The Man From H.O.G.W.A.R.T.S. (A Drarry FanFiction)

Chapter Two

   Harry turned as the door swung inwards. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but by the time his mind fully registered who was entering the room, he had already leapt to his feet with his pistol snapped in the direction of the intruder's face.

The other man's reaction was just as swift. Harry also found himself staring down the barrel of a gun, and was not impressed.

"Minnie," Harry said lightly, despite the twitch in his jaw. "It appears you have a Rusky in your office."

He heard her sigh behind him. "Yes, Potter. Because I invited him here. Would you please both stop embarrassing yourselves, and put the guns down."

Harry's eyes bore into his opponent's grey ones. "Draco Malfoy," he said in a cheery tone, ignoring the command to lower his weapon. "It's been a while. Belgrade, wasn't it? '66?"

"June," the Russian agreed in his low timbre. "You shot me."

"Well," said Harry sombrely. "You were being an awfully bad boy."

Draco Malfoy – or The Dragon to use yet another absurd pseudonym – was taller than Harry by a number of inches, with white blond hair, pale skin and a permanent scowl. As a prolific K.G.B. spy, Harry had danced with him several times. And although he had to admit he'd had rather a lot of fun on those occasions, he was still nonetheless more than a little put out to see him waltz into London's M.I.6 headquarters in the middle of the day as if he owned the place. Honestly, did no one have manners anymore?

"Agents," McGonagall snapped. "Guns down. Now."

There was a pause, then both men lowered their arms to their sides.

"Excellent. Now, may I suggest something outrageous?" McGonagall asked. "Like taking a seat?"

Harry had received numerous raised eyebrows when it had become widely know he was going to be working for a woman. He himself had been rather dubious as to how that might pan out. But after a mere few weeks he had learnt just how uncomplicated it was; orders were given, and they were followed. That was all. He pitied anyone who assumed it could be otherwise.

So, he took his seat once again on the left, and Malfoy moved cautiously around him to occupy the chair on the right. Neither man took their eyes off each other, and placed their firearms on the desk simultaneously.

"You were invited?" Harry challenged.

"By Director McGonagall," Malfoy confirmed. "With offer of truce. I am finding this a little hard to believe in this moment."

His accent was strong but the words clearly enunciated and delivered without hesitation. Harry didn't blink as he held his gaze.

McGonagall rapped her knuckles on the table. "If you can't behave yourselves, I am more than willing to spray both of you with a water bottle," she said tartly. "Honestly, you are supposed to be international agents."

Harry smiled, and leant back in his seat. He crossed one leg over the other and placed both hands on the top knee. "My apologies Director," he said sincerely, finally turning to face her. "At least you know my reflexes are not rusty."

"Quite." She didn't sound convinced.

Malfoy also turned towards her. "My director told me this was of great importance," he said coldly. "That I had no choice but to take mission. Am I merely to be shot instead?"

"Of course not," McGonagall assured him.

"It depends on how you behave," Harry said.

Before Malfoy could reply, McGonagall interceded. "Agent Malfoy, am I to assume you have read the briefing?"

"Yes, Director." He was sat as stiffly as she was; like they both had iron curtain poles inserted in a most intimate fashion. Harry made sure to lean back in his chair and affect an air of calm disinterest. "And I bring news of potential lead."

He fished an envelope from the breast pocket of his tan jacket and handed it to her. He wore a turtle neck jumper underneath; his signature look when he was not undercover, as Harry knew all too well. However, Harry was of the opinion that an agent not wearing a three-piece suit at any time during active duty was practically committing treason against his country, therefore deplored the ensemble.

It had nothing to do with the fact he doubted he could ever convincingly pull off such a look. Nothing at all.

His attention was soon drawn back to the matter at hand as McGonagall slid her letter opener along the top of the envelope and extracted its contents. A lead on the whereabouts of the abductees would be most welcome. But Harry wasn't entirely convinced they could trust anything from the U.S.S.R., so waited to see the information first before getting his hopes up.

"Rodolphus Lestrange?" she asked, reading through the couple of sheets of paper speedily.

Malfoy nodded. "And his wife, Bellatrix. Two of Voldemort's most loyal followers. They were spotted in Vienna, headed to West Berlin."

McGonagall scanned a few more lines, then handed the documents over to Harry. "I'm sure individuals like that would have little difficulty slipping through Checkpoint Charlie, and once they are in East Germany they will be much harder to track. Your sources believe them to be worth following though?"

Malfoy nodded. He had cheekbones like cut glass Harry noted as he kept half an eye on him whilst he absorbed the facts he held in his hands. "They have list apparently – if it is intended targets it could save many lives. But it could also hold list of locations for those already abducted."

"You don't believe them to all be in one place?" Harry asked. He refolded the papers and slipped them back into the envelope, then dropped it on top of the file on the desk.

Malfoy shook his head. "At least four bases of operation are suspected. If we get list, chances are we find out how many in total."

"Either finding those already taken, or stopping any more from being abducted would be a decided victory." McGonagall pulled the file and envelope back towards her. "Ideally, we do both. It seems from this information we only have a short window. You gentlemen are to travel directly to West Berlin. A car will be ready to take you to the airport within the hour. Once there you are to intercept the Lestranges, and acquire this list. Any questions?"

The petulant side of Harry wanted to double check she was quite sure that Malfoy was the best partner he could really be matched with, given the likelihood that they would kill one another before the plane even touched down in Germany. However, the other agent was already nodding and rising to his feet, and Harry did not wish to be upstaged by lodging a protest. "We'll handle it from here," he said. He too got to his feet, fastened the single button on his jacket, and walked swiftly from the room without giving Malfoy another glance.