CH-11

I meet Shacklebolt's eyes steadily, prepared.

Then I feel the familiar sensation of a foreign mind probing into mine. I don't restrict his movement in my mind, knowing that he can't get behind any essential walls.

I'm four years old, running around in the vast gardens surrounding the Manor, followed by a house elf ordered to make sure of my safety.

He moves out of my childhood memories and skips forward a few years.

I'm walking out onto the Quidditch pitch with the Slytherin team, and we intercept the Gryffindor team. I recognize the way that Weasley and Granger run toward us. Words are exchanged between the captains. Aw, hell. Why did he happen to pick this memory?

I try to tune myself out, but I still hear those three words clearly in the voice of my twelve-year-old self. Filthy little Mudblood. Fuck.

He doesn't notice my discomfort. Aha, at least this means I've gotten even better at hiding.

He pushes on, going past my Hogwarts years.

I'm sitting in a meeting with other masked Death Eaters. Voldemort sits at the head of the table, looking extremely pleased. He dismisses everyone except for Aunt Bella and me. My father lingers in the doorway, but he leaves too. Voldemort congratulates me on a job well done with the Patil family, and I accept the praise in silence. Aunt Bella is positively beaming.

Shacklebolt is clearly interested in what I did to the Patils, so I produce the relevant memories for him.

This had been one of my more risky schemes. I was ordered to kill the twins and both their parents. Even the family dog had to go. Instead, I placed one of their distant relatives under the Imperius Curse and forced him to convince them that their lives were in grave danger. They went away with him to New Delhi.

When I knew they were out of the country, I exploded two pigs in their home. Disgusting and perhaps slightly inhumane, but it effectively convinced the Death Eaters who came to check on the Patils that I had done the job quite well.

After watching the memories that I pulled to the surface, he retreats from my mind. I'm surprised that he didn't stay longer to keep probing.

"The Patils are alive?" he says.

"Unless the Death Eaters found them in New Delhi, they are perfectly safe."

The others exchange surprised looks.

"Why did you do that?" Shacklebolt asks.

"Not out of the goodness of my heart, if that's what you're asking," I reply. "I just don't particularly like killing people so I avoid it whenever it's possible."

I can tell the other three Order members are itching to ask what exactly happened to the Patils, but Shacklebolt seems to be some sort of leader, and while he's still busy interrogating me, I'm sure they won't pester him.

He keeps his eyes on mine for another minute, keeping mum.

I wonder what's going on in his head. I'm not really concerned, just curious.

Finally, he speaks, "Malfoy, I don't trust you."

I smirk. "Surprise, surprise."

His face remains dispassionate. "You are going to have to let me look into your mind without interference if you want to gain my trust."

"I didn't interfere," I say innocently.

"Oh yes, you did," he replies. "Your walls are so cleverly concealed that they seem to be continuous with the rest of your thoughts. You feel absolutely no discomfort when there's a foreign presence in your mind. It'd be too easy for you to stow memories away."

"What gave me away?"

"I have years of experience. I can tell when difference there are barriers, cleverly concealed or not."

I nod. "Good for you. Well, it's a good thing that I'm not trying to gain your trust. I just want the war to be over, and I'd prefer it if the Light side won. I'm hoping Potter relayed what I said."

"That he did," Lupin says.

"He also said that you want Hermione Granger to be your contact," Professor McGonagall adds.

"True," I say.

"We haven't moved onto the issue of who is to be your contact just yet," Shacklebolt says.

"I won't let anyone inside my head with no restrictions," I say. "If you can't accept that, I'll leave."

Nymphadora laughs. "Leave? You're bound and wandless. How do you expect to leave?"

"I have my ways," I reply. "I already gave a scroll of information about shift changes at Hogwarts to Potter. I trust he handed them over to you?"

Shacklebolt holds up a scroll of parchment. "We've already made a copy. It's being checked as we speak."

"Efficient," I comment.

There's a long pause.

"It's up to you now," I say. "I've made my offer. If you don't want my help, just say so."

"Your decision was rather unexpected," Professor McGonagall says. "I don't feel like the rationale that you simply want the war to be over is enough to explain why you've come."

"People do unexpected things," I reply. I shift my gaze to my cousin. "I never would have expected you to marry a werewolf, Nymphadora."

"You know better than to call me that. And so what if I married a werewolf?"

I shake my head. "I'm not judging you, just saying that it was unexpected."

Another pause.

I understand that they're reluctant to trust me, being the son of Lucius Malfoy and nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange. And I don't exactly have a clean record myself. But this is taking up too much time. I don't know how late it is, and I have to get back to the Manor before sunrise.

"I don't have all night," I say. "I'd appreciate it if you made up your minds soon."

"Very well," Shacklebolt says. "I will allow you to speak with Miss Granger, but I want another look inside your mind before my final decision."

"Fine."

"Tonks, please tell Miss Granger that should we accept Malfoy's offer, she will be his contact."

"Just a moment," I say as Nymphadora gets to her feet. They all look at me, and I explain, "I don't want her to know that she was my choice."

"Why not?" Nymphadora asks.

"Just consider it a favor for me," I say. "I've already put my life on the line for you lot simply by being here."

Shacklebolt nods his consent.

"I'll tell her that we chose her because she's an Occlumens, then," Nymphadora says, walking past me toward the door.

"Thank you."

Her footsteps stop just behind me, and it isn't hard to guess that she's surprised by the two words that just came out of my mouth.

"You're welcome."

Then I hear the opening and closing of a door, and I meet Shacklebolt's eyes, prepared for round two.

This time I feel him scrabbling at the walls of my mind, trying to find a weak spot. He's uninterested in the memories that I've left in the open, trying for the ones that I've stashed away.

If I could chuckle right now, I would. Good luck to him.

When he can't find any weak spots, he starts ramming into the barriers repeatedly. A mild headache starts building up. This is getting annoying. But it's more annoying than it is painful. When Aunt Bella tries to drill through my defenses, it hurts like hell.

I don't know how much time passes before he finally gives up on me, but when he withdraws from my mind, I allow myself to relax.

Before anyone can speak, there's a sharp rap on the door.

Shacklebolt clears his throat and says, "Well, I said that you could speak to Miss Granger alone. She's here now. If you try anything—"

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