Potter's Girl / Butterfly Effect.

103. Family Reunited

CHAPTER ONE-HUNDRED AND THREE;

FAMILY REUNITED

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The gang of prisoners lurched and swayed into one another as they landed on a country lane. Cassie's eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness — it was not as dark as it had been in the forest, for the lampposts positioned on either side of the wrought-iron fence provided an eery fog of yellowness.

One of the Snatchers strode to the gates and took them in his beefy hands, rattling them. "How do we get in? They're locked, Greyback, I can't— blimey!" He ripped his hands away in shock, for the iron of the gates was contorting, twisting itself out of the symmetrical bars and into a frightening face, which spoke in a clanging, echoing voice: "State your purpose!"

"We've got Potter!" Greyback shouted delightedly. "We've captured Potter — and Black!"

The gates swung open without a moment's delay, and then men shunted the prisoners through the opening and up the drive toward the manor. Cassie could not keep her nerves at bay — she stood about twenty feet from her probable death, and the length shrunk with every shove given to her shoulder from the Snatcher behind her.

And then they reached the front entrance of the manor. The prisoners were thrown to the gravel before the door, which must have swung open, because light spilled out over all of them.

"What is this?" said a woman's cold voice – a voice that Cassie recognized and hated with such a passion that she snapped her head up instantaneously to glare at Narcissa Malfoy.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.

"Who are you?" Narcissa's eyes did not once glance to the prisoners, but stayed fixated on Greyback.

"You know me." There was some resentment in his voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught Harry Potter."

Narcissa's eyes fell upon Harry, and though his face was still squished together ridiculously from Hermione's curse, Cassie had to admit he was easy to recognize with the wiry glasses and lightning bolt scar. "Follow me," Narcissa said, and Cassie was shoved up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits. She tried not to think about how many of these portraits she might have been related to.

"My son, Draco," said Narcissa, and Cassie's blood boiled in resentment, "is home for holidays. If that is Harry Potter, he will know."

Narcissa led them into a large, formal room; two figures sat in leather chairs at one end and there was an unlit fireplace at the other. The room itself was not dark — on the contrary; it seemed to have sunlight pouring in, despite that it had to have been midnight by then.

One of the figures stood when they saw the group enter. "What is this?" it said, and the familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on Cassie's ears. She was easily panicking now; there was seemly no way out, and it was easy for her fear to mount when she didn't have Harry to ground her.

"They say they've got Potter," said Narcissa, and told her son to come check if it really was Harry. Cassie, unlike the other prisoners, watched her cousin's every move; she did not once take her eyes off of Draco's tall form as he stalked over from the leather chair he had been seated in until he reached Harry and peered into his stung face.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius, avid. "Is it? Is it him?"

"I can't — I can't be sure," said Draco. Cassie nearly exhaled a sigh of relief, if she had not been so cynical of what trick Draco had up his sleeve. The boy before him was clearly Harry, so why lie? Why not just give him up?