Marked

The Conflict

Chapter 15: The Conflict

Harry had been the one to apparate them; he was the best one to do it, of course, since he was most familiar with the location.

Not that the wand in Draco's pocket seemed inclined to agree. For the past few days it had been buzzing feverishly as though itching from underuse, which had never happened with Draco's previous wand. He thought about mentioning something to Granger, but then thought better of it. It was probably his imagination.

The four of them landed with a loud crack inside of Harry's rather small bedroom. It was cramped enough on its own - and that was without accounting for the amount of items that carelessly littered the floor. With the four of them suddenly landing in it, it was solidly at full capacity. Draco, unsteady on the landing, took a step backwards and almost immediately felt his heel crunch down on an old, dried up ink pot, subsequently swearing loudly.

"Shh!" Granger said instantly, holding her hand up to Draco's mouth.

"How is this my fault?" he grumbled, trying to steady himself by grabbing onto her shoulders. "And what are you shushing me for, there's nothing - "

"No, she's right," Harry said quickly, a shadow of anxiety passing over his features. "I hear voices."

"Not snake voices, I hope," Draco muttered under his breath, though he begrudgingly acknowledged that both Granger and Harry were correct. There were a number of voices coming from outside the bedroom.

"I - I think I hear Fred and George," Weasley - who, despite Draco's best efforts, remained Weasley in his mind - said incredulously. "Harry, do you think the Order is here?"

"Do I think my aunt and uncle would have let the Order inside this house?" Harry asked, dripping with sarcasm. "Don't be thick, Ron, really - "

"No, he's right!" Granger hissed, leaning against the door. She backed away, opening her small bag and pointing her wand into it. "Accio extendable ear," she whispered, catching the item as it flew up to her hand and shoving it under the door.

It wasn't as effective as lowering the ear down to the first floor would have been, but it certainly helped. Draco's heart was pounding nervously as he waited, straining to make out the conversation. He was disguised, obviously, which would be helpful enough with strangers, but if they were to encounter someone from Hogwarts who knew full well what he looked like, well. Colored hair and fake glasses could only do so much.

"What else do you need for the polyjuice, Alastor?"

"Mad-eye," Weasley mouthed, and they all looked sharply at him, chastising him for the unnecessary interruption.

"Something of Potter's, of course," Moody grunted back, and Harry's eyes went as wide as Draco had ever seen them.

Another voice entered the exchange. "I'll get it."

"Was that Dudley?" Granger whispered, panicked. "Was that Dudley's voice?"

"I think so," Harry replied in an undertone. He looked down, grimacing. "Shit."

"He's coming up here, right?" Weasley asked nervously. "I assume this is where he'd get something of yours?"

"Hopefully he comes alone," Draco commented, trying not to fidget with his irritating glasses. "What are they doing with polyjuice potion?"

Harry shook his head grimly. "No idea," he said, frowning. "Whatever it is, I don't like it."

Granger yanked the ear back from under the door. "He's coming," she said fretfully, and they all retreated to the back of the room, collectively holding their breath as the door opened.