Chapter Twenty-Eight – Malfoy Manor
After the attack on Willowby, there was a great rush of students eager to leave the school for the holidays. In fact, it was doubtful many of them would return once their parents were notified of the attacks made on two students.
Millie and Draco were among the minority who remained. Harry and Blaise urged Millie to accept Blaise's invitation. While it would be beneficial to have someone keep an eye on Draco, it was more important that their friend remain safe. But Millie reminded them that she was a pure blood, not to mention a member of Slytherin House. She felt perfectly safe staying behind to spy on Draco. Harry was less sanguine. Colin Creevy was a Slytherin as well, although muggle-born, and he had been the first attacked. But no amount of reasoning worked on Millie, and in the end, Harry and Blaise boarded the Hogwarts express without her.
In spite of Harry's concern, he was nevertheless thrilled to see Mrs. Zabini again. She met the boys at the station, driven by Torsh as usual, and embraced Harry with the same warmth she used to greet her own son. For a moment, Harry forgot the troubles plaguing Hogwarts as he piled into the car's spacious backseat, fighting for Mrs. Zabini's attention as he and Blaise proceeded to talk at once, both filled with stories from their first term.
"I'm glad to hear you're both enjoying yourselves," Mrs. Zabini said, turning hear head toward them from her place in the front seat, "It's good to know you're excited about something in the midst of such terrible news."
Harry and Blaise exchanged a glance. Obviously, Mrs. Zabini had heard about the attacks at the school. Harry opened his mouth, hardly knowing what he was planning to say, but Blaise spoke first.
"Mum, it's not as bad as you think."
"I'm not going to punish you, Blaise, so don't look so frightened," Mrs. Zabini said with a laugh, "You'll have time to improve next term."
Harry and Blaise exchanged another glance, this time baffled by her reaction.
"The results of your exams arrived this morning," Mrs. Zabini added, perhaps noting their confused silence, "Your potions grade is slipping."
"Potions?" Blaise said with a slight gasp as he realized his mother was speaking of something completely different than their expectations. He quickly added, "But Mum, you know Professor Snape is a tyrant. He's probably lowered my grade just because he knows I'm friends with Harry."
"I don't want to hear any excuses, Blaise. Your father was excellent with potions. What would he think if his son failed the class?"
"I hardly think I'm failing, Mum." Blaise said with a pout, "And I know for a fact that I've got the best score in Charms."
"That goes without saying," Mrs. Zabini said with pride.
She asked a few more questions about Harry's grades. His results had been sent to the Zabini residence as well, though she had the politeness not to open them. Then she lapsed into a comfortable silence for the rest of the drive, making occasional comments to Torsh about the menu she wanted for their holiday dinner.
Harry and Blaise didn't dare say what was on their minds, but a look from Blaise was enough to confirm Harry's own thoughts. Mrs. Zabini did not know about the attacks at Hogwarts or the Chamber of Secrets. If she had been informed, surely she would more pressing concerns than a few poor grades.
They had assumed everyone's parents would be informed after not one, but two students were petrified. It was strange to Harry that Mrs. Zabini would remain in the dark, and he even entertained the notion that Dumbledore was trying to cover everything up. Perhaps he was worried that he would be forced to close the school. But this explanation didn't hold up, as surely the students returning home for the holidays would tell their parents everything.
Other students, but not Harry or Blaise. Harry had spent enough time around Mrs. Zabini to know how protective she was of her son. If she considered Hogwarts dangerous, there was no way she would let him return for second term. They had assumed the school already told her of the attacks, and were prepared to soothe her worries as best as they could. But if Hogwarts neglected to inform her of the Chamber of Secrets, then neither Harry nor Blaise would be the one to break the news.
It was easy enough to talk of other things. Soon after arriving at the house in Ascending Downs, Blaise asked his mother if she planned another party like last year.
Mrs. Zabini offered him an apologetic smile. "Ah, about that. I have some news for you that I'm afraid you won't like."
Harry braced himself, fearful that Mrs. Zabini knew something of the Chamber of Secrets after all.
Instead, Mrs. Zabini simply stated, "We won't be throwing a party this year. The Malfoys have invited us for dinner at their manor instead."
Blaise immediately opened his mouth to protest, and Harry was on the verge of an exclamation, but Mrs. Zabini held up a hand to silence them.
"I don't want to hear it. The invitation is already accepted. You're both going, you will be on your best behavior, and we're all going to have a wonderful time."
Harry and Blaise snapped their mouths shut, knowing it was pointless to argue, though privately Harry felt that it would have been better to remain at Hogwarts, after all. The thought immediately reminded him that Draco was still at school, and although he would be forced to spend the evening with his parents, at least he could escape Draco's boasting the whole night.
Harry and Blaise raced each other down the stairs Christmas morning. Harry could already smell the delicious aroma of the breakfast Torsh had prepared for the occasion. The fragrance tempted Harry's feet toward the kitchen, though he remembered to stop by the front hall to wish the portraits of Blaise's step-fathers a Happy Christmas.
"Happy Christmas!" chorused the portraits in response to Harry's greeting. Somehow they had all managed to dress in festive hats and garlands of holly leaves for the occasion. Harry wondered if some wizard artist did commissions for painted finery, and if so, if the business offered much of a living.
He filed the question away to be asked later. The call of breakfast was too strong to resist any longer, and he and Blaise were soon enjoying a hearty meal while waiting for Mrs. Zabini to join them.
She wandered down a predictable half hour after the boys had been awake, looking tired but still as glamorous as ever. Harry watched Blaise, and Blaise watched his mother. He said nothing until she had pulled down a bottle from among her many potions. Pouring a bit of the solution inside in her morning coffee, she lifted the concoction to her lips, drank it down, and gave a slight shudder. Blaise appeared to be waiting for this slight sign.
"Presents?" he asked by way of greeting.
"Presents," Mrs. Zabini confirmed with a smile as she poured another cup of coffee.
Harry and Blaise bolted from their chairs and dashed to the drawing room. Mrs. Zabini did not trail far behind. She seemed to have a burst of energy unconnected to the coffee in her hands.
"What is that potion she takes?" Harry whispered to Blaise, hoping he wasn't being impolite.
"Pepperup potion," Blaise murmured back, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I tried some once without asking. Didn't sleep for three days. Now I'm not allowed near the potion cabinet."
Harry had to stifle his laughter, not wanting Mrs. Zabini to become suspicious of his curiosity. Instead, he had time to gasp at the number of presents under the tree this year.
Harry was still unaccustomed to presents. Blaise always had several from his mother and distant relations, but Harry had learned after years with the Dursleys to expect little, if anything at all. Last year had been a pleasant surprise when he found a racing broom from Mrs. Zabini, as well as gifts from Hagrid and Millie under the tree. Those humble gifts had felt extravagant to a boy like him. But this year there appeared to be nearly twice as many gifts as before, and Harry realized rather breathlessly that he had just as many presents as Blaise, who kept passing box after box to him, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"Here's one from the muggles, Harry," Blaise said, carelessly tossing Harry a small, rather shabby package.
"Let me see that," Mrs. Zabini said sharply, thinking at the last minute to soften her voice and add, "Please."
Harry, surprised that they would send him anything after what happened last summer, handed the package to Mrs. Zabini. He didn't much care what was inside. Knowing the Dursleys, it was probably an old tea cozy, or perhaps a single sock. Mrs. Zabini did not bother opening the gift. She merely read the attached note with a look of disgust, and promptly threw both it and the parcel into the fire.
"Well, at least you won't have to deal with them anymore, Harry. Not after I'm through."
Harry was mystified at her meaning, but he hadn't time to ask. Blaise had just opened his final gift, and he asked in a tone of dread, "Dress robes?"
"For dinner tonight." Mrs. Zabini explained, "I bought Harry a set as well. I hope they fit."
"But mum, dress robes?"
"It's the Malfoys, dear," Mrs. Zabini said with a wave of her hand, as if this was explanation enough.
Blaise rolled his eyes and Harry asked, "Have you been there before?"
"Once," Blaise said, darting a glance toward his mother which told Harry they had to watch what they said, "It's pretty gloomy if you ask me."
Blaise wasn't wrong about Malfoy Manor. It was gloomy.
Harry supposed it was an impressive edifice, in its own way. With its sweeping grounds and seemingly endless rooms, all sporting tall, clear windows, it screamed Old Money. Perhaps if it housed a larger family, more like the Weasleys, its tall ceilings would have echoed with many cheerful voices, and the fire would seem to cast a warmer glow. But for a family of three, with the only son being away at school, it seemed too large and too imposing to ever be comfortable.
As Harry was escorted through the door into the cold, stark entryway, Harry was pleased to learn that theirs would not be a small party. Mrs. Malfoy greeted them at the door and quickly led them to a dining room where many of the guests were already gathered.
It wasn't merely a disinclination to be social that led Harry to rejoice at the number of guests. Harry and Blaise needed the Malfoys distracted in order to carry out their plan. They had talked as they dressed for dinner, and reasoned that with Draco at Hogwarts, this dinner party, however unwelcome from a social standpoint, was a prime opportunity to do some sleuthing. There was a good chance Harry could meet Dobby again, and if he could manage to get the elf away from his masters, perhaps Harry could wheedle some information about the Chamber from him.
And so Harry managed to smile through the introductions to Malfoy's friends with as much good humor as he could believably fake. He thought he would recognize more faces from Mrs. Zabini's party last year, but clearly the Malfoys and the Zabinis had few friends in common. The names and faces presented to Harry were all unfamiliar to him. Harry smiled at them all and shook their hands, even if most returned his polite greeting with unfriendly stares, and some with poorly concealed malice. Harry was used to stares from the students at school, and he had learned to face Snape's open dislike with poise, if not amusement. But he was not equal to these unnerving glances from people who were perfect strangers to him, and so it was with more than a anxiety that he sat down to dinner.
He felt rather embarrassed to be given a place of honor on Mr. Malfoy's right hand. It was meant as a compliment to him, he was sure, but he had much preferred to sit at the other end of the table, near where Mrs. Zabini was talking to Mrs. Malfoy with fond familiarity, Blaise on her other side. Instead, he was forced to listen to a man named Yaxley complain to Mr. Malfoy about the continued raids at the ministry.
"That Weasley is getting to be a damned nuisance," he was saying through mouthfuls of a Christmas ham. "Every week it's something new. I'd like to tell him the Aurors aren't his to boss around, but he has the full support of the Minister, so there's not much I can do."
"You're a smart man, Yaxley. In spite of appearances," Mr. Malfoy said with a slight smirk, "I'm sure you can think of a way to shut up Weasley."
"Shut him up? When it's all I can do to keep the damage he's doing at a minimum?" Yaxley gave short, harsh laugh, exposing the half chewed food in his mouth in the process. "You're welcome, by the way. Weasley would love an excuse to come snooping around here, but I've kept him in check for you."
"You and I both know that there's nothing here to interest Arthur Weasley," Mr. Malfoy said quickly. He directed a furtive glance at Harry that even he understood. Mr. Malfoy clearly didn't want him hearing too much.
Mr. Malfoy changed to subject to some new bill that was being discussed at the ministry. Harry was beginning to think that Mr. Malfoy did not like Yaxley very much, and wondered why, if this was true, the man should be invited to a dinner party. He cast his eyes around the rest of the table, and was disturbed to see as many eyes directed right back at him. It seemed all of the guests were watching him closely. Harry shifted his attention elsewhere, looking for something to distract him from the creepy wizards ranged round the table.
That's when he spotted the elf. Dobby was moving steadily around the table, serving the desert course as unobtrusively as possible. Harry tried to catch his eye, but the elf was nervously avoiding his gaze. He didn't even glance up at Harry as he set a treacle tart in front of him.
Harry didn't dare say anything to Dobby with Mr. Malfoy seated so close. He ceased his close scrutiny of the elf and pretended not to notice him, all the while keeping tabs on his through his peripheral vision. Harry saw him slip away, taking a left turn into the hall, just before Mr. Malfoy broke into his train of thought.
"There have been some interesting new developments at Hogwarts, I hear," he said, his face turned to Harry with an unreadable smile.
Harry snapped to full attention, turning to face Mr. Malfoy and attempting to mimic his bland expression. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to reply, so he waited for Mr. Malfoy to continue.
"Draco has been writing to me, you know," Mr. Malfoy said by way of continuing the conversation, "It is a shame what has been happening. A very cruel prank."
Harry sent a swift glance down the table to see if Mrs. Zabini had heard any of the conversation, but she was still deeply engrossed in some piece of gossip Mrs. Malfoy was sharing with her. Blaise, however, seemed to have caught something of what was said, and was doing his best to eavesdrop from his end of the table without being noticed.
Satisfied that Mrs. Zabini was distracted for the moment, Harry countered Mr. Malfoy by stating simply, "I don't think it is a prank."
"Oh?" Mr. Malfoy said, lifting one of his pale brows, "And what makes you so sure?"
"It's been opened before, hasn't it?" Harry said casually. He knew he didn't need to elaborate for Mr. Malfoy to understand.
"Has it? I was unaware," Mr. Malfoy said unconvincingly, "But prank or not, how very concerning that Dumbledore hasn't done anything to address the issue yet."
Harry said nothing. He had thought the same thing after the attack on Willowby and the Grey Lady. But as yet, Dumbledore had said almost nothing about the issue.
"I happen to be one of the governors for the school, and I must say we are very concerned. If things get much worse... Well, perhaps someone else would be better suited to take charge of Hogwarts."
"Maybe Dumbledore hasn't done anything yet because he's close to capturing whoever's behind the attacks," Harry said, feigning more confidence in the headmaster than he actually felt.
Mr. Malfoy's eyes gave a flash of annoyance. "And who do you think the culprit might be?"
Harry shrugged, "If I knew, I would have told Dumbledore already."
"Come now, you must have some idea. Draco is already fairly certain of who it is."
Harry could feel his hair standing on end. A quick glance at the faces around him revealed that many of the side conversations had ceased. He felt as if Mr. Malfoy was testing Harry, and Yaxley, along with a several others, were taking too much interest in their conversation. Even Mrs. Malfoy's voice faltered, and Harry could see Mrs. Zabini turning his way, a look of concern on her face.
"I..." said Harry, uncertain now of how to respond. He wasn't sure what reaction Mr. Malfoy was looking for, so he said the first thing that came to his mind, "I need to use the bathroom."
Thankfully, he caught Mr. Malfoy off guard.
"Oh, yes... Of course," he said, even as Harry was already taking his leave.
He didn't have any idea where the water closet was in the vast manor, but it didn't matter. He didn't actually have to go. All he wanted was get out of whatever trap Mr. Malfoy had been laying for him. Out in the hall, away from the staring faces of Malfoy's friends, he could breathe easier. Harry remembered Dobby, and decided now was as good a time as any to track him down.
He found Dobby in a small study on the first floor. The elf had been shining a large, ornate mirror when Harry came bursting in impatiently. Seeing Harry Potter in the reflection of the mirror, Dobby gave a startled yelp, and nearly tumbled off the mantle he had been using to reach his target.
"Careful!" Harry cried, nearly reaching for his wand before he remembered that he hadn't brought it. He and Blaise weren't allowed to do any magic outside of school, and so they had left them at home. Instead, Harry made a mad dash toward the fireplace, thinking to steady the elf or catch him if he fell, but to his great surprise, Dobby merely floated gracefully down from the shelf and met Harry on the ground, looking up at him with a mixture of terror and respect.
"Dobby thought Harry Potter would come find him. But Harry Potter should not have come here."
"I'm not supposed to be at Hogwarts, but I shouldn't be here. Which is it, Dobby? Where exactly can I go?" Harry said, not with irritation or malice, but with genuine amusement.
"Harry Potter has too many enemies here," Dobby said sadly, "It is not safe."
"Trust me, Dobby. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important. I need to ask you again about the Chamber of Secrets."
Dobby's lower lip quivered. He twisted his old, dirty pillowcase in his hands.
"Dobby can't! Or rather... Dobby does not know about the Chamber. Dobby only knows of a foul plot, and that Harry Potter could be killed if he remains at Hogwarts!"
"I'm not the only one who could be hurt!" Harry argued. Dobby flinched, and Harry realized he was raising his voice. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Harry tried another tactic.
"It's fine if you can't tell me about the Chamber, but you said something about a plot? I know it has something to do with the Malfoys, and I'm not asking you to confirm that. I know you couldn't even if you wanted to."
Harry paused, half-expecting some sort of protest from Dobby about the innocence of his masters. But Dobby was silent, and continued to stare at Harry with his large, green eyes. He seemed to be begging for Harry to understand.
"Does it have something to do with the raids the ministry has been doing? Can you tell me that much?" Harry asked, thinking back to the conversation he had heard at dinner.
Slowly, very slowly, Dobby nodded his head, his bat-like ears drooping slightly.
"The ministry is searching homes for signs of dark magic," Dobby said deliberately, as if choosing his words very carefully. "My master... my master has many items in his possession that he would rather the ministry not see."
"So he tried to get rid of one by sending it to Hogwarts," Harry said, the pieces finally falling together, "Whatever is happening now is connected to dark magic relic. Maybe it's the key to opening the Chamber! Dobby, do you know what it was?"
But Dobby was starting to look terrified again. His hand nervously reached for a fire poker near his side. Harry, terrified of the damage Dobby might do to himself if he had such a dangerous instrument, quickly snatched the fire poker away, holding it behind his back.
"Dobby doesn't know! Dobby doesn't know!" said the elf, trying to reach for the poker even as Harry held it out of reach, "Dobby only knows it was evil. Something that was once held by He Who Must Not Be Named!"
Harry almost blurted the name aloud, so surprised was he to hear Lord Voldemort mentioned. Dobby's concern for him suddenly made more sense. If Voldemort was somehow connected to the attacks at Hogwarts, then Harry was more of a target than the other students, having defeated the evil wizard before.
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, and the sentiment was genuine. He knew now that Dobby meant well, however unwanted his previous attempts at helping Harry had been.
Dobby was in paroxysms of delight by these simple thanks. He was so happy to have Harry's gratitude, he completely forgot he was supposed to be punishing himself for revealing his master's secrets. In fact, he was so pleased he tried to give Harry a hug, but Harry, still uncomfortable around the strange creature, gracefully declined.
Dobby's pleasure went unchecked, and he added with a shy expression,"There is more."
"What?" asked Harry, his curiosity peaked by the elf's sudden tonal shift.
"Dobby's master has a very great collection. He could not remove it all from his home. There were some that were too precious to sell."
"You mean he has more... relics?" Harry asked. He knew Dobby must be choosing his words carefully in order to tell Harry this, and Harry tried to do the same, not wanting to compromise the elf and cause him trouble.
Dobby nodded, this time vehemently. "He keeps them hidden, sir. Those things that are too valuable to part with entirely."
"And... where might he go if he needed to fetch one of them?" Harry asked.
Dobby's lips remained shut tight, but he finally left off staring at Harry, and directed his eyes to the floor under their feet.
Harry rejoined the party moments later, feeling triumphant. He was no closer to discovering the Heir, but he had plenty of information to guide him. He knew he should be scared, knowing that somehow this was all connected to Lord Voldemort, but instead he only felt excited, and he couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he found Blaise and the others gathered for a fireside chat in one of the grand parlors.
"What took so long?" Blaise hissed at Harry in parseltongue, earning startled glances from those guests nearest to him and Harry.
Harry's grin became a smirk as he saw their alarm, and he was grateful that he'd taken the time to give Blaise a few lessons.
"Tell you later." Harry hissed briefly. He wanted to tell Blaise all, but parseltongue was a difficult language to master if you did not possess the gift naturally. So far Blaise only knew a few broken phrases, and Harry wanted to be able to share what he had learned clearly.
"Shame about the elf," Harry said, knowing Blaise would understand him, and that anyone listening in would take no notice in their conversation about a house elf. "He really doesn't compare to Torsh, does he? Even their clothing is different."
"That's the mark of an elf's servitude," Blaise said, sounding only half interested but directing a look at Harry which told him he perfectly understood that Harry's meaning.
"But," he added in an undertone, "It's also shows you how some wizard families treat their inferiors."
"Couldn't they just leave if they are treated badly?" Harry asked.
Blaise shook his head, "It's the clothes. They can't leave unless their masters present them with clothes. That's why they all dress that way."
They stood together in silence while Harry mulled this over. Even without speaking, having Blaise by his side served as an effective barrier, keeping other curious guests at bay, and allowing Harry to have time with his own thoughts without being tested again by Mr. Malfoy or one of his friends. Finally, Harry formed a resolution.
"Do you think it would be possible for me to borrow Mephistopheles when we get back?" Harry asked, referring to the Zabini family owl. "I'd use Hedwig, but I think she would stand out too much."
"Sure," said Blaise, looking intrigued, "But what's the occasion?"
Harry smiled enigmatically. "I need to send a letter to the ministry."
