Your Fortnightly Drarry Story (Back by Popular Demand)

9. An Unexpected Twist in the Plot

The following week, Robards led them on a mission on top of Cross Fell in the north Pennines (it was possibly where they should have been when they went to Bleaklow but Robards would never admit he'd made a mistake about the information he'd been provided with). They were watching a lone shepherd's hut that was tucked away off the main path across the moors. Robards suggested there was a probability that a group of wizards, led by Thorfinn Rowle, were trying to brew Morency in it. Harry thought it was bullshit... er, remember Bristol... (and because Harry also thought the whole idea of brewing Morency in the middle of a remote moor was very unlikely, although he knew that Morency required dried heather flowers so there was a possible connection to harvesting). Needless to say, Harry kept trying to warn everyone about the volatile nature of the drug (just in case) and Robards kept talking over him (tosser, thought Harry for the eleventh-billion time).

Robards signalled for Harry to take the lead in approaching the hut. He approached stealthily with Draco by his side, all too aware of a very good Drarry story he'd read about them approaching a cottage in the isolated wilds of Scotland. He almost believed the shepherd's hut would be deserted because of the story. They checked for trip wires that might provide a warning and he ran a scan for traces of Morency in the air but it came back clear. Just before he pushed open the door, he hissed at Draco, 'don't let the door shut behind you,' half-convinced clever curses really did exist that would trap them in the hut overnight.

He was so absorbed in the story that he nearly missed the big fat clue that a comfy chintzy armchair was completely out of place in a damp, half-derelict hut with a mud floor on top of a bloody mountain.

Harry pointed his wand at the chair, though Draco clearly thought Harry was pointing his wand at him.

He put a finger to his lips and indicated with his head for Draco to step to one side.

'Revelio,' he cast, just as Albus Dumbledore had done all those years ago with Horace Slughorn.

The armchair unsnapped into the shape of Rowle who was immediately yelling 'Sectumsempra!' at Harry before whipping away in a swirl of Apparation smoke just as Williamson and Robards burst through the door.

'Bugger!' said Harry, gripping his bleeding arm (luckily Rowle's aim had been rather wild in his hurry to escape). 'Get after him then...' he said as he started to stumble backwards, feeling very faint.

The blood loss was shockingly fast.

'To where, exactly, you twat?' said Draco, rushing forward and catching Harry before he collapsed into the dirt. He managed, one-handedly, to rip open the sleeve of Harry's Auror coat to pinch the huge gash together.

'He got away then?' said Williamson, stating the obvious.

'But it was definitely Rowle?' said Robards, very excited at the news (and completely ignoring the fact that his Assistant Head Auror was bleeding out fatally onto the mud floor).

'Yes,' drawled Draco with a roll of his eyes, carefully casting the Vulnera Sanentur incantation and knitting together the wound. 'Williamson, would you mind conjuring a chair for Potter before he passes out.'

Robards set to with inspecting the hut but it was somewhat pointless as it was small and rectangular and the four of them could barely fit into the small space, especially with all of Williamson's muscle squeezed into the space. There clearly wasn't much to discern beyond tell-tale signs that Rowle had been roughing it there for a while and there were dried bunches of heather hanging from the ceiling.

'Well, that didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm not dead so it's a win,' Harry said, feeling rather light-headed.

'Is that so, Potter?' Draco drawled slowly as he doublechecked Harry's arm before fixing his coat back together.