he leapt to his feet, ran towards Dodders and hurled himself on top of the boy.
Tadpole had just thrown up his breakfast all over himself.
Draco belatedly noted that porridge had apparently been served at breakfast that morning.
**
Hogwarts' Head Boy and Girl were seated in Professor McGonagall's office, currently digesting the dark news that there had been an attack on campus the previous evening and that two Aurors were missing.
Presently, Dumbledore was at the Ministry in talks with Arthur Weasley and his advisors. The school Governors had only just been informed.
One of the missing Aurors was Nymphadora Tonks.
As a direct result, the official seventh year graduation ceremony to be held on the following Wednesday would be cancelled, for what would be the second time in more than nine centuries of Hogwarts' history. Graduating students would be receiving their testamurs via Owl Post. Notices had already been sent to parents to be ready to collect any children who wished to return home early.
Professor McGonagall thus attributed Hermione's sharp gasp and sudden paleness to the awful news. The Head Girl had grasped onto the arm rests of her chair with white knuckled fingers.
"We will re-open, Miss Granger. This is a temporary precaution," the Gryffindor Head of House assured. "After all, this is hardly the first time Hogwarts has faced closure and lived to tell the tale."
"Hermione?" Blaise leaned in towards her, frowning at her erratic breathing. He waved a hand in front of her face, but she didn't seem to notice. She was blinking rapidly, but seeing nothing. "Er, Professor, I don't think she's well."
McGonagall walked around her desk. "Miss Granger, are you alright?"
She wasn' t. She was dizzy and short of breath and there was a strange ringing in her ears. Something had happened to Draco...
More questions might have been asked, had the door to McGonagall's office not flown open to reveal Ron, the front of his school shirt soaked with blood. His eyes were wide and utterly frantic.
"Professor" he wheezed, out of breath. "Pleasecome quick! I think Draco Malfoy's just been killed!"
Chapter Twenty-Five
Draco stood in the foyer, hidden neatly behind a grandfather clock. The floor was icy and he was barefooted. He waited until the chiming of the clock finished and then listened very carefully for the voices that were coming from the library.His parents were awake, despite the hour, and were obviously having another argument. That was nothing new to Draco, though it was the topic of the argument that had caused him to investigate further. He knew he'd be in trouble if he was caught out of bed, but he decided that he'd risk his father's formidable temper, for George.
He would risk a lot for George.
It wasn't until Draco heard his mother say his name, was his curiosity genuinely piqued. He was awake anyway, and in much too much of an excitable state to go back to sleep. The search for George outweighed any other concerns. Poor Toolip had been run ragged accompanying her young charge through the Manor grounds, looking for the dog.
There was no sign of him anywhere, no matter that Draco had put out the best cuts of meat Chef had to offer and had called and called for the dog until his throat was raw.
"I won't have it," his father was saying. He was talking in a low, sinister voice which meant that he was passed annoyance and had progressed to anger. It was not wise to be around Lucius when he spoke that softly. Regular people tended to get scared and make hasty retreats. But his mother was not 'regular people'.
Draco crept down the corridor, past old family portraits, some of which gave him conspiratorial winks. He wanted to smile in return but this was not a happy adventure. George was lost and his parents were angry with each other.
He hoped one thing had nothing to do with the other.
The double doors to the library were wide open and candlelight cleaved out into the darkness, lighting the patch of hallway directly outside the doors. It didn't seem odd to Draco that he was not afraid of the dark. Magic was light and he carried it wherever he went, or so Mother had told him. This left no logical reason for fear.
Draco peeked around the door, taking care to flatten his fringe, lest his parents notice that a bit of messy, bright, blond hair was sticking out around the door. He realised that his toes were probably visible too, and quickly