Harry fought to keep himself calm and absolutely silent; he was so close now, he couldn't afford to give himself away and blow the whole thing. Still, it was difficult to contain his jubilation. After weeks and weeks of slinking and spying and creeping around, he'd finally done it: he'd caught Draco Malfoy. It had taken a great deal of time and energy, for the Slytherin boy was clever, crafty, and extremely secretive about whatever it was he was doing. He obviously did not want to be followed or observed – a sure sign that he was up to no good – and he was very good at noticing Harry on his trail and giving him the slip.
Tonight, however, Harry had managed to follow along unnoticed due to the fact that his nemesis was encumbered by a distraction. Improbably enough, Malfoy appeared to have abducted a lot of Muggle winter coats – chiefly fur ones – and he was having quite a bit of difficulty transporting the heavy objects down the seventh floor corridor which the two of them now traversed. Harry was half tempted to jump out and offer the other boy a hand, just to see his reaction, but there was more at stake now than such childish games. Malfoy was doing something decidedly sinister, and Harry was about to find out what it was.
Harry was only half surprised to see Malfoy turn back a little past the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, then double back onto the same path yet again. And, of course, he was not surprised at all when a door appeared in the blank wall across from the tapestry, and Malfoy pushed through it with his armload coats. Harry slipped in behind him, hidden securely beneath the invisibility cloak.
It was like stepping into the storage vault of an immense museum. The room was crammed nearly to its high, arched ceiling with old, broken, and dusty things, piled at random in great heaps. Harry would have liked to just stand and look for a moment, but the other boy was not standing about gawking. Instead, he hurried with purpose down the meandering lane that led between and around the piles of rubbish. Harry had no choice but to follow. He couldn't risk losing the enemy he had worked so hard to corner.
Malfoy led him through several twists and turns of the winding path, not even pausing to glance at the many strange objects around him. It was obvious he'd been here many times before and was now focused solely on his destination. After some time, he stopped, letting the heavy coats slide to the ground with obvious relief. Harry took a moment to conceal himself in the shadows against any unfortunate incidents like the one on the train. Then he settled in to watch his enemy.
The light-haired boy walked up to a large, shrouded object and pulled the sheet off, revealing a capacious-looking cabinet of some sort. He flung open the artfully-carved doors, then lifted the top coat off the pile. After holding it up and glancing at the open cabinet, he cursed and let the coat fall again. Then Harry had a bit of a scare, as Malfoy came straight toward him. As quietly as possible, he skirted the edge of the mountain of things behind him to avoid being bumped into and detected. His shoe hit a strange, round object like a turquoise marble wrapped in corroded copper wire and sent it skittering across the floor. Malfoy glanced at it, but did not appear to give it a second thought as he plunged into an apparent search for something. This was very out-of-character for him; he was normally far more wary.
Harry concluded that the Slytherin was approaching the end of his quest and was losing his sense of caution in his excitement. This idea was confirmed by Malfoy's exclamation of triumph as he emerged from the mound with what Harry was pretty certain had once been a towel bar attached to the wall in one of the bathrooms. Harry watched in utter confusion as Malfoy proceeded to fasten the towel bar to the ceiling of the cabinet with a Sticking Charm, then went back to the coats and began hanging them up, one by one, with a pile hangers that had appeared on the floor near them. Harry smiled a little to himself. The Room of Requirement had some very useful properties.
Malfoy stood back to admire his handiwork. Then he shut the doors, tossed the sheet back over the cabinet, and turned to leave. Harry was so stunned that he forgot to follow. This was it? This was what Malfoy had been slinking and slying around about for so long? All this work to catch him in the act of something underhanded, and all Harry had caught was a closet full of coats? There had to be more to this. He could hardly go to Dumbledore with this; Merlin, even Ron and Hermione would laugh him off. 'You'll never believe this: I caught Malfoy hanging up coats in the Room of Requirement!' There was nothing even remotely sinister about that.
But why, exactly, was he doing it? It was not a sinister activity, but it certainly was unusual. Maybe Malfoy was secretly a kleptomaniac and had gone around stealing Muggles' winter coats, and was now trying to hide the evidence. Maybe he'd finally lost it and gone completely loony. Or maybe Harry had. He was starting to seriously wonder if he'd fallen asleep and dreamed the whole bizarre encounter, when footsteps sounded through the room, coming closer. Malfoy was back, and this time he carried a lit candle. His face was stoic, but his eyes were intense. Once again, he dramatically pulled the shroud off the cabinet. Then he slowly opened the left door, and stood there, waiting expectantly.
Nothing happened.
After a moment, his shoulders drooped in defeat. He snuffed out the candle and sat dismally on the floor. Harry was utterly bewildered. What on earth was this? Whatever it was, it had obviously failed. Malfoy's breathing was loud, shallow, and jerky, as though he were trying to hold in tears. Perhaps he had been trying to complete some Dark ritual for Voldemort – although Harry couldn't imagine what sort of ritual would involve hanging coats in a closet, then approaching said closet with a candle. Using the candle to set the thing on fire would certainly seem Darker, but that was not what Malfoy had done. When Harry thought about it, the entire procedure hadn't even involved any magic except the Sticking Charm, which he was sure was incidental.
Not that Harry actually knew anything about Dark rituals, or even that much about magic in general. For all he knew, what Malfoy had just done had some incredibly dark, secret significance in the magical world.
Malfoy had evidently had enough of moping, and was getting up. He closed the door, then opened it again and stepped inside disappearing behind the coats. Harry heard a series of thumps from inside. It sounded like Malfoy was banging on the back of the closet. Then there was a series of muffled curses, and more thumping. Malfoy came storming out of the cabinet, once again charging straight at Harry. He tried frantically to dodge away, but Malfoy was moving much faster this time, and in his hurry, Harry tripped on an overturned chair (which, for some reason, was wearing rubber galoshes on each of its legs) and landed headlong on the floor. The invisibility cloak floated around him and, naturally, settled so that only his head was covered.
Malfoy let out an understandably startled cry at the noise and the sight of Harry's apparently-headless body on the floor. Harry took advantage of this temporary discomfiture to jump to his feet and pull out his wand, training it on his rather alarmed yearmate.
"I've caught you!" he shouted, despite the fact that the situation was technically quite the reverse. "I knew it! I knew you were up to something! What is it, Malfoy? What are you doing, and how is it helping Voldemort?"
Malfoy was speechless for a moment, utterly flabbergasted. "V-Volde… mort?" he stammered. His face twisted in anger and confusion.
"I know, Malfoy! I know you're a Death Eater! Now, what has Voldemort got you doing?"
"Voldemort?" said Malfoy again, recovering. This time, it was scorn that warped his face into the familiar sneer. "What do I want with Voldemort?"
"You're working for him!" accused Harry. "Whatever it is you're doing in here, it's for him!"
Malfoy's face was a study in expressions. Confusion again, sudden comprehension, and then…
Laughter. Real, genuine laughter. Harry didn't think he'd ever actually seen Malfoy laugh before, except in derision. Yet here he was, gasping for breath and holding his stomach in gales of hilarity.
Harry felt annoyance curdle in his chest. "Would you mind sharing what's so funny?" he demanded.
Malfoy had trouble calming himself enough to answer. "V-Voldemort?" he sputtered again between giggles. "Potter, you balmy idiot, I'm only trying to get to Narnia!" And he collapsed on the floor in another fit of hysterics.
Harry stood in disturbed silence, watching laughter consume his enemy. Suddenly, his theory that Malfoy had lost his sanity seemed extremely credible.
"I'll go get Madam Pomfrey," he said to no one in particular - Malfoy wasn't listening - and got out of the Room of Requirement as quickly as he could. The sound of Malfoy's laughter chased him as he meandered his way out, acquiring a maniacal edge as it echoed off the vaulted ceiling above the mounds of other twisted, broken, and ruined objects.