III. CONFIDE
As soon as Draco came back to his manor, he was welcomed by his hopeful mother.
"How was it?" Narcissa raised his eyebrows when she saw Draco's confused face.
"Mother, was the address you gave me truly the address of THE Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived?"
Narcissa tilted her head slightly in confusion.
"Is… Potter really lives in that place? It's a small house. Not a manor," Draco asked in bewilderment.
"He does. I have the valid address from a credible source. Is something wrong?" Narcissa put her clasped hands before her.
"It's just… It's a small house. This is Harry Potter, the famous Boy Who Lived we are talking about. But... at first, I thought I visited the wrong house. But then I heard a voice that unmistakably belonged to Harry Potter. And… Mother, a Muggle man in that house called him a freak. What does that mean? Why he lives with a muggle?" Draco hesitated, but then continued, "I think…"
"What is it?" Narcissa stepped closer toward her only son.
"I don't know. Something is not right there."
"How do you mean, Draco?"
"I— Ah, nothing. I think I'm just tired and saw things." Draco decided to keep it to himself for now. "So I didn't manage to meet Potter tonight. I will try again tomorrow morning, Mother."
"Very well. It's late. We better call it a night. Good night, dear." Narcissa kissed Draco's cheek and dismissed herself to the master bedroom.
"Good night, Mother." Draco waited until his mother disappeared from his vision, and then processed to walk to his own bedroom in the west wing of the manor.
~o~
Morning came and Draco was ready to revisit Privet Drive number four but had to delay it because The Malfoys' solicitors were visiting him to give him a long discourse concerning the Malfoys' businesses. And when the meeting ended, it was already dinner time. Without a pause to take dinner first, Draco Apparated straight to Privet Drive. Of course, with the help of his Blood Ring that altered his magic so that the Ministry couldn't detect his Apparition. Draco was, after all, not of age yet to do legal Apparition. Oh how he loved his ancestors' magic.
Draco arrived at Privet Drive number 4. When he was ready to knock the door, he heard loud voices from inside the house. A thought came to his mind. He Disillusion himself (again, thanks to his Malfoy Blood Ring that prevented the Ministry to detect his underage magic) and walked inside the house.
It was like coming through a thick harsh jelly at first when Draco tried to enter the house. He guessed that the house was being warded to prevent any unwanted magical signature forcing its way into Potter's shelter. What with the Dark Lord and all. But with quite effort and concentration, Draco managed to penetrate the barrier with his magic force. What a weak ward, Draco thought, that he managed to go through without resistance.
Wasting no time, Draco followed the voice he heard which was now turned into angry yell. It came from a room Draco guessed as the kitchen. When Draco came to the kitchen, he saw a scenery that almost made his heart dropped to the narrowest pit on Earth, his breath hitched.
Harry Potter was picking shreds of what looked like pieces of broken cheap plates on the floor with his shaking hands while a fat muggle male alternatively kicking and yelling at him.
"—sless! The world would be a better place without you! Nobody wants you, you hear me boy! I bet your own cursed kind also doesn't want you, sending you back here every year. Hah! No food again until Sunday! That will teach you to do your job more carefully! Now go back to your place! Now! I don't want to see you! To the cupboard!" The man kicked Potter on his rib.
Potter staggered along the way toward a… Cupboard under the stairs? What was he do—
Oh.
With another shock came, Draco witnessed the tiny cupboard door being opened. Inside, a dim yellowish bulb illuminating the floor covered with mat and worn out quilt piled on it. It was Potter's room, or it seemed like to be.
"Vernon," A woman—another muggle? She must be the fat man's wife— spoke to the man lazily, "He hasn't eaten anything since last Sunday. He'll make it as an excuse to do the chores more lazily."
Sunday. Today was Thursday. Potter hadn't eaten for five days. And it would be eight days next Sunday.
Draco swallowed with difficulty. He felt like he was being hit hard on the face. His chest pain and he felt like he wanted to cry, but he didn't know why his chest pain and he wanted to cry. Probably panic due to the fact that he would lose the prospect of having a secure shelter if Potter died of starvation. But wasn't that what he had always wanted; Potter dead…?
Confused, as if being chased by devil, Draco ran frantically out of the house. He felt the ward surrounding the house was burning his skin as he passed the door. He kept running to the Apparition point. But when he arrived at the point, he was completely perplexed, unsure of what to do next. He couldn't think.
And perhaps he indeed did not think at all and was completely out of his mind as he found his feet brought him back to the house number 4 and ambushed the residence, rushing straight to the cupboard under the stairs, baffled for a second at the multiple keys installed on the door, casted Alohomora to them, and grabbed a shocked Harry Potter's wrist and pulled him out of the cupboard.
With quick thought, as Draco saw Potter flinched—ankle fracture, broken ribs, apparently—Draco casted the Levicorpus charm to Potter's body then picked up the lithe teen with his left arm, Draco dashed out of the house and ran toward the Apparition point.
~o~
Narcissa was regular-checking the wards on the entrance wooden double door of the manor leisurely when she heard a soft poof behind her.
"Draco! That was fast—" Narcissa was silenced abruptly at the sight presented in the center of the entrance hall.
"Draco?!" Narcissa raised her wand instinctively at Draco's direction.
"Mother," Draco was standing in front of her mother, looked dreadful, with his left arm encircling the body of a shocked and writhing Harry Potter.
"What..." Narcissa watched as the Boy Who Lived writhed and then fainted.