Chapter Ninety-Two - The Chosen One
Kingsley's interrogation of Draco had done nothing to change Harry's mind regarding their room assignments. He remained adamant that Draco would not share with him. Sirius, a little irritated by his godson's stubborn refusal, decided that, at the very least, he could help the Weasleys clear a space for their new guest. The small bedroom was already cramped with three beds, but after some reorganizing and complicated spellwork, two sets of bunk beds were neatly arranged. This task completed, Sirius immediately set them all to their usual chore - cleaning out the rest of the unused rooms.
Though Sirius claimed that the work was helping him finally complete the renovations he had started a year ago, Harry knew better. The chores were merely a design to keep the young people busy while the adults carried out their secret meetings downstairs.
Since it had been officially decided that Draco was there to stay, he was promptly enlisted into the cleaning crew. All but the twins were underaged, and Harry was delighted to inform Draco that the use of wands to complete their projects was strictly forbidden. They would be limited to the use of a few cleaning potions that Sirius kept on hand. Harry could tell from the repulsed look on Draco's face that he had never engaged in manual labor in his life, and while he may have resented Draco's presence under his godfather's roof, watching him struggle with menial tasks brought Harry a sort of savage pleasure.
Curiously, it never crossed Harry's mind that Blaise had been just as inexperienced as Draco when he first picked up a broom for something other than flying. Like Draco, Blaise had grown up in a home with a house elf, who managed all the work on behalf of the families they served. If Harry had been less biased, he might have been forced to admit that Draco resigned himself to the work with far fewer protests than Blaise.
To improve Blaise's attitude to their daily chore, Harry and Millie had developed ways of turning the dull work into a sort of game. Spraying the doxies that nestled in the curtains of several unused rooms had become rather a favorite sport. They were joined on one particular occasion by Ginny Weasley, who was helping them keep score.
"It's four to six in favor of Harry," she called as Harry took aim and caught another doxy in the face with doxycide.
"He got two with that last shot!" Blaise complained, fruitlessly shaking his curtain in the hopes of dislodging more doxies from within its folds, "That should only count as one!"
Harry grinned as he bent to pick up the small, stunned figure and dumped it into a bucket with the others. "You didn't hear me complaining when you stumbled on that nest the other day. What was it, six doxies in one go?"
Blaise shuddered, "Don't remind me. I thought the one that flew at my face would go right up my nose!"
"You shouldn't let them get too close," Millie chastised him, "Remember what Remus said. Their bite is venomous."
"I wasn't trying to let it bite me!"
"Then you'd better pay attention," observed Ginny, pointing to the curtain that Blaise had continued to shake vigorously. An intrepid doxy, using all eight of its appendages, was slowly crawling toward Blaise's hand. With a yelp, Blaise dropped the fabric, just as Harry fired at the fairy-like creature and dropped it to the floor in a cloud of doxycide.
"Hey! That one was mine!" Blaise complained.
Before Harry could argue, their play was interrupted by a frightful shriek.
"Filth! Scum! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers! Begone from this place, half-breeds! Mutants! Putrid mudblood filth!"
Harry had learned to recognize the angry screams of Mrs. Black's portrait by now, and wasn't alarmed by them. Instead, he felt a vague curiosity to see who had woken her up this time. He dashed out the door, calling to Blaise that he put his money on Nymphadora Tonks, whose clumsiness had caused her to trip over the umbrella stand several times already.
His assumption that the umbrella stand was to blame had been correct, but instead of Tonks, it was only Draco sitting on the floor at the foot of the stairs. A wooden crate lay on its side next to him, and several questionable-looking artifacts were scattered all around.
"Blood traitors! Abominations! Stains of dishonor!"
Mrs. Black's screams had begun to disturb the other family portraits hanging along the passageway. Although some were inclined to agree with Mrs. Black's insults, Harry was pleased that more than a few were loudly calling for her to shut her mouth. Fred and George apparated on the spot and began doing their best to stun the other noisy portraits into silence. Harry, meanwhile, rushed to cover the screaming face of Sirius's mother. Unable to use his wand, he struggled for a few moments with the curtain, enduring her curses and insults until Sirius himself stepped in to help him.
His stunning spell hit the screaming face of Mrs. Black between the eyes, and with a flick of his wrist, the black curtains snapped shut once more. Harry, panting slightly from the exertion of fighting with the curtains on his own, turned his gaze toward Draco, who had remained motionless on the floor. He stared back at Harry, his eyes wide with shock.
Harry gestured at the closed curtains over his shoulder and said, "Sirius's mum. I'll bet she'd have liked you."
Before Draco could reply, Narcissa Malfoy drifted into the hall behind him, attracted by the noise.
"Aunt Walburga?" she said, catching only part of what had passed. To Sirius, she asked, "You kept her picture up?"
"Aunt?" Draco asked loudly, causing Sirius to shush him for fear of waking the portrait again.
"Sirius is my first cousin, Draco," Mrs. Malfoy informed her son calmly, "Making him your cousin as well, after a fashion."
Sirius directed a grim smile at Draco before replying to Mrs. Malfoy's question.
"She used a permanent sticking charm, I'm afraid. Nothing I can do about her."
"Except blast her off the wall, I suppose," Mrs. Malfoy suggested in the same detached tone, as if the memory of this dearly departed relative mattered very little to her.
"Don't think I haven't considered it."
Sirius joined Mrs. Malfoy and they strolled off together, talking in quiet voices about common family members, leaving a stunned Draco still seated in the hall, surrounded by the fallen items and toppled umbrella stand. He wasn't left alone for long. Ron had followed his brothers into the hall and quickly made his way past Harry. Offering a hand to Draco, he helped him climb to his feet.
"Don't worry about it," Ron said, guessing the reason for Draco's stunned expression, "Most of the pureblood families are related to each other, and the Blacks are one of the oldest families there are. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you and I are related somehow."
"That's right," Fred and George added. Their voices were chipper, though quiet, as if afraid of waking Mrs. Black once more. Standing on either side of Harry, they leaned their elbows against the banister, grinning down at Draco with mischievous expressions. "You're not alone, Draco. We all have relatives we're ashamed of. Percy, for example."
"Don't let mum hear you mention Percy," warned Ginny. She too had wandered into the hall, taking her position next to Blaise and Millie as they leaned their faces over the railing. "You know how she gets."
Draco was hardly comforted by their words. As he and Ron gathered the fallen objects and placed them back into the wooden crate, he complained, "When you said this was headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix, I thought we'd be doing more than dusting bookshelves and packing up old junk!"
That explained the box. Sirius had asked them to sort through some of the less dangerous items left in Grimmauld Place by previous generations. Those that were still in good condition could be dispensed with at Borgin and Burke, a disreputable dealer in Knockturn Alley. Draco set his collection down next to several others that had been placed near the front door, ready to be picked up and removed by Mundungus on one of his "missions."
Harry hated to agree with Draco, but the same thought had been on his mind. Weeks of eavesdropping around corners and using the Extendable Ears, and all they managed to learn were the names of a few Order members and the fact that some of them had been tasked with guarding something valuable. What it was and where it was kept, none of them could hazard a guess.
Draco's complaints continued as he and Ron joined the rest of the cleaning committee upstairs, where they each picked up a cleaning implement and resumed their work. Harry grabbed the doxycide sprayer again, though he was no longer in the mood for their game.
"I mean, isn't Harry supposed to be the Chosen One?" Draco continued, directing his comments in a whisper to Ron, "Why isn't he leading the Order against You-Know-Who? Why is Dumbledore in charge?"
Harry could no longer ignore Draco's muttering and turned toward him, "What are you talking about? What Chosen One?"
Since his arrival at Grimmauld Place, Draco had often seemed intimated by Harry. This strange demeanor was gone now. He was able to look Harry in the eye as he said, "You're the one who talked about picking the right side. Were you bluffing? Don't tell me my mother was wrong to come to you?"
He was referencing a comment that Harry had made during the last train ride back from Hogwarts. Draco had seemed so supremely smug after Voldemort's return that Harry hadn't been able to resist goading him a little. He'd mentioned seeing Draco's father that night, and even admitted that Voldemort had tried to kill him again. He'd failed, of course, and Harry allowed Draco to form his own conclusions about who, between the two wizards, was the most powerful. He'd wanted to shake Draco's confidence, but apparently his little jab had been weighing on Draco's mind with unexpected consequences. Did he think Harry was some sort of savior? An invincible wizard born to destroy Lord Voldemort?
"Me?" Harry asked, "I thought your mum went to Mrs. Zabini for help because they're friends."
Draco, rather exasperated, replied, "My mother only went to Mrs. Zabini because she's your guardian, Harry. She thought if we found out where you were staying, we'd be safe from You-Know-Who and my… And the Death Eaters. She must have realized the truth… That you really are stronger than him. That's got to be it, right? It's the only thing that makes sense. You're the one who's going to defeat the Dark Lord."
Everyone was looking at Harry now, including Blaise and Millie. But Harry didn't know what to say. It was Ginny who finally broke the silence.
"Harry's no Chosen One according to the Prophet," she said with a wry smile.
Millie chuckled slightly. Even with Rita Skeeter out of commission, the Daily Prophet had been doing everything it could to discredit Dumbledore, including attacks against Harry. Although Harry had remained silent on the subject of Voldemort's return and the circumstances of Professor Moody's death, that hadn't stopped Cornelius Fudge from taking precautions. They were positive it had been Fudge spearheading the effort to slander Harry's name in case he talked, though it was Dumbledore who got the worst of it. After all, Dumbledore had announced publicly that Voldemort had returned, and that one of his followers was responsible for killing Alastor Moody. His speech to the students at the end of last year made headlines, and now Fudge was doing damage control.
As for Harry, he had told the whole story of his involvement in that plot to only a few people. He doubted even the Weasleys knew of the role he had played in Voldemort's return. It would explain their interest now as they continued to stare at Harry with open curiosity. The twins, taking their cue from Ginny, asked Harry, "What do you think?"
"Are you the pretender the Prophet makes you out to be…"
"Or the hero everyone expects?"
Harry gazed at the faces staring back at him. Even Blaise and Millie were looking at him with anticipation, curious to see what he would say. Harry could feel a knot of discomfort building somewhere around his stomach.
"I think," he said after a pause, "That this house is too crowded."
And with that, he resumed his doxy hunt.