Chapter 10
Ron awoke the next morning, Saturday, to bright sunshine. He looked quickly over at Caroline's bed, but the curtains were now blocking her from the curious view of passers-by. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray. "It's all finished," she said brightly. "When you're done eating you may leave."
Ron glanced at his hand. There was no sign of the previous days' burn-the green salve had evidently done its work well.
He dressed quickly and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Hermione about Caroline. He found her sitting in an armchair drawn up near the fire, poring over the contents of Moste Potente Potions.
"Hermione, there's something I've got to tell you," he whispered, pulling a stool close to her chair. "Caroline O'Connor, that girl from Ravenclaw who Ginny knows. You know who I mean?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Is she Muggle-born?"
"She must be," Ron said, "Or else she'd never've been attacked."
"We've got to start on the Polyjuice Potion as soon as possible," said Hermione, a determined glint in her eye. "The sooner we worm a confession out of Malfoy, the better."
"Yeah," Ron agreed fervently. Hermione glanced suspiciously at him, but didn't ask questions.
"I don't understand why the film burnt up, though," she said thoughtfully after a moment. "Or what Professor Dumbledore meant about it being open 'again', and the same person as before." She blew out her breath in exasperation. "I don't understand much of what's going on," she admitted.
"Yeah, neither do I," said Ron, staring into the fire.
"Some of these ingredients are really difficult to come by," Hermione said, changing the subject and pointing at the Polyjuice Potion recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, knotgrass, fluxweed," she murmured. "Those will be easy, they're in the student-store cupboard. But look at this-powdered horn of a bicorn-shredded skin of a boomslang-I have no idea how we'll get those. I suppose we'll have to break into Snape's store for them," she added thoughtfully.
Ron paled. "Snape's private store?" he repeated faintly. "Hermione, we could get expelled for doing this."
"Well, if you're going to chicken out, then fine," Hermione said, her eyes flashing. "I don't want to get expelled, but I think attacking Muggle-borns is much worse. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go and hand the book back to Madam Pince."
"I told you I'd do it, Hermione," Ron said. "Just-Snape's private stores-," he stopped at the look Hermione gave him. "Er-how long will it take to make?" He asked quickly.
"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have to be stewed for twenty-one days.I'd say it'd be about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."
And without another word, she turned away from him to continue studying the recipe.
* * *
"No!"
A flash of green light filled the room, and Harry closed his eyes, awaiting something he did not know-when something large hurtled across the room to stand in front of him. A moment later Danady lay before him on the floor, lifeless.
Harry gaped at him for a moment, and then he heard Isabel's thin sobs and saw Malfoy's white, angry face.
"So," he said softly, "The traitor has died to save you. All the better, for now he is out of the way and the exulted Master may still carry out his plans. Take her!" he barked suddenly at the two masked men who still stood behind him in the doorway. They hurried forward, wands trained on Isabel, and performed a curse that Harry could not see-a moment later she was being suspended like a large puppet, and walked out of the room.
"Is she-," Harry began, but Lucius Malfoy shook his head. "Oh no," he said with a smile, "She is not dead. The useful little Listening Charm that I placed on your room yesterday allowed me to listen in on both your conversations, last night and this morning. I heard much that was interesting to me-and I'm sure that I can get more from young Miss Garcia, using the right keys.
"But you, boy, what will I do with you? It is no longer safe to keep you here, in a normal bedroom with little more than protective locking spells to safeguard it-for not even I foresaw that you would have need of anti- Apparition charms, too. I will think about it, then," he added to himself. "Now that we have the spies with us, no instant action needs to be taken."
Without another word to Harry he whirled around and left the room.
Harry walked slowly back to the bed, and-for the first time since the night before-he examined the Invisibility Cloak that Danady had worn.
It looked no different than his own. Both were made from the same silvery, fluid substance, and both did their job equally well-and the one now in his hands could be the key to escaping from the Malfoy manor.
He hid the cloak quickly beneath his robes as the door opened again. Narcissa entered with a tray of food; she looked as if she was in a better mood than the night before and-unlike previous days-was willing to explain even to Harry the cause of her glee.
"So, boy, is what Lucius tells me true? You helped that traitoress Isabel and her husband to escape? It's all taken care of, now.Lucius tells me you are to be put someplace no one will find you-,"
"And I don't expect you to confide in a prisoner, Narcissa," said a cold, drawling voice. Narcissa whirled around, startled, to confront Mr. Malfoy- for it was he who stood in the doorway. "Really," he continued, taking a step inside, "Your delight at the capture of the traitorous scum Isabel Garcia shouldn't lead you so low as to converse with the son of James Potter."
"Lucius-I did not mean-I wasn't really-," Narcissa stammered. Swiftly she set the tray down, and muttered something about going downstairs. Without another word she swept passed him, her face brilliantly pink.
He turned to Harry, smirking slightly. "Come with me," he said. "You won't need to bring the tray. And you won't be back here."
Clutching the bulge in his robes that was the Invisibility Cloak and hoping Malfoy wouldn't notice, Harry followed sullenly as he was led through endless purple-carpeted corridors and down several rickety staircases until he had lost all sense of direction completely.
When they were some distance underground, Harry thought, the furnishings began to get shabbier. The carpet had disappeared, and the floors were now simply uncovered cement. The walls, too, were no longer furnished-the entire area reminded Harry greatly of the dungeons under Hogwarts. A suspicious fear began to edge its way into his thoughts as he followed Lucius Malfoy farther and farther away from the purple-carpeted bedroom.
They walked so long that Harry became semi-numb, no longer noticing the changes in décor around him. He hardly noticed when Malfoy drew his wand and pushed Harry roughly backwards, muttering an incantation as he did so.
"Everate!" he said finally, and the door swung slowly open.
"In here," Malfoy said nastily. "Perhaps this will suit you better, Potter- Anti-Apparition spells, heavy locking protections, and more that a simple second-year student couldn't possibly begin to comprehend. All in all, I think it will keep you.safe."
He pushed Harry inside the room-a small stone dungeon with wire racks full of old, cracked glass bottles lining the walls.
Harry clutched protectively at the lump inside his cloak, hoping Mr. Malfoy wouldn't notice it. If there would be a chance in the next passage of time to slip away, it would be through the power of the Cloak Danady had left behind.
Danady. Harry's mind wandered numbly back to the picture of Danady's limp, lifeless form-he died to protect me, he thought dispassionately. I should feel sad-I should cry-I should curse Malfoy-
But he did none of these things; only followed Lucius Malfoy into the stone dungeon. He stood silently in the middle of the room until his captor had left with a malevolent chuckle and more biting words, and then had sat slowly down where he stood. The only light in the large room was from a single, sputtering candle that Malfoy had placed there before he departed.
Isabel-Mr. Danady-they're both gone now, he thought numbly. It's because of me-if I hadn't yelled-
It would have happened anyway, said a malicious voice in the back of his mind. You didn't cause any of it.none.
But if I hadn't yelled, Harry thought dully, Mr. Malfoy wouldn't've heard- they would've escaped in time-they only stayed to explain about Voldemort's pet monster.
Ah, persisted the voice, but what about the listening-charm Malfoy placed on your room?
They never told me what they were doing, or where they were going, Harry thought angrily. Malfoy wouldn't've known till it was too late, and they were safe.
You can never be too sure of that, said the voice spitefully. I'd watch your back from now on if I were you..
"Oh, just leave me alone," said Harry aloud, and pulled his cloak over his face.
He sat like this for a long time, or so it seemed, although he could not be sure whether it was hours or minutes that had passed by. Visions of gargantuan snakes with hypnotic, bulbous eyes flitted through his mind, and he saw Danady fall to the ground over and over. Then, too, pictures of Ron and Hermione cornered by the Basilisk haunted him, until he was surrounded by horrible images. Quickly he pulled the cloak from his face, only to be rewarded with the sight of the cold, disheartening dungeon room.
For the first time, he noticed a moldering cot in the farthest corner of the room, overhung with spiderwebs housing the largest, most evil-looking spiders Harry had ever seen. Still, it was a bed-better than cold stone floor-and so he brushed the spiders to the floor and climbed onto the cot.
Immediately he fell asleep, although his dreams were quite as dark as his waking moments. Visions of the madness at Hogwarts filled them, growing each more terrifying.
Finally he woke. It was dark; the candle had died completely. Harry groped for his wand, but it was not there-all that met his touch was the fluid Invisibility Cloak. He pulled it out from where it still stayed, under his cloak. It shone faintly silver in the darkness, and impulsively he put in on.
He lay slowly back down again, brushing a fat spider from the rotting pillow. The feel of the Invisibility cloak enveloping him was strangely comforting, as though he was not alone but with an old friend. Still wearing the Cloak he drifted off once more, this time to a deep and dreamless sleep.
Ron awoke the next morning, Saturday, to bright sunshine. He looked quickly over at Caroline's bed, but the curtains were now blocking her from the curious view of passers-by. Seeing that he was awake, Madam Pomfrey came bustling over with a breakfast tray. "It's all finished," she said brightly. "When you're done eating you may leave."
Ron glanced at his hand. There was no sign of the previous days' burn-the green salve had evidently done its work well.
He dressed quickly and hurried off to Gryffindor Tower, desperate to tell Hermione about Caroline. He found her sitting in an armchair drawn up near the fire, poring over the contents of Moste Potente Potions.
"Hermione, there's something I've got to tell you," he whispered, pulling a stool close to her chair. "Caroline O'Connor, that girl from Ravenclaw who Ginny knows. You know who I mean?"
Hermione's eyes widened. "Is she Muggle-born?"
"She must be," Ron said, "Or else she'd never've been attacked."
"We've got to start on the Polyjuice Potion as soon as possible," said Hermione, a determined glint in her eye. "The sooner we worm a confession out of Malfoy, the better."
"Yeah," Ron agreed fervently. Hermione glanced suspiciously at him, but didn't ask questions.
"I don't understand why the film burnt up, though," she said thoughtfully after a moment. "Or what Professor Dumbledore meant about it being open 'again', and the same person as before." She blew out her breath in exasperation. "I don't understand much of what's going on," she admitted.
"Yeah, neither do I," said Ron, staring into the fire.
"Some of these ingredients are really difficult to come by," Hermione said, changing the subject and pointing at the Polyjuice Potion recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, knotgrass, fluxweed," she murmured. "Those will be easy, they're in the student-store cupboard. But look at this-powdered horn of a bicorn-shredded skin of a boomslang-I have no idea how we'll get those. I suppose we'll have to break into Snape's store for them," she added thoughtfully.
Ron paled. "Snape's private store?" he repeated faintly. "Hermione, we could get expelled for doing this."
"Well, if you're going to chicken out, then fine," Hermione said, her eyes flashing. "I don't want to get expelled, but I think attacking Muggle-borns is much worse. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go and hand the book back to Madam Pince."
"I told you I'd do it, Hermione," Ron said. "Just-Snape's private stores-," he stopped at the look Hermione gave him. "Er-how long will it take to make?" He asked quickly.
"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have to be stewed for twenty-one days.I'd say it'd be about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."
And without another word, she turned away from him to continue studying the recipe.
* * *
"No!"
A flash of green light filled the room, and Harry closed his eyes, awaiting something he did not know-when something large hurtled across the room to stand in front of him. A moment later Danady lay before him on the floor, lifeless.
Harry gaped at him for a moment, and then he heard Isabel's thin sobs and saw Malfoy's white, angry face.
"So," he said softly, "The traitor has died to save you. All the better, for now he is out of the way and the exulted Master may still carry out his plans. Take her!" he barked suddenly at the two masked men who still stood behind him in the doorway. They hurried forward, wands trained on Isabel, and performed a curse that Harry could not see-a moment later she was being suspended like a large puppet, and walked out of the room.
"Is she-," Harry began, but Lucius Malfoy shook his head. "Oh no," he said with a smile, "She is not dead. The useful little Listening Charm that I placed on your room yesterday allowed me to listen in on both your conversations, last night and this morning. I heard much that was interesting to me-and I'm sure that I can get more from young Miss Garcia, using the right keys.
"But you, boy, what will I do with you? It is no longer safe to keep you here, in a normal bedroom with little more than protective locking spells to safeguard it-for not even I foresaw that you would have need of anti- Apparition charms, too. I will think about it, then," he added to himself. "Now that we have the spies with us, no instant action needs to be taken."
Without another word to Harry he whirled around and left the room.
Harry walked slowly back to the bed, and-for the first time since the night before-he examined the Invisibility Cloak that Danady had worn.
It looked no different than his own. Both were made from the same silvery, fluid substance, and both did their job equally well-and the one now in his hands could be the key to escaping from the Malfoy manor.
He hid the cloak quickly beneath his robes as the door opened again. Narcissa entered with a tray of food; she looked as if she was in a better mood than the night before and-unlike previous days-was willing to explain even to Harry the cause of her glee.
"So, boy, is what Lucius tells me true? You helped that traitoress Isabel and her husband to escape? It's all taken care of, now.Lucius tells me you are to be put someplace no one will find you-,"
"And I don't expect you to confide in a prisoner, Narcissa," said a cold, drawling voice. Narcissa whirled around, startled, to confront Mr. Malfoy- for it was he who stood in the doorway. "Really," he continued, taking a step inside, "Your delight at the capture of the traitorous scum Isabel Garcia shouldn't lead you so low as to converse with the son of James Potter."
"Lucius-I did not mean-I wasn't really-," Narcissa stammered. Swiftly she set the tray down, and muttered something about going downstairs. Without another word she swept passed him, her face brilliantly pink.
He turned to Harry, smirking slightly. "Come with me," he said. "You won't need to bring the tray. And you won't be back here."
Clutching the bulge in his robes that was the Invisibility Cloak and hoping Malfoy wouldn't notice, Harry followed sullenly as he was led through endless purple-carpeted corridors and down several rickety staircases until he had lost all sense of direction completely.
When they were some distance underground, Harry thought, the furnishings began to get shabbier. The carpet had disappeared, and the floors were now simply uncovered cement. The walls, too, were no longer furnished-the entire area reminded Harry greatly of the dungeons under Hogwarts. A suspicious fear began to edge its way into his thoughts as he followed Lucius Malfoy farther and farther away from the purple-carpeted bedroom.
They walked so long that Harry became semi-numb, no longer noticing the changes in décor around him. He hardly noticed when Malfoy drew his wand and pushed Harry roughly backwards, muttering an incantation as he did so.
"Everate!" he said finally, and the door swung slowly open.
"In here," Malfoy said nastily. "Perhaps this will suit you better, Potter- Anti-Apparition spells, heavy locking protections, and more that a simple second-year student couldn't possibly begin to comprehend. All in all, I think it will keep you.safe."
He pushed Harry inside the room-a small stone dungeon with wire racks full of old, cracked glass bottles lining the walls.
Harry clutched protectively at the lump inside his cloak, hoping Mr. Malfoy wouldn't notice it. If there would be a chance in the next passage of time to slip away, it would be through the power of the Cloak Danady had left behind.
Danady. Harry's mind wandered numbly back to the picture of Danady's limp, lifeless form-he died to protect me, he thought dispassionately. I should feel sad-I should cry-I should curse Malfoy-
But he did none of these things; only followed Lucius Malfoy into the stone dungeon. He stood silently in the middle of the room until his captor had left with a malevolent chuckle and more biting words, and then had sat slowly down where he stood. The only light in the large room was from a single, sputtering candle that Malfoy had placed there before he departed.
Isabel-Mr. Danady-they're both gone now, he thought numbly. It's because of me-if I hadn't yelled-
It would have happened anyway, said a malicious voice in the back of his mind. You didn't cause any of it.none.
But if I hadn't yelled, Harry thought dully, Mr. Malfoy wouldn't've heard- they would've escaped in time-they only stayed to explain about Voldemort's pet monster.
Ah, persisted the voice, but what about the listening-charm Malfoy placed on your room?
They never told me what they were doing, or where they were going, Harry thought angrily. Malfoy wouldn't've known till it was too late, and they were safe.
You can never be too sure of that, said the voice spitefully. I'd watch your back from now on if I were you..
"Oh, just leave me alone," said Harry aloud, and pulled his cloak over his face.
He sat like this for a long time, or so it seemed, although he could not be sure whether it was hours or minutes that had passed by. Visions of gargantuan snakes with hypnotic, bulbous eyes flitted through his mind, and he saw Danady fall to the ground over and over. Then, too, pictures of Ron and Hermione cornered by the Basilisk haunted him, until he was surrounded by horrible images. Quickly he pulled the cloak from his face, only to be rewarded with the sight of the cold, disheartening dungeon room.
For the first time, he noticed a moldering cot in the farthest corner of the room, overhung with spiderwebs housing the largest, most evil-looking spiders Harry had ever seen. Still, it was a bed-better than cold stone floor-and so he brushed the spiders to the floor and climbed onto the cot.
Immediately he fell asleep, although his dreams were quite as dark as his waking moments. Visions of the madness at Hogwarts filled them, growing each more terrifying.
Finally he woke. It was dark; the candle had died completely. Harry groped for his wand, but it was not there-all that met his touch was the fluid Invisibility Cloak. He pulled it out from where it still stayed, under his cloak. It shone faintly silver in the darkness, and impulsively he put in on.
He lay slowly back down again, brushing a fat spider from the rotting pillow. The feel of the Invisibility cloak enveloping him was strangely comforting, as though he was not alone but with an old friend. Still wearing the Cloak he drifted off once more, this time to a deep and dreamless sleep.