A/N: Hey everyone. Thanks to everyone who has read, commented, and favorited this story. Sorry for the late post again. I was away for a week, and now with school starting, I'm afraid I can't promise updates every two or three days. I'll try my best! Reviews, suggestions, complaints - feel free to comment. Enjoy the next chapter.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter series. Anything followed by an asterisk (*) has been taken from J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
Chapter 7: Something Discovered
It wasn't until a couple days later when a black barn owl swooped down to the Slytherin table and dropped off a rather faded envelope in front of Draco. It took Borgin long enough.
Out of nervous anticipation, Ron had dragged both Harry and Hermione to breakfast an hour early. Today was the big day.
"I dunno why the team's this popular all of a sudden," Harry said.*
"Oh, come on, Harry," said Hermione, suddenly impatient. "It's not Quidditch that's popular, it's you! You've never been more interesting, and frankly, you've never been more fanciable."*
Beside Harry, Ron seemed to have choked on his food, but rather than drinking pumpkin juice, Ron looked down and shoved more food into his mouth. He figured that if he was already sick to his stomach, a little more food couldn't hurt.
Meanwhile, a rush of owls suddenly burst into the dining hall. Hundreds of owls were hooting, which was then followed by the clattering and plates as the owls made their deliveries.
"Oi, Pigwidgeon you blundering bird. Take it easy," said Ron as his face grew red. Several girls at the Gryffindor table were staring at the little ball of feathers that had landed in the cereal. Unlike Hedwig, who had gracefully perched on Harry's arm, Pigwidgeon was still flitting around Ron's head.
"Oh good," said Hermione, delighted. "Now you can give that graffitied copy back."*
"Are you mad?" said Harry. Without even giving Hermione time to stop him, Harry muttered, "Diffindo." With a clean cut, the cover of the Prince's copy of the book came off, and within a few seconds, the cover of Harry's new copy came off. "Reparo." The Prince's copy was now disguised as Harry's new book. Beside him, Hermione looked absolutely horrified. While trying to find a way to fully convey her disapproval, she pursed her lips and stared intently at the new textbook. However, a third package arrived.
Before her, an owl dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet. Despite all of the ridiculous articles the Prophet had written, Hermione thought it was necessary to follow up on the Ministry. As she flipped through the pages ignoring all of the advertisements, she stopped a third of the way in.
"Anyone we know dead?" asked Ron in a determinedly casual voice.*
"No, but there have been more dementor attacks," said Hermione. "And an arrest."*
"Fantastic, who?" said Harry.* He looked hopeful.
"Stan Shunpike."
"What?" Harry said. That was utter nonsense. He snatched the paper from Hermione and began reading the article. All the while, Ron was picking at his picking at his food. The conversation had then turned for the worse. Parents were worried about the safety of their children and friends were being pulled from Hogwarts.
The talk was making Ron sick. "Alright already. 'Common. The captain can't be late."
Harry and Hermione looked at each another in mutual understanding. "Right," Harry said enthusiastically. "Weather is great too." However, Ron wasn't interested in the weather at all.
'Hermione is right,' Harry noted to himself. As the trio made their way down to the Quidditch pitch, they were joined in by many heading the same direction. It wasn't just Gryffindor students. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students too were walking to the stadium. Ron gulped. "So Captain. Do you know how many people are trying out?"
Harry hadn't thought of that. "Dunno," he responded. Ron was already turning a different shade. "Don't worry. You'll do fine." Hermione wanted to wish Ron luck but couldn't find the words to say it – ironic for she was the brightest witch of her age.
Up ahead, Parvati and Lavender were talking in hushed voices. Their conversation completely died when Parvati jabbed her friend as the trio drew near. Lavender immediately turned around and flashed a wide smile at Ron. Hermione watched with disgust as Ron smiled back. Then suddenly his walk became a strange strut. Though Harry was trying to hold back his laughter, Hermione wanted to trip Ron.
Even more unfortunate, it appeared that Parvati and Lavender were also heading toward the Quidditch pitch. Hermione scowled and purposefully walked ahead. Although Harry tried to comfort her, she remained cold and distant all the way down to the stadium.
Without a word of luck, Hermione walked up to the stands. She had no idea why she wanted to get away from Ron this badly.
"What's with her?" Ron asked Harry.
Harry perfectly well knew but chose not to tell Ron. "I don't know mate. Might be the workload. Just concentrate during tryouts."
As oblivious as ever, Ron smiled. "Right." He then waved at the stands at Hermione. Hermione, though still upset, put her silly anger aside. Ron hadn't done anything wrong, so she waved back.
However, Hermione was not the only one who had seen Ron wave. Parvati and Lavender had chosen seats to her left and two rows down. Immediately, Lavender turned around to face Hermione. "Hi," she said a bit too sweetly.
Hermione couldn't stand Lavender. The anger from before was rising again. "Oh hi. Looking forward to seeing the tryouts?"
Lavender giggled. "Not really. I'm only watching for one person, really."
Hermione groaned. "Oh. Who?"
"Oh you know. The ginger. Speaking of whom, what is your relationship with him?"
Hermione had never really questioned her relationship with Ron. Sure they were friends. They have been best friends for so long, but why now did she feel like they should be past that stage. 'No,' she thought to herself. 'I mean I'm also friends with Harry.' But somehow, she knew she didn't feel the same way toward both.
"Um well. I'm his girl," she paused, "friend."
"Girlfriend?" Lavender frowned.
Hermione face flushed. "Oh, not that way. We've been friends for such a long time now. We are just really close, almost like siblings really." Yes. Siblings was always the answer to a question
"Oh good. I didn't want to get in the way of anything," Lavender said with a bright smile. Why did Hermione have the urge to punch her all of a suddenly?
To distract herself, Hermione surveyed a field. Because she was so high up, everyone looked like black and brown dots. Harry seemed to have been grouping them, which she saw was a wise decision. In minutes, the first group was up in the air. But just as quickly as they were up, they were sprawled on the ground. 'Probably first years,' she thought. The second group wasn't much better. They hadn't even made it up into the air.
The following groups were hardly any better, so Hermione closed her eyes. It was a beautiful day. Allowing the pleasantness of the day wash over, she then began to regret becoming so harsh. If only she had wished Ron luck. And being the always logical person she is, Hermione thought about her strange reactions. At the start of the term, everything seemed different. She could now clearly visualized Ron's smile, the time Ron lead her away from Draco, how silly he looked when he stuffed his face with food when he should have been worried about Harry instead. She then recalled the anger whenever Lavender, the first girl that had ever taken interest in Ron, came near him. Amidst her thoughts, Hermione suddenly gasped. Was she a possessive friend? Or maybe Lavender wasn't the first person to fancy Ron.
"Oh, sorry," a girl said from behind her. When Hermione opened her eyes, the sun had changed positions and the stands had suddenly filled.
"It's fine," she replied. She must have dozed off quite a bit.
As Hermione watched the remainder of tryout, she was convinced that Quidditch was an absolutely boring and reckless sport. Madame Pomfrey would be quite busy. After what seemed like ages, Harry finally chose his three Chasers - Katie Bell, a second or third year, and Ginny Weasley – and two beaters, both of whom she couldn't recognized. Finally, it was time for Harry to determine the next Keeper.
Just as Hermione was about to wish Ron luck, a high pitch squeal beat her to it, "Good luck, Won Won!"
Hermione glared at the person before her. Who was she calling Won Won? It was an absurd name. "It's not like he could hear you."
"At least I'm giving him support," Lavender snapped.
The words stung somehow. "Yeah well at least Ron knows who I am."
"He knows me."
"Right. Just your name."
"Yeah well. It's not like you know him any better."
Hermione scoffed. "I've known him for six years."
Lavender recognized defeat and kept quiet.
With a smile on her face, Hermione turned her look back onto the field. So far so good. None of the first five applicants were able to save more than two goals. Unfortunately, the stands began to roar. Cormac McLaggen had successfully saved two, no three penalties. Hermione took a quick glance at Ron who was now an interesting shade of green. Without thinking, Hermione whipped out her wand. "Confundo." Without knowing what was happening, Cormac shot off in the completely opposite direction. Then after realizing she had cheated (her of all people), she quickly put away her wand and tried to only focus on the field.
"GOOD LUCK!"
Hermione scowled. She just wouldn't give up.
"One…Two," Hermione said under her breath. Before the crowd could cheer, Hermione ran down the steps. As she did, the stands boomed with applause. Gryffindor had a new team.
As Hermione finally made it to the ground, she heard a mix of angry cursing from the participants and the team ushering congratulations. When she reached the pitch, Ron was standing proudly with his teammates with the smile she knew so well. "Con-" Ron flashed her a grin. "grats," she finished quietly. She rushed up and gave Ron a hug.
"Feeling better now?" Ron asked.
"Loads. And you?"
Ron chuckled. "Never better. I mean did you see the last save? Didn't think I'd make that one."
Behind them, Harry watched briefly. He didn't care so much. It was only a matter of time. Him on the other hand. "Hey Ginny," he called out.
Ginny turned around, "Yeah?"
"Finally ready to play some real Quidditch?"
She grinned. "More than ever. Might become better than you even."
That's what Harry had always liked about her. "You wish."
Mr. Malfoy,
The twin cabinet is located within the Hogwarts grounds. Should this room exist, it is rumored the cabinet was last noted to be in a room where everything is hidden. The whereabouts of this classroom, again, should it exist is a complete mystery. I am afraid I cannot give any further directions until you have located it.
Borgin
Draco furiously crumped the utterly useless letter in his hand. 'What rubbish. I waited for a response like this.'
He slumped back into his bed. Where the bloody hell could he find something that no one has seen. In rage, he dug his head into his pillow and yelled. Why did it have to be him? Thoughts rushed through Draco's mind. Maybe there was a way…maybe he could find a way to convince the Dark Lord that the cabinet wasn't there. He let out another groan. His Occlumency was no match.
With a deep breath, Draco calmed himself. There was no point in complaining if he hadn't tried. So with little effort, he swung out of bed and carefully walked out of his dormitory. It would only be a hindrance if people knew what he was looking for.
Out of the dungeons, Draco contemplated where to start first. A room where everything is hidden. 'Of course,' he thought. 'The room just has to be where things are hidden. They are hidden for a reason.' Immediately, Draco eliminated all of the classrooms and offices. But what did that leave? 'Probably hundreds unknown rooms, cabinets, and random spaces.'
Draco spat. There was no possible way for him to know what was in every classroom or even the whereabouts of all of the rooms. This room must have been large to hold all of its contents, but where on earth could it have been.
Finally, Draco decided to search the dungeons and work his way up. A terrible start. After going into each classroom – locked or unlocked – all he found were doxies, rats, and a lot of dust cloaking the unused desks and chairs. No cabinet there. Draco mused that there could be a hidden passage like that of the dormitories. To their complete disturbance, Draco hastily looked behind all of the portraits and statues. Still nothing. Now covered in dust, he walked up to the first floor.
The business of the floor worked to Draco's advantage. Without being too noticeable, he continued his search by first looking for the obvious doors and then searching behind the portraits. Nothing.
Draco gathered the same results as he made his way up the staircase. By the time he had reached the sixth floor, he was becoming desperate. What if he couldn't find it? Draco cringed. No. He must. He had to. There was no other way. Inspired by fear, Draco resumed his search. Now he was more determined. But to his own despair, hours of hunting led him nowhere and back on the first floor. In one classroom, a cabinet looked promising. To his anger, a boggart lunged out at him as soon as the door was opened.
The room did not exist. Draco had searched every room and moveable portrait. He dug around for hidden passageways but there was simply nothing. He wanted to give up. He was a failure. Completely beaten, Draco sat on the staircase. He was afraid.
"Draco," a low, raspy voice called.
Trying not to shake at the figure before him or shudder at such his name, Draco responded, "Yes, my lord."
The two were in the gracious dining hall at Malfoy manner. However, what was once so grand was now littered with spider webs and engulfed in dust. The fireplace failed to light, and the table looked weary and aged. The aura of the room was nothing more than gloom and despair.
"Your father has been…a disappointment," said the cloaked figure. Each word was dragged out evenly.
Without moving his head, Draco looked in anywhere but forward. He shot a glance at the door. His mother was forced to wait in the hall. Hopefully she was alright. A deafening silence overwhelmed the room. Finally, Draco mustered up the courage to look up. The Dark Lord was pacing before him. His black cloak billowed with his every step. Even moving, not a sound was made.
"I have been thinking of how we can fix his problem," he continued. "Don't you agree something should be done?"
Draco gave himself no time to think. With an automatic answer, he stammered, "Y-yes, my lord." Every part of his body was growing numb. It was as if dementors were closing in on him. Any hope was crushed by fear and agony.
"Very good. You will make an excellent servant."
Draco cringed at the word. Never once was he the one to serve.
"I require your immediate assistance, Draco."
His body was shutting down. He knew this was the end. There was no such thing as a reward for helping the Dark Lord. The future entailed only two possible outcomes- living, which itself was its own reward, or death. Servants of the Dark Lord were merely pawns. Even Draco was wise enough to see it. He did not revere the monster before him. Draco craved for the Dark Lord's power and believed in his goals, but Draco knew he could never kill. There was no way for him to accomplish any task. This was simply revenge on the Malfoy household for his father's failure, and he had to pay the price.
When Draco looked up again, a pair of cold, grey eyes pierced him. "Ugh," Draco let out. Against his will, all of his thoughts flashed through his mind. His legs suddenly gave way and he collapsed on the floor. However, it was quickly over leaving Draco gasping for air.
"Pity," the Dark Lord said not with sympathy but malice. "And I thought you were different." He quickly drew his wand.
"N-no. No," Draco said weakly as he picked himself off the ground. It was too soon. "I'll do anything," he pleaded.
The Dark Lord looked unforgivingly at his victim. "Well, Draco. Any other of my Death Eaters would have considered it the utmost honor to be given a task from the Dark Lord, especially from the Dark Lord himself. What should I do to you to make you understand?"
Before he could respond, Draco lost all sensation of his body and even his mind. Whenever the Dark Lord moved his wand, he moved along with it. He was then thrown repeatedly against the wall. He couldn't stop himself.
The Dark Lord grinned. It was always fun to add a bit of magic into his negotiations. Finally bored, he stopped the spell, which caused Draco to fall to the ground.
"Do you think this is an honor? Or simply revenge?" Again, Draco was not given the opportunity to answer. "Crucio."
Draco was writhing on the floor in pain. His limbs were tearing away from his body, and he felt as if he was being stabbed repeatedly. All of his organs screamed for help. He was suddenly losing his breath. Everything turned white. So this was the end.
The Dark Lord stopped. On the ground, Draco was coughing up blood. His entire body burned and ached. The dusty air he breathed in only caused him to cough even more. He would never forget the metallic taste of his own blood.
"So, Draco. Which way will you have it? Help me in completing this one task…"
With as much energy as possible, Draco nodded his head. Pain seared through his neck.
With a demonic smile, the Dark Lord continued, "Very well. I am pleased. Sit." With a quick movement of his wand, Draco was lifted into the air and placed in the nearest chair.
"Now the conditions. You are, Draco, returning to Hogwarts next year I presume?"
"Yes, my Lord."
"Good good. I have always valued education. Things are about to change at Hogwarts. But first, I need access to it."
Draco was completely bewildered. Dumbledore was a fool but not stupid. How on earth could he help the Dark Lord enter?
"I see you are doubting this plan. I assure you, this will work lest you…fail. There is an object long lost – the Vanishing Cabinet. It was widely used when I was in full power. Do you know what it is?" Draco shook his head. "Vanishing Cabinets come in pairs, sisters you can say. When used, items and people can be transported back and forth undetected. Borgin has one, but its sister is lost somewhere in the school. I want you to find it for me."
Without looking up, Draco responded, "Yes, my lord. Is that it?"
"Not quite. Finding it is the easiest part. Most likely, the cabinet is damaged. You must repair it so that once my Death Eaters come through," he paused. "You don't have to worry about how I will enter the castle. You will kill Dumbledore for me."
Draco had no response. This was impossible, a death sentence even. Draco opened his mouth but suddenly close it.
"You shall speak of this to no one. Should you fail, I will show you the third spell to complete the set. And your mother…"
"No! I'll do it. It will be an honor," Draco exclaimed, fearing death above all. "…my lord."
"Your left arm, Draco." Words cannot describe the pain that scorched his flesh. "Good. You have a year. The clock is ticking."
Draco was trembling all over. Without any thought in mind, he ran into the bathroom and splashed his face with water. It was just a memory, something of the past. Clutching the sink until his knuckles turned white, he let out a shout, which echoed through the empty room. Cold sweat formed on his skin. He needed to find that cabinet.
"What's wrong?" a voice crooned.
Draco jumped. He couldn't see anyone. Suddenly a ghost glided beside him. "Get away. Who are you?"
"Right. No one has time for Moaning Myrtle. And to think I only came to offer help," Moaning Myrtle dramatically sighed. "Such a rude boy."
"Just leave me alone then."
"Hmph. You are nothing like Harry Potter – so warm and kind. Do you know him?"
"Hah that scarface. Know him…hate him," his voice was full of contempt.
Myrtle didn't allow him to continue. "You know, he visited me before with his friends years ago. I haven't seen him since. I hope he is okay."
"Okay?" Draco was furious. "The Chosen One. The potion master. He is more than okay. Great even. Has the help and comfort…"
"You know," Myrtle said as she came closer. "I can help you."
"You are dead."
Myrtle looked at the pained figure before her and let his comment pass. He reminded her of herself many years ago – alone. "But I can listen. I'll be here. All you need is call." Suddenly she was gone. Perhaps he was hallucinating, but it didn't stop him from getting the hell out of the bathroom and returning to his dormitory.
"Where were you, mate?" Crabbe asked as soon as he saw Malfoy enter the common room. "Didn't see you at dinner."
With a huge crash, Draco fell onto the leather couch. Not caring how loud he was or who was around him, he said, "Do any of you know a room where everything is hidden?"
Blaise looked up from his conversation. "What?"
"I don't know," he exclaimed completely frustrated. "A room where, I dunno. Not a classroom. A place with random items, a place where no one really knows or can explain."
"Filch's office?" Goyle suggested.
"You idiot, no."
"I might know a place," a voice said from the far side of the room.
Draco looked up and saw Graham Montague looking extremely intrigued. "Really now?" Draco said unconvinced.
Montague was serious. "It was my second year. I picked a fight with the Weasley twins up on the seventh floor. Well, I must have been tired that day. They took me into this room that suddenly appeared out of nowhere and shoved me headfirst into this old cabinet. Before I could reason it out, I was somewhere other than a closet. Weird really, even for magic. Still don't know how they did that."
Draco was listening intently to each word. This was it. "And you aren't lying?"
"No. I had to Apparate to get out. Still have the marks from the splinch."
Draco was convinced enough. "So where exactly was this room? You say it appeared out of nowhere?"
"Seventh floor. It was at the end of the furthest hall, the hall after the one with those birds. And yeah. I couldn't believe it myself. Who knew something like that existed?"
"Thanks," Draco said hurriedly and rushed to his room. It all made sense. Draco knew exactly where the room was. He was so stupid. He had even seen the room just last year. The room Montague got lost in, the very same room that the DA used last year…the room of requirements.
