Chapter 2
The Hangleton Towns
It was two hours later when Draco managed
to find his way out of the clearing. The sky, now a dark gray, did nothing
to brighten his mood. With his clothes sopping of rain water and his
stomach empty, Draco could not remember a time when he had been in a
worse situation.
He trudged over the last few tree roots
before he came to a stop at the edge of the forest. It was late now,
making it hard to see anything. There was a grassy hill in front of
him that obscured his view; all that surrounded the hill was a vast
ocean of green grass. Draco began to reluctantly climb the hill, but
almost at once, slipped onto the wet grass, falling flat on his face.
He grimaced and spat out several blades of grass. Latching on to a slightly
larger tuft, he slowly climbed.
Draco looked below at the view from
the top of the hill. Below him seemed to be a small town, littered with
seemingly abandoned, cottage-sized houses. As far as he could see, there
was no human activity within the town, making Draco feel suddenly queasy.
His stomach tightened as the thick silence racked through his ears.
Surrounding the village was more of the same tall grass- a plain that
extended as far as Draco could see. He weighed his options and could
see no other choice.
He carefully sat down on the grass
and winced as he experience a rush of uncomfortable coldness. Gripping
the ground, he warily slid down the slope. The ground soon leveled out
and dusting his behind free of grass, he stood up. The silence which
had unnerved him at the peak of the hill seemed even more eerie now
that he was this close to the town. He tightened his grip on his wand
within the folds of his robes, approached the gravel path that wound
its way into the town, and began to walk.
Draco squinted his eyes. As he neared
the edge of the village, he could make out writing on a wooden post
topped with wooden arrows pointing in various directions. ‘Great Hangleton’,
one read, pointing into the town. The arrow below it pointed to his
right and in the same peeling letters read ‘Little Hangleton’. The
last arrow, pointing towards the forest from which Draco had just come
from spelled out ‘Hangleton Forest’. The oddity of why the Dark
Lord would choose such a place to hold a gathering flickered through
his mind, but Draco ignored the fleeting thought. Taking one last glance
at the forest behind him, he proceeded forwards.
It soon became painfully aware to Draco
that Great Hangleton was indeed a Muggle town. There was nothing to
suggest otherwise; no wizarding shops, no passing owls; the entire street
itself seemed to lack that magical ‘presence’ that Draco had grown
so accustomed to. Instead, the streets were filled with busy looking
people, all dressed in Muggle clothing, walking, in cars, or riding
bicycles, all whilst chatting amicably. Draco glanced down at his wand
and cursed at his misfortune. Being underage, the wand held so tightly
in his right hand was rendered virtually useless. Still, Draco clung
even tighter, for the mere feeling of the magical stick made him feel
a little more at ease…though, at the same time, he dreaded the possibility
of him actually needing to use his wand.
The street led Draco through the ivy
entangled houses, deeper and deeper into the town. Countless of pairs
of eyes gazed at him through dusty windows, squinting through the darkness,
but soon would disappear as they would firmly draw their curtains to
a close. Those on the street would look at him peculiarly, muttering
about ‘fashion get-ups’, but would hurriedly look away once Draco
made eye contact. Occasionally, loud raucous teenagers loitering on
the streets would call at Draco, jeering with their drunken voices.
When this would happen, Draco would veer towards the opposite side of
the path, lowering his sopping head. A wave of shame rushed over Draco;
here he was, an official Death Eater, cowering at the sight of some
pathetic Muggles. Angrily, he kicked a small rock towards the side of
the path.
As he walked on, worrisome questions
began to explode within his head like lit fireworks. Waves of realization
crashed him over and over again as the task the Dark Lord had just given
him clicked within his brain. The mere thought of killing Dumbledore
made him want to snap his wand and go live with the Muggles…what would
he do when faced with the man himself? He felt his hands go clammy as
he strayed his thoughts towards his mother. Death was certain, not only
for him, but for his family as well if he failed. A nasty voice in the
back of his head whispered venomously, “The Dark Lord knows you will
fail, that’s why he picked you”. But Draco desperately closed
his mind to the voice. He refused to believe that the Dark Lord only
picked him as means of a punishment- just a ploy in which to punish
the Malfoy family for his father’s mistakes…for after all, he was
chosen, chosen above all others, was he not.
Draco skidded to a halt. In the midst
of his troubled thoughts, he had reached a fork in the road without
even realizing it. One trail led towards his immediate right, towards
Little Hangleton- the other led deeper within Great Hangleton. Draco
weighed his options; if he went further into Great Hangleton, the chances
of him finding a way home grew no more probable…however, he had no
idea what lay ahead for him in the latter. Both options presented problems.
Breathing heavily, Draco walked towards his right. At least there was
a possibility that Little Hangleton was different than its neighboring
town. Draco’s mouth watered as thoughts of Hogsmeade and the Three
Broomsticks filled his mind, and he hoped that there was something similar
in Little Hangleton.
The walk to Little Hangleton was much
shorter than the walk from the forest to the fork in the path. In less
than ten minutes, Draco could see the first few houses. The houses in
Little Hangleton were very much like those in Great Hangleton but much
shabbier, and fewer in number. The roofs had missing planks, and the
small gardens were overwhelmed with weeds…But Draco began to notice
several strange occurrences as he walked further into the town. Unlike
Great Hangleton, there were no cars parked on the street; in fact, Draco
could not spot any other types of Muggle transportation around. There
was no one hanging around on the streets, but instead, it appeared to
be that every single inhabitant was inside their houses. While Great
Hangleton seemed to be bustling with activity, Little Hangleton seemed
to be drained of any life whatsoever. No one gazed at him with a funny
look on their face through the glass of their windows; rather, all the
curtains were tightly drawn, and their doors firmly shut. Draco felt
suddenly very alone and very scared by himself in the stranded road.
He stopped walking and began to turn to head back in the opposite direction
when he suddenly felt a hand grip his shoulder.
Darco yelped with surprise and stumbled
forward. Instinctively, he reached for his wand and spun around, the
stick brandished in his hand.
“Hey, hey, no need for that mate!”
The speaker was a black-haired gangly boy who appeared to be the same
age as Draco. His face, scattered with golden freckles, was filled with
uncertainty mingled with fright.
Draco did not lower his wand, but narrowed
his eyes.
“I’m serious. Lower your wand!”
The boy’s blue eyes flickered back atnd forth nervously between Draco
and his wand.
The boy’s comment caught Draco off
guard. “You’re a wizard?” he asked warily.
“No. I just happen to assume that
every stick in the world when pointed at me is a wand.”
Draco thrusted the wand menacingly.
“Funny.”
The boy’s eyes twinkled. “I thought
so. Come on now, no need for the wand. I promise I’m not armed.”
He reached into his pockets and turned them inside out.
Draco lowered his wand to his side,
but did not loosen his grip. “Who are you?”
“Roger’s the name. Yours?”
The gears in Draco’s brain whirled
quickly. Almost everyone in Britain knew of the Malfoy’s connection
to the Dark Lord. “Dennis Creevey,” he said quickly.
“You’re not from around here, are
you?”
Draco chose to ignore his question.
He suddenly became aware that several pairs of eyes were looking at
him through the folds of their curtains. “Why is everyone inside?”
Roger paled slightly and glanced at
the surrounding houses. “Actually, we should be inside too. Come on
then.” Motioning for Draco to follow him, he started jogging up the
street.
“Wait,” called Draco.
Roger stopped and turned around, tapping
his foot impatiently.
“Why should I go with you?”
Roger smirked. “Of course. Because
I’m one of the many lined up to help you out.” He waved his hand
vaguely towards the deserted street.
Draco resisted the urge to roll his
eyes. Roger’s lack of clever humor was pathetic. “How do I know
this isn’t a trap?”
“You don’t.”
Draco stared at Roger, his mind working
very fast. If he ditched Roger now, there was no way he’d find his
way back home…but on the other hand, he’d rather be alive and not
home than dead in some stranger’s house.
Clenching his teeth, Draco muttered,
“Fine. But I have some questions. Like first off-.” But Roger had
already resumed his jogging.
As Draco quickened his pace to keep
up with Roger, the queasy feeling returned to his stomach. He hadn’t
known Roger for more than two minutes, and here he was, following him
to Merlin knew where. He kept his eyes steady on Roger’s hands, incase
they made any sudden moves; eyeing his muscular calves, Draco wasn’t
sure he could win a physical fight with him (though he’d never say
that out loud, of course).
“Almost there,” Roger said. “Ahh,
here we are.”
In front of them was a small house,
identical to all the others in the town. The only difference was that
this one, if possible, was in even worse condition than the others.
The entire house itself, which was slightly leaning towards the left,
had large chunks of brick missing from its sides. The few flowers in
the small garden were wilting, and there were large gaping holes within
the planks of wood that comprised the porch. Draco was certain of one
thing; his mother would have fainted in two seconds flat if she saw
it.
“Home sweet home,” Roger grinned.
Steering clear of the holes, he made his way into the house.
Draco, feeling more nervous than ever
before, followed.
The inside of the house was no better
than the outside. It was littered with various debris, and piles of
assorted papers were scattered on the floor and table. From what Draco
could see, there were only two small rooms, a single corridor, plus
one sitting room. Moth eaten couches were the only furniture, besides
one tilting wooden table.
“Why are we here?” Draco blurted.
Roger raised his eyebrows. “You’re
right. We’re missing the grand party that’s going on out there.”
He jerked his head towards the street.
Draco felt his cheeks flush. “Don’t
talk to me-“
“If you recall, you are in my
house are you not.”
Draco said nothing in reply, but merely
took a seat on one of the couches. “Why isn’t anyone outside?”
he asked. “You talk like it’s always like this.”
“You’ve heard of You-Know-Who,
I’m assuming.”
“Of course,” Draco replied indignantly.
“Good,” Roger said. “Well, there’s
your answer. You-Know-Who.”
“How does the Dark Lo- I mean, You-Know-Who
have to do with anything?”
Roger laughed. “It has to do with
everything. Little Hangleton’s mainly a wizarding town, except a few
Muggles, and even they don’t go out much. People are frightened out
of their minds. It’s a small town, Dennis. People get frightened easily.
No one around here stays out much.” For some reason, Roger looked
increasingly bitter about this.
Draco decided to not question Roger’s
change in mood and pressed on. “Well why were you out?”
“Nosy one, you are.”
Draco coolly stared back.
“Anyway,” Roger continued. “I
was returning home, you know, after visiting Great Hangleton. You must
have passed it-”
Draco nodded.
“Nice place, isn’t it? Loads of
fun; it’s way better than this dump. I really wasn’t supposed to
be out actually…past curfew and everything. But that’s beside the
point. Continuing on, I saw you walking all alone, and I hadn’t seen
you around here before, so I just sort of…”
“Scared the hell out of me?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Roger replied
with a smile.
Draco didn’t return the friendly
gesture.
“So what are you doing here anyway?
I know I haven’t seen you around.”
“I’m from London,” Draco made
up. “I’m visiting my cousin. We were flying around on our broomsticks
when we crashed into the forest. My broom is beyond repair, so I left
it there. I couldn’t find my cousin after I recovered, so I walked
out of the forest and followed that gravel path near Great Hangleton.”
“Ahh, I see. Are you on break or
something?”
“Yes. The school year starts soon.
Don’t you go to Hogwarts? I’ve never seen you around.”
At this, Roger flushed a deep red.
“Oh, well, you know, my parents can’t really afford it. I’m home
schooled though,” he added hurriedly.
After an awkward pause, Draco asked,
“Great Hangleton- it’s a Muggle town, right?” He couldn’t help
the distaste that crept into his voice.
But apparently, Roger hadn’t noticed.
“Yeah, it is,” he said. “It’s fantastic, isn’t it?”
Draco raised a pale eyebrow. “Muggles?
Fantastic?” He was beginning to like Roger less and less. Something
about the mischievous twinkle in his eye and his strange adoration of
Muggles unnerved him.
Roger narrowed his eyes. “Yes, fantastic.
Oh Merlin, don’t tell me. You’re one of those pure blooded freaks,
aren’t you?”
“Freaks?” Draco sneered. “I think
you’re the one with the freak-like problem.”
“If you must know, I’m pureblooded
myself.”
“A pureblooded traitor more like
it.”
“Call it what you like,” Roger
snarled quietly. “But blood status is counting less and less now a
days.”
“Not with me,” Draco replied shortly.
Roger didn’t retort, but merely gazed
at Draco imploringly, his blue eyes pouring into Draco’s gray ones.
Draco felt himself grow hot under his steady gaze and found himself
staring at the dusty wooden floor.
Roger suddenly cleared his throat.
“So why are you still here then?”
Draco noted that the friendly tone
in his voice had all but disappeared. “Well I can’t use my wand-
idiotic under-age magic rules. So I’m somewhat stranded here, I suppose.”
He said the last sentence off-handedly, not wanting to seem like he
was asking for anything.
Roger nodded. “Well, you know
where you want to go, right? We’ll wait for my mum to return, and
I’ll ask her to Side-Apparate you back to your Manor. But are you
okay with Apparating with a ‘Muggle lover?’” he added scathingly.
Draco chose not to reply to his last
question, but instead said, “Yeah, that would be good.”
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m fine.” As if on cue,
Draco’s stomach grumbled loudly.
Roger smirked. “Wait here.”
Roger left the sitting room and disappeared
down the corridor, leaving Draco by himself. He slowly got up and paced
around the room. The walls were somewhat well decorated (again, not
up to the standards of Mrs.Malfoy) with floral wallpaper, but peeling
wallpaper nonetheless. They were covered with various pictures, all
black and white; apparently, from what Draco could see, Roger had four
older sisters, bringing the total number of members in the family to
7. Draco smirked as he was strongly reminded of the Weasley family.
He moved towards the table in the center of the room and began rummaging
through the piles of papers. It was clear that Roger’s parents were
not wealthy people- countless of notices were scattered on the table,
all informing the family of new bills, old bills, and mostly, bills
that hadn’t been paid.
Draco strained his ears, trying to
hear Roger walking down the corridor. When he heard nothing but silence,
he continued to look through the stacks of paper. He pushed aside the
large stacks of bills and began to read a small pamphlet placed near
the edge of the table.
“Protecting Your Home and Family
Against Dark Force,” Draco read. He snorted. “Pathetic that
Fudge is.”
He tossed the pamphlet aside and returned
his eyes to the stacks of paper. He frowned as he caught sight of a
pile of newspapers underneath the table. Squatting on his heels, he
bent his head below the table and reached for the pile.
“What- damn!” Draco swore loudly
as he massaged his head. Rubbing his scalp with one hand, he reached
for the pile and placed them on top of the table. He noticed, with a
frown, that they were Muggle newspapers- the pictures were motionless.
He picked up the first newspaper in the pile and began to read the headlining
article:
Mysterious Death
of Local Gardner Puzzles Police
The death of a local gardener, Frank
Bryce, is set to become one of the biggest mysteries that Little
Hangleton has seen in recent years. His untimely death
on July the 20th has shocked not only the townspeople,
but the authorities as well. Bryce was found dead by Mrs. Higgins, a
local teacher who was passing by the
‘Riddle House’, the residence in which Bryce was found in, and noticed
that the door was wide open. “I went in, and the
first thing I noticed was that the
house was very quiet, very eerie,” Mrs.Higgins told us.
“I called out, but got no response. So, I went upstairs, and- and,
there he was. Lying on the floor, eyes wide open… his face was terrified,
his mouth hanging out wide open. For a second, I thought he had passed
out- I couldn’t see any blood you know. But then I felt his pulse,
and I knew.” Mrs.Higgins then proceeded to run out the
‘Riddle House’ and immediately went back home to call the police.
According to the Head Deputy Officer
of Little Hangleton’s police force, Mr. Carleton, Bryce’s murder
is unlike “anything he’s ever seen before”.
“We have all our men working tirelessly on this case, and we
will find whoever has done this,” he
firmly told reporters at a press conference. But some don’t agree.
A medical examiner from Great Hangleton General Hospital has revealed
to reporters information on Frank’s autopsy, and clearly expressed
his doubts in the case and the substantiality of the evidence.
“At the moment, we have been unable to determine Mr.Bryce’s cause
of death,” he began. “As you have all heard, Mr.Bryce was found
three days ago in his home, alone, and very much dead. No signs of struggle
or broken entry were apparent. As I mentioned earlier, the cause of
death has not been uncovered yet…such is due to some strange occurrences
to say the least.” The examiner refused to answer any more questions
on said “strange occurrences”, despite the badgering of many reporters.
To add to the mystery surrounding
this case, coincidentally, another set of murders occurred in the very
same house in which Frank Bryce was killed. Fifty years ago, the original
habitants of the ‘Riddle House’, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, as well as
their son, Tom Riddle, were all found shockingly dead in their house.
Interestingly enough, all three murders presented very similar characteristics
to that of Frank’s. No signs of forced entry or struggle were uncovered;
in fact, all three Riddles exhibited the very same
terrified look on their faces upon discovery that Mrs.Higgins vividly
described. Furthermore, Mr.Bryce was also once the Riddle family’s
gardener, and was, in fact, largely suspected to be involved in their
murders. Though Frank was cleared of any charges, some never
fully trusted him again. “I always thought he was a bit dodgy,”
a source who wishes to remain anonymous claims.
“Even though those charges were dropped, I never trusted Frank for
a second.” Yes, the circumstances surrounding these two mysteries
are indeed very peculiar and will trouble most for some time to come.
However, whatever the truth behind these murders may be, it can be said
with confidence that the town of Little
Hangleton only wishes for Mr.Bryce’s murderer to be brought to justice.
Draco put down the paper and leaned
back in his chair, shocked. He’d never have guessed murders could
have happened in a town like Little Hangleton, never mind such mysterious
ones. And the description Mrs.Higgins provided the paper…it reminded
Draco awfully similar to the effects of the Killing Curse…no struggle,
no blood…
“Why are you staring at the ceiling?
Trying to count the flies or something?”
Draco spun his head around.
Roger stood there holding a tray, smirking.
“Be careful. You’ll get whiplash.”
“Whatever,” Draco muttered.
Roger walked around the couch and dropped
the tray onto the table. “Here,” he said. “Crisps were all I could
find. Sorry I took so long by the way. My kitchen isn’t exactly what
you’d call organized.”
Draco saw Roger’s eyes travel towards
the piles of paper on the desk, which were now scattered over the surface.
“You’ve been snooping I see.”
Draco ducked his head, trying to hide
his blush. “Yeah, well-”
“Don’t apologize. Although now
that I think about it, I don’t think you’re the type of person that
would apologize.”
Roger walked around and took a seat
beside Draco. “I see you’ve been reading the newspapers. Mum was
clearing them out a couple of days ago. But I have no idea why you’d
be interested in them.”
“Do you know anything about this
Frank Bryce’s murder?”
“Oh, yeah, of course. It happened
2 years ago. Strange man, that Frank was. He refused to stop being the
gardener for the ‘Riddle House’, even after the Riddles were murdered…old
man’s stubbornness I suppose.”
“You don’t think-”
“That the murders were wizard-related?
Oh yeah, of course. It’s mainly a wizarding town, as I said, but we
keep ourselves quiet-the Great Hangleton folk and the Muggles here,
they have no idea. That newspaper you were reading- it was from Great
Hangleton. They don’t know about any magic business, but we
here are all pretty confident that it had something to do with it. A
main reason this town is so…quiet is because of Frank’s murder.
It scared people; forced them into seclusion.”
Draco furrowed his eyebrows. “What
about these Riddle people?”
“Oh, Grand-dad told me about them.
They were dead before I was born of course, but from what I’ve heard,
they weren’t very nice people; one of those rich, snobby types. No
one was really broken up about it once they heard. But the real catch
was that they were murdered just like Frank; you probably read about
it, didn’t you? Again, another wizard induced murder. And another
reason for the people of Little Hangleton to be scared.”
Draco couldn’t think of anything
to say to this. Roger was staring off into space, with the same bitter
look plastered on his face.
Suddenly, Roger cleared his throat
and stood up. “One second, let me just find- ahh, here it is.” He
drew his wand out from underneath the couch cushion and dusted off his
hand on his jeans. “Mum should be here any second now. Don’t worry,
you can take the crisps- hey, what was that?”
Draco turned his head to the front
door. The door knob was being turned loudly, shaking the dust off the
ceiling. Draco jumped off the couch and drew his wand.
“Stay back,” he warned Roger.
“Chivalrous,” muttered Roger, as
he too brandished his wand.
BAM! Suddenly, the door swung open,
revealing a rather frazzled looking woman dressed in a long black coat.
“Roger! What is this? Who is this?”
the woman shrieked.
“Oh, hello Mum,” Roger said sheepishly.
He tucked his wand back into his jean pockets. “Er-meet Dennis.”
Draco, realizing that he was pointing
his wand in Roger mother’s face, quickly stuffed it in his cloak.
“Oh-er; Hello there.”
“Hello, Dennis,” she said shortly.
“If you don’t mind me asking-”
“Dennis got stranded in the woods,
Mum,” Roger interrupted. “I was wondering if you could Side-Apparate
him back home.”
“Oh, oh of course!” she said, her
plump face considerably softer. “Poor thing, you must have been scared.”
Draco drew himself up to his full height
and said imperiously, “Oh, I don’t really scare easily.”
Roger’s mother looked considerably
taken aback and said uncertainly, “Well…of course. So, shall we
be leaving soon?” She nervously flickered her eyes between Roger and
Draco.
“Yeah, definitely,” said Roger.
Draco cleared his throat and stuck
out his hand towards Roger.
Roger smirked and shook Draco’s hand.
“What, no thank you?”
“Don’t push it,” Draco replied
coolly.
“Well come along, Dennis. Can’t
be dilly-dallying.” She stretched her arm out towards Draco expectantly
as she held her wand out with the other. “Where are you headed again,
dear?”
“Malfoy Manor.”
“Alright then. Let me just concentrate
for a second.”
“Hey, wait a second,” Roger said
slowly. “Isn’t Malfoy Manor-”
But what Malfoy Manor was, Draco never
found out because before he knew it, Roger’s mother had spun around,
and all of a sudden, it went dark.
Author notes: Thank you for reading! I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a bore. Oh, and please do not worry, for there will be plenty of D/G action to come. Please review, as they help greatly. Thanks :)