All Kinds of Directions

Draco Malfoy sat rigidly on the hard wooden chair. He was staring at nothing, not because he was deeply lost in thought but because there was nothing worth looking at. The room he was in had nothing but a few chairs and a single desk, and the walls were old, bare stone, covered with the grime of centuries. Nothing at all like the warm, familiar confines of Malfoy Manor, which he hadn’t seen in months.

Death Eaters came and went frequently, past the open door or into the room and out again. Draco would have liked to participate in their busy-work…just to have something to do. After Draco’s failure to eliminate Dumbledore the Dark Lord had made it clear—painfully, shockingly clear—that Draco was not worthy. So he was forced to sit in hiding, until such time as the Dark Lord decided to allow him another chance.

A cold rush of air and a hideous, horrible feeling filled Draco all at once, and he didn’t need look up in order to know that a Dementor had floated past the door. Even more than the Dark Lord, Draco feared the Dementors and what they could do—he understood, now, why Potter had been so petrified of them.

Draco bit his lip as images flashed through his mind, brought on by the proximity to the Dementors, no doubt. His father, mostly, and Draco hated thinking of the late Lucius Malfoy now. He regretted his father’s death, even mourned him (as any dutiful son would), but mainly Draco was angry—angry that Lucius had never made it clear what joining the ranks of the Dark Lord really meant.

And Draco’s mother…Draco missed her more than he’d ever admit. Narcissa Malfoy had been as doting a mother as there ever was, which Draco was forced to admit had a lot to do with his…sheltered view of the world. But she loved him dearly, it was clear, and he loved her, and he hated thinking that she was alone in that huge manor, mourning the death of her husband and the fugitive status of her son.

Draco squelched the thought before it went too far. He never knew when the Dark Lord might be present, listening to his thoughts; it was bad enough that his mother was being held over him as incentive, without him thinking incriminating thoughts and making it worse.

Another chill crept over him, and he closed his eyes, waiting for it to pass; when it didn’t, he spun to the door, and saw to his horror a Dementor was drifting toward him.

The Dementors loved catching Draco alone; they knew they could suck a huge amount of happiness from him, and he didn’t have any way of preventing it. Draco leapt up, knocking his chair over, and drew his wand needlessly. “Stay back!” he croaked.

The Dementor just kept coming, and Draco’s wand shook. He thought about calling for help, but knew it was pointless; the other Death Eaters never helped him. For all he knew they’d intentionally given the Dementor its chance.

Draco closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on anything else, but the feeling of the Dementor near him was too overpowering; he wondered if this was the time it would get tired of waiting, and suck the soul right out of him…

“Expecto Patronum!”

Draco’s eyes shot open, and for a moment he thought he was seeing things; what appeared to be a silvery, glowing Jack Russell terrier was attacking the Dementor! That’s it, Draco thought. I’ve finally cracked…

The Dementor, despite its terrifying appearance, tried to back away from the glowing dog as if afraid. Draco soon found out why; the Terrier went for the Dementor, savaging it viciously. Where the dog’s teeth sank in, the Dementor almost seemed to dissolve. The Dementor tried to flee, but the dog managed to bring it crashing down; the terrier swarmed over the Dementor, biting, snarling, and in just a few moments the Dementor fell silent and still—and then dissolved into nothing. That ghost dog killed it! Draco gasped. I thought that was impossible…

The dog turned to look at Draco, and he backed away, wondering if he was next. He pointed his wand, but before he could formulate a hex the same voice called out “Expelliarmus!” and Draco was slammed back into the wall, his wand flying across the room.

“Wh—who is it?” Draco moaned out, clutching his head; it had knocked against the wall, making him see stars.

“Get up, Malfoy,” the voice growled, and Draco froze. That sounds awfully familiar… “I said get up!”

Draco’s arm was grabbed and he was dragged to his feet. He raised his head and stared in utter shock at the familiar face. “Scrimgeour?!”

“Shout like that again and I’ll cast a tongue-binding Hex,” Rufus Scrimgeour threatened. “Now shut up and come on,” he continued, shoving Draco toward the door.

“Wait just a second!” Draco protested, still too shook up to feel properly indignant and superior. “If you think for one second—”

“This isn’t a choice, Malfoy,” Scrimgeour snapped, and Draco noticed for the first time that he could only see Scrimgeour’s head; the rest of him was invisible. I thought the Ministry didn’t have Invisibility Cloaks…

“Sir,” Draco sneered mockingly, “the second you push me out that door I’ll yell for help. And you’ll never keep me under that Invisibility Cloak with you! I’d like to see you fight your way through twenty-five Death Eaters and twice as many Dementors!”

Scrimgeour smirked. “Nice try, but there’s only six to eight Death Eaters here right now, including you, and at most four or five Dementors. And as for you shouting for help…” the tip of Scrimgeour’s wand appeared in mid-air. “Bindus Vox!”

Draco felt a tingle in the back of his throat; he opened his mouth to shriek, not knowing what the Minister had done to him, and found that he couldn’t make a sound. Scrimgeour chortled at his stunned expression. “Didn’t think we’d go to all this trouble just to let you spoil it, did you?”

We? Draco mouthed, and scowled, trying to mask his mounting fear; whoever the man was, he wasn’t acting like Rufus Scrimgeour, and since when did the Minister of Magic go on raids of Death Eater strongholds? And they apparently knew a great deal about the location. But how? This place is supposed to be secret…

Without another word Scrimgeour raised the hood of his cloak, so he was completely invisible. Draco was shoved out into the hall, and he finally noticed the noises; it sounded like fighting was going on everywhere. How many people are here? Draco wondered as he was again pushed down the hall. Is it the Ministry? No, they wouldn’t bring the Minister himself! Maybe the Order of the Phoenix?

Draco realized he didn’t have his wand, and his fear redoubled; not that he could cast much without his voice, but at least he’d be able to do a little to defend himself! Just as he was about to turn and try to go back for it, two Death Eaters skidded around a corner in front of him.

Alecto and Travers, Draco noted; not exactly the cavalry, since they were both fairly low-powered wizards, both were cowards, and neither was particularly bright, either. “Draco!” Travers snapped out. “We’re under attack! We have to…”

He seemed to notice that something was wrong just as Scrimgeour’s wand appeared and his voice shouted “Expelliarmus!” Alecto and Travers were sent hurtling back down the hall. Scrimgeour’s wand pointed again; “Accio wan—”

Draco grabbed the Minister’s hand and shoved it aside, causing his Charm to miss. With a growled oath Scrimgeour, who was far stronger, shoved Draco away, but both Alecto and Travers were on their feet, holding their wands…

From out of nowhere four figures came racing around the corner; or rather, three figures and a floating head—and they were all Rufus Scrimgeour! When Alecto and Travers froze in shock at the sight, four identical voices were all shouting “Expelliarmus!” and Alecto and Travers were again thrown off their feet. Three of the Scrimgeours followed with Stupefy, and the two Death Eaters were Stunned unconscious.

Draco tried to scramble away, but the floating head turned and cried out “Ron! Get Draco!” Before Draco got more than ten feet the first Scrimgeour called out something, and Draco found himself suspended in mid-air, dangling from his right ankle.

There was a chortle. “Good one, Ron,” the floating head said with a grin. Potter, Draco thought sourly, recognizing the intonation. I should have known. That explains the first one…it’s the Weasel! “We’ll all head back through the main room together,” Potter said. “When we get there, Alicia, Justin, you and Ron bring Malfoy outside and past the anti-Portkey area. Don’t let anyone else see you. Padma, stay with me.” Without another word Potter headed back the way he’d come, and after Weasley had let Draco down—none to gently—he and one of the other Scrimgeours each grabbed one of Draco’s arms and they all followed.

So Potter’s leading a little army, is he? Draco mused scornfully, remembering some of the gossip he’d heard. And they have access to Polyjuice Potion! Not that it’ll make them decent wizards, of course. Bloody hell, this should be amusing. I’d like to see him get past the foyer!

The foyer of the old abandoned house Voldemort’s supporters had taken over was a large open area, and was constantly occupied by at least three Death Eaters, with more always nearby. Dementors would be close as well, no doubt. Draco fought back a smirk, anticipating a nice victory in which they nabbed Potter…

But when they entered the foyer Draco was amazed to see three more Scrimgeours fighting wand-to-wand with another two Death Eaters—Mulciber and Avery, it looked like. Unbelievably, there were already four other Death Eaters lying around the room unconscious!

The group holding Draco joined in the battle the moment they saw it, leaving just Weasley (Draco thought) to watch him. Unfortunately, Weasley/Scrimgeour was a lot stronger than Draco, and armed besides; Draco didn’t have much chance against him.

With Potter and the two others joining the fight the odds were quickly six to two, and no matter how powerful the Death Eaters were, Potter and his friends were pretty strong wizards and witches themselves; the fight definitely looked in their odds, not to mention they definitely had a psychological edge—after all, Scrimgeour had been head of the Auror Department before becoming Minister.

Apparently Mulciber and Avery thought they were in trouble as well, for their fighting became more desperate, and Curses began flying everywhere; Weasley actually had to shove Malfoy to the floor to avoid both of them being hit by a randomly thrown Curse.

When Draco hit the ground, wincing as he arm bounced on the stone, he caught a glimpse of something. Oh, yes! he thought manically. Get Potter, Nagini! Do it!

Voldemort’s pet snake Nagini was slithering stealthily toward where Potter, distracted by the fight, was crouched behind some boxes. She could probably tell it was Potter by his smell or something, and was clearly intent on getting a good bite out of him. Maybe he won’t be able to get outside the wards in time, and he’ll die from poison, Draco thought with gruesome satisfaction. Go on, just a bit closer…

Just as Nagini got close to Potter, Avery stood straight up to where he could see, pointed his wand at Potter and shouted “Avada Kedavra!” Avery was then struck by three hexes at once, but not before the Killing Curse erupted from his wand. Potter, unfortunately, used his Seeker reflexes to leap aside, and the Curse missed him…

Draco was flattened by the force of the explosion. He lay flat for a long while after, staring dazedly up at the ceiling. I didn’t think Avada Kedavra made people explode, he thought blankly. Or is that because it was a snake? Or the Dark Lord’s snake?

Someone groaned, making Draco finally sit up, wincing, and look around. Two of the other Scrimgeours were helping a third to his feet; Potter, considering where he’d fallen. He looked like he’d caught the brunt of the explosion, but hadn’t been badly hurt…just shaken up. Damn it! What was worse, Avery had been Stupefied, and Mulciber—

Mulciber was raising his wand shakily, but before he could so much as open his mouth one of the Scrimgeours pointed their wand at him and shouted “Hyttan Çowerselfus Ealne!”

Draco stared in horror at Mulciber as The Death Eater dropped his wand and began punching himself in the face, with both fists, over and over! The caster of the hex was watching Mulciber, his whole body tensed and wary. “Er…” Potter said hesitantly, “Was that—?”

“The Self-Punching Hex,” the other confirmed with a nod. “With a bit of a change I added; now it just keeps on forever.”

Self-Punching Hex? Forever? Draco thought nervously. He couldn’t look at Mulciber, who was crying out for help and whose face was looking more battered every second.

“Can you stop it?” Potter asked, wincing each time Mulciber’s fist connected.

The Scrimgeour who cast the hex made several attempts to counter it, but to no avail. “Well I was trying to make it permanent,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Potter grimaced and pointed his wand at Mulciber: “Stupefy,” he said, and Mulciber collapsed. Fortunately his hands unclenched and stopped punching. “Thank Merlin,” Potter said.

“Hang on a minute,” the Scrimgeour who’d cast the hex said, and took aim again. “Rennervate,” he muttered. Mulciber’s eyes flickered open…and he immediately let out a yell when his right hand slammed into his cheek. “Stupefy,” Scrimgeour said, and turned to Potter once Mulciber was unconscious again. “I didn’t think it would be that strong.”

“I guess we’d better turn him over to St. Mungo’s,” Potter said. “The others can go to the Ministry.”

The Ministry…Draco began to panic again. He knew what the Dark Lord was likely to do if he were put in the Ministry’s custody. The Dark Lord’s spies were in every department, and it wouldn’t take much for one of them to slip something into Draco’s food. He scrambled to his feet and ran for the hallway…and again found himself dangling by his ankle.

This time, Weasley left Draco dangling and walked over to Potter. “You all right, mate?” he asked.

“Yeah, just stunned, that’s all,” Potter told him. He finally glanced over to where he’d been crouching and considered what remained of the giant snake. “That—that was Nagini,” he said needlessly. “Voldemort’s pet snake.” He looked up and exchanged glances with the Weasley and the Scrimgeour who’d cast the Self-Punching Hex—probably Granger, Draco thought. “Nagini is dead!”

Draco thought that the three of them seemed altogether far too ecstatic about the death of a simple snake. They looked like they were ready to start a little celebratory dance right then. Of course, it could have been Draco’s imagination, since his view was a bit off due to his dangling upside-down from the bloody ceiling!

“Okay,” Potter said. “Did everyone avoid names, except in front of Draco?” Potter asked; all the figures nodded. “Good. Our hour is running out—we have to get out right away. Padma, Justin, Alicia, Katie, the four of you get down the hall to where we Stupefied those two Death Eaters, and bring them back here. Ginny, Terry, start Levitating the Death Eaters in this room closer to the door—and all of you, don’t forget to collect some hairs from each of them! As soon as we’ve got them all out past the wards, we’ll slap the Portkeys on them and send them to the Ministry. Except that one,” he added, wincing as he pointed to Mulciber. “Him, we’ll send to St. Mungo’s. Then we’ll…”

Potter’s voice trailed off, and Draco twisted around frantically when he felt the cold feeling rush over him again. The front door had opened and two Dementors glided in, looking around as if trying to decide who to Kiss first. It’ll be me, Draco tried to scream, almost wrenching his ankle as he tried to free himself. The Dark Lord gave them orders to keep us from talking if we were caught!

Against all logic, the others didn’t seem too concerned about the Dementors. “I’ll do it,” Scrimgeour/Potter said, raising his wand and pointing it at the Dementors, who began advancing on him. Potter looked over again at the messy remains of Nagini, and the evil grin gave Draco a chill that had nothing to do with Dementors. Then Potter took a deep breath and shouted “Expecto Patronum!”

Draco gasped silently as an enormous stag, erupted from the end of Potter’s wand, glowing brightly just like the dog he had seen earlier. It charged down the Dementors, who weren’t quick enough to avoid it; the stag’s sharp horns slammed into the black figures, and it tossed its head, sending them sailing through the air and crashing to the floor. Relentlessly, the stag stormed over the fallen Dementors, trampling them with its huge hooves until, like the Dementor attacked by the glowing dog, they fell still and then dissolved into nothing.

Draco watched, dumbfounded, as the stag walked proudly over to Potter, who raised a hand and patted it warmly on the neck. “Thanks, Prongs,” he whispered before stepping back and dropping his wand, and the stag faded away.

“Okay,” Potter said firmly. “Padma, Justin, Alicia, Katie…What are you waiting for? Go! Be back in two minutes!” The designated four ducked under Draco, smirking, and disappeared down the hall; all the identical faces were giving Draco a headache. “Ginny, Terry, get started. Ron, get Malfoy down and over here.”

Draco was again dumped roughly on the ground. Then Weasley grabbed his arm again and manhandled him over to where Potter was examining what was left of Nagini. When they got close, Potter looked up and grinned at Ron. “Look…she left scorch marks,” he said, seeming positively thrilled about it. “No doubt, I’d say.”

“What a bit of bloody luck,” Weasley answered, matching the grin. Then his face drained of color. “Oh crap, what if Voldemort was possessing Nagini? He’ll know we’re here!”

But Potter shook his head. “This place is warded against everything, remember? There’s a spell that prevents mental intrusion here too.”

Weasley let out a long, relieved breath, and Draco glared at Potter. How did they know so much about the bloody house? It was supposed to be secret! Weasley pulled Draco around. “Harry…I know we already agreed on this, but are you sure you want to do this? We could turn Malfoy here over to the Ministry too!”

“Ron, you know we can’t,” Potter said, and raised his eyebrows when Draco breathed a silent sigh of relief. “Yes, Malfoy, we know you’d be dead if we did,” he said. “And as much as that might have appealed to me once, right now you’re worth a lot more to us alive.”

Wait a minute, Draco thought. To them? They’re here to kidnap me? Why me? Oh Merlin, what about— He shook his head desperately, trying to tell them, furious that he couldn’t talk. Voldemort will kill my Mother!

Potter frowned at Malfoy, but evidently either read his lips or understood his fears. “Draco, your mother is safe,” he said, with surprising sympathy that looked all wrong on Scrimgeour’s face. “Our people are getting her right this moment; she won’t be turned over to the Ministry. Some…other people will watch her.”

Draco stared. The Order? he mouthed.

Potter looked surprised, but nodded. “Yeah…I guess Voldemort does know about them, thanks to Snape,” he said with a scowl. “But they can keep your mother safe, Draco. In fact,” he said, looking at his watch, “Narcissa is probably being turned over to the Order right now.”

Draco hadn’t missed that Potter had called him Draco. Trying to seem a bit more sympathetic so I’ll spill all the information I have? he scoffed. Not bloody likely!

Before he could start making demands—like to return his voice, for one—the other four returned, Levitating Alecto and Travers. Draco looked around and saw that the Weasleyette and the boy called Terry had Levitated the other Death Eaters and left them floating by the front door. “Okay, we’re all going together,” Potter said. “Padma, Justin, Alicia, Katie and Terry, you all Levitate the Death Eaters. Ron, you watch Malfoy under your Cloak. Ginny and I will be keeping watch for trouble, from under cloaks as well. Head for the spot we marked outside the Anti-Apparition fields; as soon as you’re there, use the Portkeys to send the Death Eaters to the Ministry. Oh,” he said, pausing, and pulled out a Galleon, and Draco stared in shock as Potter effortlessly turned the Galleon into a Portkey, which he then handed to the girl called Padma. “That one is for this Death Eater,” he said, pointing to Mulciber, who still looked badly beaten, and the girl nodded. “Once they’re all Portkeyed, Apparate back to the meeting point and wait. Everyone got it?”

Everyone nodded. Potter turned to Draco, who shied away a bit; Bloody Potter’s really got an army at his command! “Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Potter said, sounding amused. “You’re in good hands now—or at least, better then Voldemort’s hands. All right everyone,” he said before disappearing under his Invisibility Cloak. “Let’s go.”