"Turned. To. Stone," said Moody slowly, cackling, rubbing his hands together. "Now there's a fitting end for all Death Eaters."
He glanced at Snape as he said it.
Everyone else around the table seemed to have realised, from Molly Weasley's example, that Draco just might have feelings. They carefully refrained from any comment.
"You're positive the house elf's story was contained?" asked Shacklebolt, smoothly moving the Order back onto what really mattered. "And nobody else ever knew that Lucius had the boys?"
Draco was the one who answered, his voice almost dead. "Lucius made it pretty clear that he hadn't told anyone about us being here. He was going to break us and then gloat about it."
"More to the point," Harry added, "he was afraid to present me to Voldemort before he was sure that I wouldn't be able to escape with more wild magic. Kind of ironic, considering what happened in the end. Besides, it wasn't like he'd planned to snatch us that day. It was just his good luck that we crossed paths. Well, his bad luck, I guess, considering."
"It's just terrible what that man put you through. Both of you." Molly glanced from Harry to Draco and back, her concern clearly encompassing both of them. "Are you bearing up, dears? I feel just wretched. Such horrible things you've seen. But the best balm for all of it is a loving home, of course, and I've no doubt that Severus is providing you one." By the end, she was smiling.
Snape wasn't. Those twin splotches of colour were back in his cheeks.
"We're having a bit of a holiday for a few days," said Draco.
"Oh, I'm sure you need one, dear--"
"Your attention, please," interrupted the headmaster. "The primary purpose of tonight's meeting was to inform you all that Remus will soon begin to impersonate Lucius Malfoy on a full-time basis. He is to be our key contact in Voldemort's inner circle. We are allowing a small span of time to elapse before this begins, so Remus can claim to have been attacked by Order members and injured. This will allow him some excuse as to why his speech, memories, or behaviour might not perfectly match those of the real Lucius Malfoy."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Normally this information would not be known by so many Order members. In this case, however, you must all understand that from this point forward, 'Lucius Malfoy' and indeed, Malfoy Manor itself, must be left strictly alone. Please observe this with the utmost care."
Moody snorted. "Right you are about that. Be a shame to finally kill that no-good bastard at last only to find out we'd actually eliminated our best advantage."
"It'd be a shame to accidentally kill Remus, you mean," said Harry fiercely, his fists clenching atop the table.
"That too--"
"Harry," said the headmaster quietly, "I welcome your participation in the Order, as well as your brother's, but both your memberships are on a provisional basis. You must watch your temper."
Harry didn't see why he had to, when it seemed like nobody else did, but then again, nobody else had wild magic like his. So, maybe Dumbledore had a point.
"All right," he said, trying not to sound too petulant.
"Order members not present will also be informed to make no moves against Lucius Malfoy," continued Dumbledore.
"Or my mother," interrupted Draco.
The headmaster nodded. "Yes, yes of course. Thank you for clarifying that, Draco. Though I'm sure it was understood already. Narcissa Malfoy will also be left strictly alone for the duration."
"The duration!"
"Draco, we will discuss the matter later," said Severus calmly. "I know you must want the best for your mother, but there is nothing to be done now save allow Lupin to proceed."
Sighing, Draco nodded, slumping a little in his chair.
"I believe that is all," said Dumbledore. "Unless anyone has any questions?"
There were a few, but nothing very significant, in Harry's view. Actually, they reminded him a little of some of the questions he'd heard asked in class. Apparently, some adults were a little like students when it came to listening and paying attention.
Harry had expected everyone to leave when the meeting ended, but first there was the sort of socializing that reminded him of the common room after a Quidditch win. Well, maybe not as rowdy, though at one point the grown-ups came close. Tonks, laughing hard at something Dumbledore had said, accidentally flung her coffee into Moody's lap. The sudden burn had caused him to start so badly that his magic eye had fallen out and had begun rolling along the kitchen table, finally to sail straight into Mrs Weasley's bosom as she leaned forward to give Tonks her handkerchief.
Harry died with laughter, but tried not to show it. Well, not much.
The Aurors were the first to leave, followed by the Weasleys, who had loitered for an additional quarter of an hour while Molly fussed over "the poor, dear children." The headmaster and Professor McGonagall were just leaving now, having just worked out a new class schedule with Snape. Harry wanted to know what that was all about, but Snape was currently engrossed in conversation with Lucinda Lupin.
Harry wandered over there, deciding that even if he couldn't ask about the class schedule, he could at least get to know Remus' aunt a bit. After 10 minutes of listening to his father and her discussing the cumulative affect of various potions ingredients on curses, though, he felt ready to cry from boredom.
He decided that a better way to kill time while he waited for Snape to take them back to Devon would be to take Draco on a tour of the house. Maybe he could even entice Draco to take a little interest in the Black inheritance.
As it turned out, though, his brother was deep in conversation with Remus. When Harry saw Draco conjure a quill and parchment and begin scribbling furiously, he knew they'd be at it for an hour at least. It was nice to see, anyway, Draco and Remus working together to make sure all would go well at Malfoy Manor.
For lack of anything else to do, Harry decided to go have a look around Sirius' library. After two days of almost constant flying, some time with a good book might be just the thing. Short stories, maybe, something like that. Or adventures like Lockhart's, only ones that weren't total lies.
When he crossed the threshold to the book-lined room, Harry heard something that made him stop cold.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the conquering hero. Come to gloat, have you, Potter?" asked Lucius Malfoy.
Harry whirled to the side, wand out. Even though he knew better, he half expected to see Malfoy lounging in a library chair. In actuality, it was the portrait that had spoken. Propped up against a bookshelf, the painted Lucius looked a lot calmer than the last time Harry had seen him. The image wore a sneering expression and had its arms crossed.
Harry knew what he ought to do: turn on his heel and walk out of the room without even speaking to the portrait. He actually tried to do just that, but he found he couldn't. It wasn't a matter of gloating; it was something else entirely.
Everyone seemed to think he should feel bad for what he'd done. Oh, they said he shouldn't, but they all assumed that he did. Which meant they thought that any normal person would feel awful to have caused a death like that. But Harry didn't feel awful in the least. And he sort of wanted to see if he could. Maybe speaking with the portrait would drive it home to him what he'd done. Maybe then, he'd be able to feel some remorse.
"I didn't know you were in here," Harry said calmly.
"Just come to do a little Dark Arts research, then?" the portrait mocked.
"There aren't any books like that in here," said Harry. He thought there might have been once, considering the Black family history, but his father and Remus would have cleared all those away when they'd purged the house the previous autumn.