Chapter 14 – Searching for Secrets

The wind flung tiny ice crystals around with wild abandon, mixing snow whipped off the ground with flakes still falling heavily from the sky. Draco stood at a window on the fourth floor of Hogwarts Castle looking down at the distant white surface of the lake which was obscured by the swirling gusts, but he hardly noticed the scenery just as he hardly noticed the cold emanating from the thin glass window that he leaned against. His mind was elsewhere, mulling over the recent events.

He'd been so looking forward to going home, but it hadn't been what he wanted or needed. In his mind he'd half-expected to come back to a place where everyone sat together, talking, listening to stories about their son's adventures at school, playing games. But his family wasn't like that. The Malfoys didn't interact much with each other at all. Instead, they simply seemed to co-exist.

His gloomy mood was interrupted as he remembered the trip back from his uncle's house and a self-deprecating chuckle rose in his throat. He'd left in a hurry without asking directions, and with only the feeble light from his wand. Within minutes he was hopelessly lost, surrounded by a blanket of thick fog and darkness, and in utter panic about how his father would react to finding out about Draco sneaking off to visit an uncle he wasn't supposed to have.

He'd raced blindly for a few minutes. Believing he was flying high above the trees, he was quite surprised when he'd found himself slamming into a snow bank. Lying there, getting steadily more chilled as the snow melted into his robes, he almost started crying. Realizing that he had no other choice, Draco pulled out Dobby's lime-green note and was happy to see that the arrow was still there. Resigned to following it back to Uncle Aklion's house, Draco was surprised when the arrow instead led him back to the Malfoy Estate. Somehow it had known that his business was done.

During his last few days at home Draco had been paranoid that his father would somehow guess that he'd been to visit Uncle Aklion, but if Lucius did, he said nothing. Draco had tried hard not to give him the opportunity either, staying as far away from his father as possible. In other families this might have been suspicious but Lucius Malfoy didn't even notice.

It wasn't until it was time to go that father and son had another real conversation. Lucius, attired in a suit the colour of fireplace ash, stood at the entrance to King's Cross Station. The incessant murmur of Muggles, all of whom seemed to be in a desperate hurry, gave them a modicum of privacy.

"Aren't you coming in with me?" Draco asked when it became obvious Lucius wasn't.

"You are a little child no longer, and we both know that a man doesn't need to be walked right to his platform."

The words confused Draco. He wasn't certain that his father was not being sarcastic, though there was nothing in his tone or manner that indicated it. Without thinking, Draco surprised himself by blurting out, "You don't think I'm grown up. You didn't even let me use a broom until I was eleven, but you let Ember use it now and she's only eight. Do you trust her more?" In his mind he was thinking, 'Do you like her better than me?'

"Well, I see now that there is still plenty of child in you."

Draco flushed as his father continued. "What does it matter if your sister plays at flying and wastes her time with toys? I expect little from her anyway. Draco, you are my son – my only child. The reason I treat you differently is that I hold you to higher standards. At times that may make it appear that I am unkind, but I only act that way because I know that you are capable of achieving great things, and it is my duty to push you in the proper direction."

Their eyes met. Draco was about to apologize but Lucius cut him off. "I know what you're really asking."

"…you do?"

"You're asking if I love you."

"No I wasn't." Draco was lying but Lucius seemed to see through it.

"The answer is, no, I don't love you, Draco. Love is just a coarse simpering platitude usually bought with baubles. No, for you I feel something much greater. I feel respect for you. Oh, I will admit that I have had my doubts about you in the past, but you impressed me at the Christmas rally. You have earned my respect and I trust you will continue to do so."

Torn between disappointment and pride, Draco had no idea how to respond. He stammered, "I… er, thank you… I won't disappoint you, Father." And Draco meant it. His father's declaration of respect had ignited a fierce desire for more of the same.

As Draco stood at the window at Hogwarts remembering, he was struck by the fact that it had only been a couple of days since he'd said goodbye to his father. The abrupt switch back to life at Hogwarts made everything at home seem so far away, like something from the long distant past, especially because things hadn't changed much at Hogwarts. The first Transfiguration class had been painful as Professor McGonagall seemed to be under the impression that they should have gone ahead and mastered several more chapters' worth of material over the holidays, which none of them had. Greg was still first to bed and last one up. Even a rude letter from Dobby containing what appeared to be several spoonfuls of rancid butter came on the first day, mailed even before Draco had left to ensure that it would be waiting for him when he arrived.

Noticing a couple of students walking rapidly through the snow towards the greenhouses reminded Draco that he had better get moving too as his Charms class was about to start. He was tired and not looking forward to it, but he pushed himself away from the window anyway and followed a corridor lined with paintings of picnics and sunny summer days. The sound of howling winter winds faded away and Draco could hear the chirp of crickets coming from one of the paintings. He'd never used this hallway before but it did the trick and within minutes he was outside Professor Flitwick's classroom where Crabbe and Greg were already waiting.

"Ahoy, mate," Crabbe said cheerfully.

"Ahoy, mate," Greg parroted.

Darren Macintyre rounded the bend, walking with a seventh-year girl.

"Oh look, all the wee Dobbins are back," he announced.

"What's a 'Dobbins'?" asked the girl, whose name was either Lavina or Darina.

"You know, those little ankle-biter first years that are always skittering about. But look, these ones," Darren swept his arm out to indicate Draco, Crabbe and Greg as he walked past, "are even standing on their hind legs, just like real people. That's so cute."

"Come in, come in, boys," Professor Flitwick called from the classroom. "Everyone else is settled in already." They could see him sitting on his tall stool which still just allowed him to peek over his desk.

Today's lesson involved what turned out to be a relatively simple Growth Charm. Professor Flitwick passed out some Droobles Gumballs to practice on and within minutes almost everybody had made theirs grow, Dianna managing to double hers in size. Unfortunately, the spell didn't make the gumballs any bulkier – they just stretched them out – which several Slytherins were disappointed to discover when they ate them.

Either because the lesson had taken such a short time to master or because the supply of gumballs was dwindling, Professor Flitwick didn't stop them when they started trying out the charm on some other personal objects. At least he didn't do anything until Crabbe tried out the spell on Theodore Nott's pants, causing them to almost fall off. Theodore, holding his pants up with one hand and blaming Daphne Greengrass, who was laughing loudly at him, cast the same charm on Daphne's belt. Unfortunately it backfired and instead of growing, Daphne's belt began to constrict in steady jerks around her waist. Each time the belt tightened she let out a higher pitched shriek. Theodore looked honestly concerned but had no idea how to stop the belt. With everyone yelling at him, and some of the girls casting spells trying to shrink Theodore's head, Professor Flitwick finally took control of the situation. With a couple of waves of his wand everyone was back in their chairs, their clothing all back in place and the proper size.

For the rest of the class time the Slytherins were allowed to try out whatever spells they wanted from the Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1), but only after they'd all promised not to try anything on each other. The girls spent the time trying to make flowers grow out of the classroom tables but only managed to get a few blades of grass to pop up.

Blaise and Theodore showed off a spell that made the few remaining gumballs bounce three times and then explode. Professor Flitwick didn't look overly happy about this but he didn't stop them.

As the last gumballs were destroyed one by one, Greg, Crabbe and Draco settled on trying out a spell with the intriguing title of Gecko Grip. Pulling off their shoes and socks, the three boys were soon taking turns tapping their hands and feet while intoning "Climbis Hawa." They would then drop their wands and attempt to scuttle up the wall of the classroom. It wasn't an easy spell, which explained why it was right at the back of the book. For a time they either got nowhere at all or only managed to get a few feet up the wall before they would skid back to the ground.

This lack of progress was disappointing at first, but they eventually realized that getting better wasn't necessarily a good thing. When they managed to make the spell last longer, it just gave them time to get farther up the wall before falling. But despite all the bumps and bruises collected in class, they were back practicing the spell that same evening in the common room. After about the hundredth time of calling out "Climbis Hawa," and scrambling up the wall, something that was clearly starting to get on the nerves of other students trying to study, Draco finally managed to climb all the way up. He paused triumphantly on the ceiling, and then quickly turned and headed back down, face first, expecting to drop at any moment. Predictably, the spell wore off almost immediately, and he lost his grip and plunged down. He closed his eyes and braced for impact, regretting his decision to face downwards. He only managed to avoid getting seriously hurt by landing on Greg instead.

As January went along, the amount of homework they were expected to do definitely increased compared to before Christmas. Even Greg could be caught doing some from time to time.

When he wasn't in class, busy doing homework, or going to frigid Quidditch practices, Draco often found himself thinking again about the things his father had said to him over the break, especially their conversation at King's Cross Station.

Occasionally, remembering some of his father's harsher words, Draco found himself bitter and full of self-pity. But if he ever caught himself brooding, Draco would give himself a mental reprimand. His father might be strict, but that was only because he had high standards and expected greatness of his now mature son. Draco hoped that he would be strong enough and wise enough to treat his own son, should he ever have one, the same way. And besides, any little hurts could be easily pushed aside by the pride that Draco felt when he remembered his father saying "I respect you." That was something new; until this Christmas his father had never seemed proud of him. Thinking about it gave him a glowing feeling inside as he repeated to himself, "My father respects me. My father is proud of me."

It was during one of these times when Draco was thinking about Christmas, lying on his bed, and staring into the dark, that a bold idea popped into his mind.

His father had told him about the marks that those closest to the Dark Lord had. Some people had been feeling tingles in those marks, especially as they came near to Hogwarts. It must mean something. Maybe somebody had found a powerful object that had belonged to the Dark Lord – his wand perhaps. Or maybe… maybe even the Dark Lord himself had returned. That idea didn't seem impossible. Draco had heard the stories. No one had actually seen him die. No body had ever been found.

Whatever was going on, Professor Snape must know something. He had one of the marks and he lived right here at Hogwarts. He claimed to know nothing, to have felt nothing, but what if he was lying? And, if he was, why was he lying?

Draco sat upright, sweating slightly with excitement. He would find out what was going on. He would somehow find out what Professor Snape really knew. There could be no better way to prove his loyalty to his father. He would make Lucius proud. He would earn his respect.

At first Draco didn't know exactly what he was going to do. All he could think of was to keep himself close to Professor Snape and eavesdrop on any conversations the Professor might have. He even took to prowling the corridor near Professor Snape's office. However, this proved to be useless. The Potions Master didn't seem to have any close friends or confidants at Hogwarts so all Draco overheard was the occasional dull conversation about schedules or classroom supplies. Even worse, Draco seemed to be bumping into Potter and Weasley more and more often. It was almost like they were trying to shadow Professor Snape as well, though Draco had no idea why they'd want to do that.

By the end of the month he realized that his plan, what little plan there was, obviously wasn't working. Then one evening, while Draco was sitting in the common room struggling to appear interested in a long story about a puppy Tracey Davis once had and how she loved to put different coloured ribbons in its tail, a new idea popped into his head. If Professor Snape was keeping anything secret it was bound to be in his office.

In less than three heartbeats, Draco knew exactly what he had to do and how. He needed to sneak into Professor Snape's office and search it. Of course the office would never just be left open and unguarded, but there was still a way to get in. He could use the magical hole his mother had given him.

Draco hadn't touched the hole since September. He hadn't been able to think of anything particularly interesting or useful to do with it and so he had just left it wadded up in a bundle collecting dust (or perhaps magically transporting dust) under the bed.

Draco tried to use whatever free time he had over the next few days to practice with the hole, but he had great difficulty finding opportunities to be alone. Crabbe and Greg followed him everywhere and he couldn't think of a reason to ditch them. He considered just telling them what he was up to, but part of him wanted to keep this for himself. If there was any glory in it, he wanted to get it all. Besides, he didn't want to explain why he still hadn't told them about the magical hole. If Draco ever did slip away from Greg and Crabbe, Pansy Parkinson had a knack of suddenly showing up.

So it wasn't until an evening almost a week later that Draco finally found himself free. Greg was down in the Cave, Crabbe had fallen asleep by the fire and there was no sign of Pansy anywhere. Draco patted his robe to make sure the hole was in his pocket and slipped out of the common room in search of a place where he could finally be alone and practice.

Five minutes later, rounding a corner on a set of wooden stairs, Draco almost screamed in frustration as he saw Theodore and Blaise pelting down the stairwell towards him, followed by most of the first-year Slytherin girls.

"Got it back," yelled Theodore as he raced past, waving Pansy's red button.

Breathing a sigh of relief when the entire crowd ignored him and thundered off into the distance, Draco made his way steadily higher in the castle.

He finally settled on a room just off of the library. It was one he'd studied in before and he knew that almost no one else came in here. For some reason it was thickly cluttered with cobwebs that no amount of cleaning or magic ever seemed to be able to get rid of.

The first thing Draco found out was that the hole couldn't be used to go sideways. He managed to stick the hole to the inside of the room's door but it wouldn't let him step through it. It seemed that the hole only let you fall through and down.

Resigned to the fact that he couldn't use the hole to simply step through the door to Professor Snape's office and that he would, instead, have to drop in through the ceiling, Draco spent the next couple of hours practicing on a beaten looking but still sturdy oak table.

What he discovered was not particularly reassuring. He repeated the experiment that he'd tried with the pillow months ago, seeing if he could poke his finger into the hole and pull it out again. He couldn't. Once you were in the hole there was only one way to go. What was worse, the more of his body he put into the hole, the more likely it was that it would suddenly – and roughly – pull him completely through and spit him out the other side. Once his hand was in the rest of him quickly followed.

This was particularly disappointing because Draco hoped that he would be able to at least take a peek through the hole into Professor Snape's office, to make sure the coast was clear, before jumping down through the ceiling. But, after sticking his head through the hole three times, and each time being rudely yanked headfirst through the oak table, and then trying three more times to just poke one eye through and having the same thing happen, Draco gave up on that idea.

Going through feet first certainly was less painful but was still disappointing. It would have been nice to be able to climb through the hole and carefully lower himself to the ground below, but Draco had the same problem with his feet as he had with his hands and head. As soon as one foot was in, he got abruptly yanked through.

Having concluded that the only way to really use the hole was to simply jump in, feet first, Draco tried one more experiment. As he hopped through the hole he tried reaching back and grabbing the hole itself, to see if he could drag it along with him. If he couldn't, then when he dropped into Professor Snape's office, the hole would just sit there in the corridor. It would just be a matter of time before some student or teacher would discover it, probably by accidentally crashing down through it too. But, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't bring the hole with him. As impressed as he had been with the hole when he'd first gotten it, after two hours of falling, crashing, and jumping through a table he was feeling like it could have been designed a lot better. In a grumpy mood and silently hoping his mother hadn't paid too much for the stupid thing, he practiced hopping through the table one last time. Landing in a perfect crouch on the floor he was startled when the door to the room suddenly opened.

Draco snatched his wand out of his belt and stood up, forgetting that he was still under the table and smashing his head on the bottom of it.

"Is that you Malfoy? What are you up to then?" It was Neville Longbottom, the clumsy Gryffindor who had fallen off his broom in the first Flying class.

Draco clutched his aching head and moaned.

"Come on, what are you playing at?" Neville started walking towards Draco. In a few more steps he was bound to see the hole, still sitting on the table in plain sight.

Forcing himself to sit up, Draco pointed his wand and grunted "Locomotor Mortis" through clenched teeth. Neville's legs froze together and he toppled to the ground with an unpleasant crunching sound.

Though the brochures for Hogwarts never advertised it, many students actually learned more spells from their fellow students than from their teachers. The Leg-Locker Curse was a simple one that had grown quite popular in the Slytherin common room in the last few weeks. In fact it had become quite dangerous to appear to be in a hurry as someone was bound to cast in on you for a laugh.

Draco, still in a foul mood, carefully packed away the hole, gave the table a good hard kick, and then thanked Neville for letting him get in some spell practice.

The Gryffindor was flopping around on the floor like a fish out of water. He stammered at Draco, "I… I'll… When I get… I'm going to… "

But Draco had left the room before Neville finally got around to saying what he was going to do.