

Voldemort's voice.

A cloth was thrown over me. It felt like running water—an Invisibility Cloak. My five senses were gradually swallowed by the dark. With my hearing being the last to go, I plunged into the abyss.

Your voice—it sounded exactly like a sulking child's.

Poor, pitiful Tom Riddle, who knows nothing of love.

Who could possibly blame Draco for standing completely paralyzed before the dark forest? Past traumas were flashing through his mind like a revolving lantern.

"You can see the Thestrals too, can't you? Hurry up and get on."

Luna looked down at Draco, her dirty-blonde hair fluttering airily in the breeze. If you only looked at the silhouette, she resembled a princess riding a white stallion, yet the whole thing looked like a third-rate play where both the horse and the princess were hastily cobbled together.

Thanks to Ginny's quick thinking, they were luring the Thestrals out one after another using raw, unbled meat procured from the kitchens. There was only one left, intended for Neville to ride.

"Come to think of it, Draco, you're not fond of the Forbidden Forest, are you? Even in Hagrid's classes, you always look a little—actually, very—disgusted, don't you?"

Hermione muttered this while gingerly patting the steed she had just mounted—a horse that was invisible to her, a Thestral. This girl really notices the most unnecessary things—had he been his usual self, Draco Malfoy would have instantly fired back a snarky retort. Though, if he did, he was guaranteed to receive a closed fist from her in return.

"Treating a forest like this as one's own backyard is a job best left to a certain gamekeeper who treats literal monsters like babies."

When he grumbled this, Ron, who had been listening nearby, burst out laughing. Hermione shot Ron an accusatory glare.

"Look, Neville's is here. ...Oh, there are two."

A dreamy, vaguely wavering, yet remarkably clear voice echoed toward the depths of the forest. It was Luna's voice. Looking over, two Thestrals lured by the meat Ginny was holding were peeking their hollow, blank eyes out from the shadows. Looking thoroughly irritated, Harry rushed Neville.

"Whichever one is fine, just hurry—"

"Oh my, then I suppose that makes the numbers perfectly even."

It was an entirely new, third-party voice. Everyone turned around. She was smiling gracefully, her beautiful black hair cascading over her shoulders.

"I'm going too. Maria is in trouble, isn't she?"

The girl who, according to "Harry Potter," was actually a crybaby, stood there with her feet planted firmly on the ground. Her gaze was filled with staunch determination.

"You..."

"—Yeah. Let's go. You too."

"Draco!"

Ignoring Hermione's shout, Draco leaped up onto his mount. He whispered their destination to the Thestral. One by one, Harry and the others' Thestrals followed suit. Eight shadows, carried by eight steeds visible only to those who could see them, took flight across the night sky.

Surely—surely you won't forgive me. For dragging him into this. For dragging her into this. But still.

No matter what I have to sacrifice—I have decided to protect the things I love.