22 | ﴾ Time's Up ﴿

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That evening after a brutal first day of work Draco didn't bother Madeleine to spend time with him and neither did she in return. He resided in his room with his white cat coiled up on his black comforter like a full moon in an obsidian sky. He inspected the properties of the odd invisible blanket with a symmetrical output. Finnigan had implied that it belonged to Potter, but in what context would the boy own such a valuable item?

Draco immediately knew what it was; he had grown up in a pureblood wizarding family and heard all of the tales of The Three Peverell Brothers and the Deathly Hallows. Never before had he been dropped any insight, that he could recall, of the Invisibility Cloak being discovered in contemporary society. The Resurrection Stone had been destroyed in his first year at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore had always possessed the Elder Wand quite publicly. And now he, Draco Malfoy, had the Invisibility Cloak.

He hid it in a loose floorboard under his bed and proceeded to work on the watch runes, trying to remember where he had left off. He worked on the runes irresponsibly until nearly three in the morning, realizing that he had decoded over fifty percent of the data already. He was getting quite efficient, moving faster and faster as symbols he recognized reappeared more frequently. As he was hoping would occur, a glitch interrupted his progress and his eyes floated up - bleary and dry at his desk - to watch whatever randomized memory it had selected to subject him to, but only in part.

He nearly shoved his desk back at the image of himself with a black hood over his long hair and his signature Death Eater mask covering his face. His blue eyes were burning with rage as he strode purposefully down a first floor corridor of Hogwarts, flanked by infamous Death Eaters. Bellatrix Lestrange was giddily cackling and bouncing around like a psychotic child, pointing her wand at anything and everything that she could destroy. Several students in golden Hufflepuff robes were instantly murdered for happening to be out of bed most misfortunately.

Severus Snape guided the way briskly, followed then by the dark lord himself, up the winding metal staircase leading to the top of the Astronomy Tour. The ominous sounds of their boots on the treads echoed up the vertical structure, leaving their approach boldly unmasked.

"Professor! Professor you have to get up," Harry's voice could be heard in desperation well before they had reached the top.

"Go, Harry," Dumbledore hoarsely responded, "You must go before it is too late. Find the remaining Horcrux's. Hogwarts has been compromised. Do as I say!"

The Death Eater's reached the top just as Harry Potter raised his wand and disappeared. As he disapparated away, his eyes locked onto Draco's with shock. He had been theorizing for years that Draco was a member of the dark lord's army, and he finally had his confirmation, albeit fleeting and vague.

Snape immediately disarmed the elderly professor who was on his side on the floor, clearly injured in some mystery manner. They rotated around him like a flock of Grizzly bears that had just come across a wounded deer. Dumbledore blinked up at Voldemort who was looming tall and ghastly above him, rotating his wand around with his long and vile tongue slithering in delight from his ungodly jaw. "Albussss," he cooed mockingly, "What a pity we have only jussssst missed the Potter boy."

In the sky beyond it was dark outside and a strong wind was blowing through the open top of the Astronomy Tower. Black robes whipped around the villainous intruder's to the castle. "Tom," Dumbledore calmly replied through squinty eyes.

A sickening sense of dread washed over Draco as he watched the gruesome recollection. He pulled his knees up to his chest in his chair with his heart starting to ache. In the memory there was cruelty in his expression that made him look unrecognizable even to himself, and he wondered what could have possibly happened to change him so much. He had for some time been forced to spy on Harry and attend Death Eater gatherings, but never with so much vigor or passion. From what he did remember, he had been crying quite often by the time he reached his seventh year at Hogwarts from the strain and guilt of what he was partaking in. This version of himself stood there with his wand pointed stiffly and confidently in his headmaster's face, threatening to murder him.

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