𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍-𝘏𝘈𝘙𝘙𝘠 𝘗𝘖𝘛𝘛𝘌𝘙

Chapter 32

Lovesbitca8 TAKES CREDIT THIS IS HER WORK - FOUND ON AO3

Lucius Malfoy prowled through a thick wooded area, following a small sphere of light that did little in the way of illumination.

Hermione dropped into the memory next to a gnarled tree, Draco joining her a second after. She rushed to follow Lucius as he cut through an untraveled path, slicing branches and thickets away with his wand. Draco's footsteps were light but close behind her.

"Did you watch all of his memories?" Her heart beat quicker in her ribs as she turned to look at him.

They'd barely spoken since the moment in his bedroom five minutes ago, when he'd shaken her universe with a single word.

Hermione had shot question after question at him until he'd finally returned to his body, telling her she needed to come to the Pensieve with him. She'd flown out of the door and down the stairs before he could draw breath, tossing the simplest definition of a Horcrux over her shoulder at him once he caught up with her in the corridor. But he'd said nothing. He'd remained silent even when he took her hand and plunged them into the Pensieve to watch the first memory in the tray holding three black-tinted vials.

Draco's mouth was thin as he placed a hand on her back, guiding her forward. "No. Just some of the ones in the black vials." They passed through a low hanging branch like air, and Hermione froze on instinct. His hand lifted once she began walking again. "I know my father. He separated those ones for a reason."

Hermione nodded and refocused on where Lucius was headed.

They caught up to him a moment later, staring at the orb as it hovered between a pair of rotting tree trunks. Lucius's eyes closed, and a heartbeat later, the trunks parted to reveal a dilapidated shack. Lucius frowned at the residence, shimmering in a Notice-Me-Not Charm. The ball of light winked out as soon as he stepped through, and Hermione and Draco followed.

The exterior walls and roof were covered in moss, the ceiling caving in places. Trees seemed to have swallowed the shack as they grew unchecked around it.

Lucius swiftly moved down the overgrown path and toward the front door. After a quick sweep for curses, he pushed the wooden door open with a creak. He took a careful step inside, and Hermione followed him, stepping over the carcass of a long-dead garden snake. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when Draco bumped into her from behind. He murmured an apology and steered her to the right, and she blinked to take in the room.

Dust, grass, and dead rodents littered the floor. The sink was full of cobwebbed dishes that had been abandoned years ago. Hermione's stomach churned. She was grateful that she couldn't ascertain scent from a Pensieve memory — the look on Lucius's face told her everything she needed to know.

She turned to Draco, and saw that his eyes were glued to the solitary doorway opposite of the sink. Just then, a large, hulking figure emerged silently from the darkness. Hermione stumbled backward, and Draco's hand caught hers.

Lucius whipped around to turn his wand on the man, and Goyle Sr. appeared in the light of his Lumos.

He looked exactly like his son — they had the same heavy brow, clipped hair, and thick neck. But there was something different in his deep eyes. Something that curdled Hermione's blood.

"We've been looking for you, Gregory," Lucius said. He didn't lower his wand.

Goyle remained perfectly still, almost as if he'd been Petrified. The light from Lucius's Lumos cast strange shadows on his chin and cheeks.

"How did you find me?" His thin, slippery voice sent shivers across Hermione's skin. "I sent a letter to the Dark Lord requesting him."

"I'm well aware." Lucius's tone was cold as he reached into his breast pocket and produced a folded piece of parchment. "I had been looking for you for two weeks when you deigned to send him this letter requesting that he come and find you. Leaving behind coordinates and riddles like some kind of children's game." He let the words hang heavy in the air. "The Dark Lord doesn't have time for your theatrics, Goyle. And neither do I."