The Pen of Destiny (COMPLETE!!)
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Sirius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
7,279
Reviews:
42
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Sirius/Hermione
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
7,279
Reviews:
42
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the writing of this story. Though Lord knows I wish I did.
Chapter Seventeen
PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!!
***
Chapter Seventeen
Marcus looked at Hermione in shock as she sat quietly watching him for a response. She had come to his home in the dead of night alone, telling the house elf that she wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t important. She was shown straight away to the study and told to wait as the master of the house was still in bed. Half an hour later, he walked in and sat down.
“I am sorry about the timing of this meeting,” she told him without preamble. “You don’t have to say anything, just hear me out. And if at the end of it you could tell me if I am correct in my theory…”
“That much I can do, but little else,” he said firmly.
“That, in truth, is more than I had hoped for,” she told him, looking more relieved than she had a moment before. “In 1951, there was a very important birthday.” Hermione pointed to the painting over his desk. “‘The Vitruvian Man’ reminded me of that. And how they celebrated this milestone was to give one of the artist’s most famous pieces of art a new frame and crosspieces.” Marcus was now looking alarmed. “No one would know if let’s say the flexible oak frame or the beech crosspieces were replaced with the transfigured infamous Plume, would they? They were made especially for the painting. They would have what they wanted, a beautiful new frame and backing for a beautiful lady. And you would have what you wanted, Machiavelli’s Plume in the safest place you could think of protected by the world’s most famous painting.”
“You are correct of course,” he sighed, leaning back. “What now?”
“Now, sir, we need a convincing story that will stop not only these wizards in their tracts, but all of them, and have them never looking for that Plume again.” She handed him a paper. “And I think I know just where to start.”
***
Both the Malfoys were asked to come into Hermione’s office and sit at her desk as she kept working silently at her computer. Once she was finished printing up what she needed, she looked to both of them.
“I have to say that this last week has proved to be far more entertaining than one would normally care for,” she murmured, looking over to Draco. “Oh the tales I have to tell, but it’s nothing that can’t wait until later.” Hermione looked over to Lucius. “Just how familiar are you with the Internet, Lord Malfoy?”
“Don’t answer that,” Draco told him. “What’s going on here, Granger?”
“It’s what you figure,” she murmured. “I have to say that most of it has been sorted out. I’m just wondering how in the world he talked you into it.” Draco shook his head in denial as she went on, “The plan was half assed at best and all either of you had to go on was myth. Were you the one to tell your father that I should be the one to do the real hunting?”
“We do not have to put up with…” Hermione whipped out her wand and forced Lucius back into his seat.
“You will stay put and you will remain quiet until you are asked a question, do I make myself clear?” she snapped. Hermione looked over to Draco. “Four of the deadliest death eaters ever to live hunting down a relic that could change history was the story, correct?” She took up the papers, handing them over to Draco. “Your father should have done his research.”
“Merlin,” Draco whispered, looking back over to her. “They’re dead?”
Lucius grabbed the papers from his son and read. “This means nothing!”
“I double checked with the cities their bodies were found, had DNA samples collected, and compared them to samples we already had from them thanks to their extended stays in Azkaban. They are well and truly dead!” She shook her head. “Your mistake was thinking that just because they were dangerous there wouldn’t be witches and wizards out there willing to hunt them to ground. Once they were dead, the hunters wanted to shout out as much from the mountaintops.” She spun her laptop around to face him. “Welcome to the 21st century mountaintop, Mr. Malfoy.”
“That means nothing,” Lucius declared.
“Who attacked me?” That had him blinking at her. “Who attacked Blaise? If not them, who?”
“You have no proof that I or my son had anything to do with that,” he growled.
“True,” she murmured. “What I have is a story and something tells me that you really want to hear it.” Leaning back, she said, “Back in 1951 two of the strongest world powers within the muggle world discovered the power of Machiavelli’s Plume. How or who told them is something only history knows, but that’s not what’s important. The Delacour family, the long time guardians of the Plume knew that if it fell into the wrong hands again, there would be nothing they could do to fix it. So they came up with a plan.” She looked over to Draco, who was now looking curious. “They would hide it. But where could it be safe from everyone—muggle or wizard?” Lucius made a sour noise, but said nothing as she looked over to him. “It turned out that they were in luck. In 1951 the world was celebrating the 500th birthday of Leonardo de Vinci. And at the Louvre, they were giving one of his most famous pieces of art, the Mona Lisa, a new frame.” She handed new papers over to Draco. “Those are the work orders, for the beech crosspieces to help with the warping of the painting. Look at who signed the order.”
“Marcus Delacour,” Draco whispered.
She looked over to Lucius. “He transfigured it into the crosspieces and made it a part of the world’s most famous painting. Which as you know is protected by both the muggles and the wizarding worlds, as the man that created it was one of the world’s most powerful wizards.”
“Why tell us this story?” Draco asked.
“Because like most very good stories, it has a monstrously ironic ending,” she said, leaning back and watching them both. “Care to guess?” When neither of them said anything, she went on with, “In 1970 the beech cross pieces were replaced due to insect infestation. Let’s face it, the last thing on earth they wanted near a very old painting done on wood were beetles or termites more than willing to overlook the painting’s fame for a good meal…”
“Who has it now?” Lucius asked, his demand clear.
“No one,” she answered. “The beech crosspieces were incinerated. They couldn’t take the chance of the infestation spreading.”
Lucius began to shake as he whispered, “It’s gone?”
She nodded. “Machiavelli’s Plume has been dust for a good long time now.” Hermione looked over to Draco. “Whose idea was it?”
“I wasn’t a part of this,” he answered quietly. “But I can say this much he’s the one that attacked Blaise.”
“I thought as much,” she murmured, just as Harry and several other aurors walked into her office. “Lord Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest…”
***
The owl arrived late that afternoon at the Delacour home. Marcus quickly excused himself and went to his study. Opening it he read and reread the missive, half expecting the news in front of his eyes to be false, but knowing that wasn’t the case.
“Dearest Mr. Delacour,
I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. This is to let you know that the newest hunt for the blasted pen has come to a halt. The false papers you provided worked like a charm, as well as the story we worked on. My father always told me to stick to the truth as much as possible when lying. They didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the crosspieces, but the frame you worked on, do they? Nor do any need to know that it’s still on the painting to this very day. This is something I figured out when I was admiring the art in your study—which by and by is the same design and wood as that on the Mona Lisa. To ensure no one shall hear it from me, I will take a wizard’s oath never to speak or write of it again once I am finished writing this letter. Perhaps the Plume will be found again, but rest assured it shan’t be from me that they get the information.
With warmest regards,
Hermione Granger”
Marcus walked over to the fireplace and tossed the missive into the flames. Letting out a long relieved sigh, he turned to leave his study and rejoin his family at the dinner table.
***
Please if you could review the story. It helps the writers to hear back from the readers in so many ways. Thanks!
***
Chapter Seventeen
Marcus looked at Hermione in shock as she sat quietly watching him for a response. She had come to his home in the dead of night alone, telling the house elf that she wouldn’t be there if it wasn’t important. She was shown straight away to the study and told to wait as the master of the house was still in bed. Half an hour later, he walked in and sat down.
“I am sorry about the timing of this meeting,” she told him without preamble. “You don’t have to say anything, just hear me out. And if at the end of it you could tell me if I am correct in my theory…”
“That much I can do, but little else,” he said firmly.
“That, in truth, is more than I had hoped for,” she told him, looking more relieved than she had a moment before. “In 1951, there was a very important birthday.” Hermione pointed to the painting over his desk. “‘The Vitruvian Man’ reminded me of that. And how they celebrated this milestone was to give one of the artist’s most famous pieces of art a new frame and crosspieces.” Marcus was now looking alarmed. “No one would know if let’s say the flexible oak frame or the beech crosspieces were replaced with the transfigured infamous Plume, would they? They were made especially for the painting. They would have what they wanted, a beautiful new frame and backing for a beautiful lady. And you would have what you wanted, Machiavelli’s Plume in the safest place you could think of protected by the world’s most famous painting.”
“You are correct of course,” he sighed, leaning back. “What now?”
“Now, sir, we need a convincing story that will stop not only these wizards in their tracts, but all of them, and have them never looking for that Plume again.” She handed him a paper. “And I think I know just where to start.”
***
Both the Malfoys were asked to come into Hermione’s office and sit at her desk as she kept working silently at her computer. Once she was finished printing up what she needed, she looked to both of them.
“I have to say that this last week has proved to be far more entertaining than one would normally care for,” she murmured, looking over to Draco. “Oh the tales I have to tell, but it’s nothing that can’t wait until later.” Hermione looked over to Lucius. “Just how familiar are you with the Internet, Lord Malfoy?”
“Don’t answer that,” Draco told him. “What’s going on here, Granger?”
“It’s what you figure,” she murmured. “I have to say that most of it has been sorted out. I’m just wondering how in the world he talked you into it.” Draco shook his head in denial as she went on, “The plan was half assed at best and all either of you had to go on was myth. Were you the one to tell your father that I should be the one to do the real hunting?”
“We do not have to put up with…” Hermione whipped out her wand and forced Lucius back into his seat.
“You will stay put and you will remain quiet until you are asked a question, do I make myself clear?” she snapped. Hermione looked over to Draco. “Four of the deadliest death eaters ever to live hunting down a relic that could change history was the story, correct?” She took up the papers, handing them over to Draco. “Your father should have done his research.”
“Merlin,” Draco whispered, looking back over to her. “They’re dead?”
Lucius grabbed the papers from his son and read. “This means nothing!”
“I double checked with the cities their bodies were found, had DNA samples collected, and compared them to samples we already had from them thanks to their extended stays in Azkaban. They are well and truly dead!” She shook her head. “Your mistake was thinking that just because they were dangerous there wouldn’t be witches and wizards out there willing to hunt them to ground. Once they were dead, the hunters wanted to shout out as much from the mountaintops.” She spun her laptop around to face him. “Welcome to the 21st century mountaintop, Mr. Malfoy.”
“That means nothing,” Lucius declared.
“Who attacked me?” That had him blinking at her. “Who attacked Blaise? If not them, who?”
“You have no proof that I or my son had anything to do with that,” he growled.
“True,” she murmured. “What I have is a story and something tells me that you really want to hear it.” Leaning back, she said, “Back in 1951 two of the strongest world powers within the muggle world discovered the power of Machiavelli’s Plume. How or who told them is something only history knows, but that’s not what’s important. The Delacour family, the long time guardians of the Plume knew that if it fell into the wrong hands again, there would be nothing they could do to fix it. So they came up with a plan.” She looked over to Draco, who was now looking curious. “They would hide it. But where could it be safe from everyone—muggle or wizard?” Lucius made a sour noise, but said nothing as she looked over to him. “It turned out that they were in luck. In 1951 the world was celebrating the 500th birthday of Leonardo de Vinci. And at the Louvre, they were giving one of his most famous pieces of art, the Mona Lisa, a new frame.” She handed new papers over to Draco. “Those are the work orders, for the beech crosspieces to help with the warping of the painting. Look at who signed the order.”
“Marcus Delacour,” Draco whispered.
She looked over to Lucius. “He transfigured it into the crosspieces and made it a part of the world’s most famous painting. Which as you know is protected by both the muggles and the wizarding worlds, as the man that created it was one of the world’s most powerful wizards.”
“Why tell us this story?” Draco asked.
“Because like most very good stories, it has a monstrously ironic ending,” she said, leaning back and watching them both. “Care to guess?” When neither of them said anything, she went on with, “In 1970 the beech cross pieces were replaced due to insect infestation. Let’s face it, the last thing on earth they wanted near a very old painting done on wood were beetles or termites more than willing to overlook the painting’s fame for a good meal…”
“Who has it now?” Lucius asked, his demand clear.
“No one,” she answered. “The beech crosspieces were incinerated. They couldn’t take the chance of the infestation spreading.”
Lucius began to shake as he whispered, “It’s gone?”
She nodded. “Machiavelli’s Plume has been dust for a good long time now.” Hermione looked over to Draco. “Whose idea was it?”
“I wasn’t a part of this,” he answered quietly. “But I can say this much he’s the one that attacked Blaise.”
“I thought as much,” she murmured, just as Harry and several other aurors walked into her office. “Lord Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest…”
***
The owl arrived late that afternoon at the Delacour home. Marcus quickly excused himself and went to his study. Opening it he read and reread the missive, half expecting the news in front of his eyes to be false, but knowing that wasn’t the case.
“Dearest Mr. Delacour,
I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health. This is to let you know that the newest hunt for the blasted pen has come to a halt. The false papers you provided worked like a charm, as well as the story we worked on. My father always told me to stick to the truth as much as possible when lying. They didn’t need to know that it wasn’t the crosspieces, but the frame you worked on, do they? Nor do any need to know that it’s still on the painting to this very day. This is something I figured out when I was admiring the art in your study—which by and by is the same design and wood as that on the Mona Lisa. To ensure no one shall hear it from me, I will take a wizard’s oath never to speak or write of it again once I am finished writing this letter. Perhaps the Plume will be found again, but rest assured it shan’t be from me that they get the information.
With warmest regards,
Hermione Granger”
Marcus walked over to the fireplace and tossed the missive into the flames. Letting out a long relieved sigh, he turned to leave his study and rejoin his family at the dinner table.
***
Please if you could review the story. It helps the writers to hear back from the readers in so many ways. Thanks!