The Cask of Firewhiskey
The thousand insults from Harry I had borne as best I could, but the injuries ventured upon my family and myself after the war made me vow revenge. My father, that poor broken shell of a man, dead by the Dementors' kiss. I do not so much mind the death of my father; in fact I am rather grateful that he is gone. It was the way in which it was carried out. Allowing him to die like a common criminal, taking from him the last tattered remains of dignity and with it expediting the fall of my family's name. Turning my mother and myself out of our family estate and relegating us to that tiny hovel in Spiner's End. He did not even stand to say a few kind truths about me at my trial, did not mention that I saved his life with a lie, fought to defend Hogwarts. No instead he left my mother to defend me and save me from prison or worse yet. My mother, who still cries herself to sleep each night, got to share in my fathers down fall and disgrace.
At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitely settled – but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved, precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish, but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes the redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.
I must make it clear that I never once gave Harry any reason to suspect my true intentions. When we met I would give him a pleasant smile and did everything in my power to reassure him that the past was forgotten, and that my life had greatly improved after the war. He had no way of knowing the smiles I passed his way were in secret at the contemplation of his demise.
The key to Harry's downfall lay in his unwavering trust of two people. The first being that ancient panderer Albus Dumbledore, and the second my late godfather Severus Snape. Since Snape's death and the revelation that he had been protecting Harry for all those years, Harry had become remorseful of the poor way he had treated that great man. As well he should.
The sun was setting over Diagon Ally just following the mad rush of the start of another school year when I encountered my friend. He greeted me very enthusiastically, his face beaming and flushed, obviously from too much to drink. His clothes were disheveled and he wore a comically oversized hat which covered a mess of hair, clear signs he had come from a wild party.
"Harry, how fortuitous!" I enthused. "You are looking well this evening. I was just on my way to see a colleague of yours."
"Oh." He replied stumbling back a step. "Which one?"
"Auror Luchesi Amontillado. I have been reading some of Snape's journals and discovered that he may have hidden some items Dumbledore wanted you to have in the catacombs beneath the manor house."
Harry blinked absently several times before my words finally sank in.
"What kind of items? And why at the manor?"
"Why because that would be the last place the Dark Lord would think to look. Why would the Dark Lord search his own headquarters? As to what you might find I only know that there should be a chest containing some of your mum and dads personal affects and apparently a very old bottle of firewhisky."
"Firewhiskey?"
"I have my doubts as to what you might find."
"Firewhiskey."
"The items may not be in the house any longer."
"Firewhiskey!"
"Well, as you are obviously off duty, I am on my way to see Luchesi. If any one can ferret out their hiding place he can. I am sure he will let you know if –"
"Luchesi could not find his bum with both hands and a lumos."
"Yet but some say his prowess for finding hidden or dark objects matches your own."
"Come on, let's go."
"Go where?"
"To the manor house."
"My friend. No; I am forbidden to return to the manor without escort, the ministry has it up for sale to help pay off my family's reparations for the war. Besides you appear to be having a fun night out."
"Nonsense, Ron's bachelor party was winding down, besides they ditched me, or lost me I can't tell which right now."
"Harry let's be realistic, it is late, who knows what condition the catacombs are in, or what safe guards are still in place down there."
"Draco you worry too much. I am an Auror now. I will escort you, and as for any safe guards or wards that we might encounter, I will deal with them. I am one third of the golden trio after all. Firewhiskey!"
Having made his decision Harry took me by the elbow and apparated us both to the gates of Malfoy Manor.
The wards protecting the house were weak and easily dissolved with a wave of Harry's wand. The imposing stone façade appeared unchanged in the darkness just as it had in my child hood. It was upon entering the main hall that the extent of the neglect of the past few years materialized. Silver moon light streamed through broken windows, stone statues knocked over and broken and pieces of destroyed furniture littered the rooms. It was evident that after the fall of the Dark Lord and my eviction a great mob of people had descended on the house and exacted their revenge on it. We walked silently through trashed rooms with slanderous, insidious filth scrawled on the walls before finally arriving in the dinning hall. With a silent wave of my wand one of the panels on the wall dissolved, revealing the dark passage to the cellar and the catacombs beyond.
"Lumos," we uttered almost in unison. A bright ball of light erupting from out wand tips. The landing of the cellar was bathed in a soft glow of light. A biting cold surrounded us causing an involuntary shiver.
"The Firewhiskey?" he asked.
"If the journal entry is accurate it is further back beyond the cellar in the catacombs. But look." I said pointing to the wall to our right. "The mortar around the stones is coming loose and moisture is beginning to seep in. The passage way is only going to get worse the deeper in we go."
He looked at me his eyes glazed with alcohol. "You fear a cave in?" He asked at last.
"Come," I said with decision, "we will go back; your health is precious. You are rich, respected admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you could be hurt, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchesi-."
"Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco." Harry quickly tapped my arm. "I defeated Voldemort. I think I can handle whatever we encounter down here."
"I did not mean to alarm you." I replied. "I only want you to use some caution. Here. A drink will help fight off the cold." I reached down and picked up a discarded wine bottle that had survived the destruction. I uncorked it and offered it to my friend.
He raised the bottle to his lips with a leer. He paused and gave me a friendly nod.
"I drink," he said. "To your future happiness."
"And I to your long life."
He took my arm and we walk the long length of the cellar. The floor gradually sloped beneath us, leading us deeper underground. At the far back was a solid oak door heavily bolted that lead to the family catacombs. A gentle tap from my wand caused the heavy door to slowly creek open. We walked on the passageway seaming to grow ever darker and danker. The old musty smell of death lingered about us trying to wrap us up in it's shivering arms. We passed rows of sealed vaults form generations past some bearing the Malfoy family crest some bearing the seal of a family related to us by marriage.
"These catacombs," he said, "are extensive."
"The Malfoys," I replied, "were a great and numerous family."
Harry paused for a moment pointing at a family crest set into the wall. "What is this one?"
I held my wand tip close to get a better look at the engraving. The crest showed a large human foot crushing a serpent; the snake's fangs buried in the heel "The Montresors," I finally answered. "They married into the Malfoy family generations ago. And here look." I said pointing to the lettering at the base of the crest. "Their family motto Nemo me impune lacessi."
"Impressive," he slurred staggering deeper into the darkness.
We passed countless sealed tombs and moved through thick cobwebs as we continued our slow descent into the earth. After some distance I stopped and grabbed Harry by the elbow.
"The masonry looks even more unstable in this part. See there is an almost steady stream of water dripping down the walls. Look how it forms small streams at our feet, we must be beneath the lake on the grounds by now. And worse yet, I believe I feel the presence of some dark magic here. Come, we will go back before it is too late."
"It is nothing," He said. "Let us go on. But first another drink of the wine."
I handed him the bottle which he emptied in a few large gulps. His eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upward with a gesture I did not understand.
I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement – a grotesque one.
"You do not understand?" He asked.
"No," I replied.
"Then you can not produce a corporeal patronus?"
"Yeah, yes I can."
"You? Impossible! A Slytherin?"
"I can produce a corporeal patrons," I replied. "Snape taught me."
"Show me" he said.
I took my wand and aimed it before me, uttering the words Snape had taught me. "Expecto Patronum." A serpent made of light and smoke shot from my wand tip and slithered up the passageway before disappearing.
"You jest," he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. "But let us proceed to the Firewhiskey."
"So be it," I said, extending my wand tip before us and offering him my arm for support. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the firewhiskey. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our wand tips to dim to a soft glow.
This dank tomb was one of the oldest in the catacomb system bones were piled against the walls and stacked in some places to the low vaulted ceiling above. Three sides of the crypt were still arranged in this fashion. On the forth wall the bones had been moved aside and placed in a great pile on the ground. Within the wall uncovered by the displaced bones we saw a smaller recess, about one and a half meters deep, perhaps one meter wide and in height 2 meters. The space seemed to have been constructed for no special purpose, but formed merely the space between two colossal supports for the roof of the catacombs. At its back was a wall of solid granite.
Harry held his wand tip up higher trying without success to see into the dark opening.
"Proceed," I said. "If Snape's journals are to be believed then the firewhiskey should be in there. As for Luchesi-"
"He is a git," interrupted my friend as he stepped unsteadily forward; I followed at his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A second later I had him chained to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about one meter, horizontally. From one of these hung a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the chain about his waist, it took a mater of seconds to secure it. He was too much astonished to resist.I plucked his wand from his hand and secured it in my back pocket ensuring him no means of escape. I stepped back from the wall and admired my handy work.
"Pass your hand," I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the dampness. Indeed it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave first there is one little matter that I must attend to."
"The firewhiskey!" stammered my friend, not yet recovered from his astonishment.
"True," I replied, "the Firewhiskey."
As I spoke I set to work moving the pile of bones on the floor. Before long I had uncovered a pile of building stones mortar and trowel. With these materials I enthusiastically began to wall up the opening of the niche. I had barely finished the first layer of stones when I discovered the intoxication of my friend had worn off. The first hint of this was a low moaning cry. It was not the sound of a drunken man, then came a long stubborn silence. I continued my work laying the second, third and fourth layer of stone; and then I heard the sounds of heavy breathing and great straining on the chain. I stopped my work and sat back upon a pile of bones so that I could more thoroughly enjoy the sounds of struggle. After a few minutes the struggle ceased and silence returned. I arose and continued my work laying the fifth, six and seventh layer of stone. The wall now stood chest high. I pushed my wand over the top to cast a few tenuous rays of light on my captive.
A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back.I stood silently for a few seconds recovering my nerve as the screams continued. I reproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who clamored. I re-echoed – I aided – I surpassed them in volume and strength. I did this, and the clamorer grew still.
It was now almost midnight, and my work was nearly complete. I finished laying the rows of heavy stone leaving just one small opening at about head height for the last. I bent to pick up the last stone, struggling with its weight when I heard a low laugh emanate from the niche that made the hairs on the back of my head stand on end. It was followed by a low sad voice that I had trouble recognizing as Harry's.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! – He! – He! – A very good joke Draco, you got me with this one. We will have many laughs about this one at my house. He! – He! – He! – Over drinks and dinner. – He! He! He!"
"The firewhiskey." I said.
"He! He! He! – He! He! He! – Yes the firewhiskey. But it's getting late. They will be waiting for us at my place, Ginny and the rest. Come on get me out of here and lets's go."
"Yes," I said. "Let's go." I removed Harry's wand from my back pocket and held it before the opening of the niche. One hand grasped the handle, the other the tip. My hands bent the wand, causing the wood to splinter and finally with a satisfying pop, snap in two. I pushed each piece through the opening hearing them land on the floor behind the wall.
"FOR THE LOVE OF MERLIN, DRACO!"
"Yes," I said. "For the love of Merlin."
Wishing to be done with this chore I moved the last stone into place and plastered it into position. I replaced the pile of bones back against my new masonry and disillusioned the remaining tools and supplies. No one would ever think to look behind them. No magic would ever be able to reveal the secret of that wall, for how could magic uncover what no magic had created. As I left the small crypt I could barely make out the low sad moan of some poor trapped creature. No one had disturbed the resting-place of my ancestors for centuries…and it would be centuries more before they were disturbed again.
Please Note: I've a great debt of gratitude to my beautiful wife and brilliant beta for her encouragement in my writing this, my first fanfiction. Mrs. Milfoy - you are a goddess. I worship at your feet, my perfect pure blood sorceress, and know I am truly unworthy. Also, and most importantly, I bow to Edgar Allan Poe - a masterful writer, a magician of words. His Cask of Amontillado is a favorite of my youth.