Chapter 5
Unfortunate News
"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre
minds."
–Einstein
Draco woke the next morning to some one shaking his shoulder roughly. Without a sound or opening his eyes, he grabbed the hand with lightning- quick speed and firmly pressed down.
"Ow, Draco; let go of me." He recognized Goyle's voice and let go of his hand, opening his eyes. It was still dark out, and he looked at the clock beside his bed. It read 4:30 am.
"What do you oafs want to so bloody early in the morning?" He snapped his fingers, and the candles in the chandelier above his bed lit up. Crabbe and Goyle were standing next the bed, looking overly tense and wringing their hands nervously. "Where's Kreacher?"
The two exchanged panicked glances. "Well, you said that you wanted us to get him to tell us what he knows about the Order," Crabbe said fretfully. "He wouldn't tell us, so..." Goyle reached down and pulled up something that looked like it used to be a house elf.
Kreacher's robes were more torn than they were the day before, and stained with blood. A piece of his left ear was missing, both his eyes were black and blue and swollen, and a thin trickle of blood escaped his lips. His head lolled on his shoulders.
"You empty-headed buffoons," Draco hissed, throwing off his blankets and vaulting from the bed. "Put him down!" Goyle immediately dropped Kreacher. He landed with a soft thump and let out a low moan.
Draco rolled his eyes with exasperation and bent next to the house elf. "That's not what I meant, you half-brained twit!" He gently picked him up and placed him on the bed. He rounded on Crabbe and Goyle, his usually slate gray eyes almost black with anger.
"You beat him up? You two ogres beat up a house elf one tenth your size?" His eyes were blazing.
"You said to get the information from him."
"Vertaiserum. I didn't help you two through two years of Advanced Potions so you could beat up a house elf!"
"He was just talking gibberish –" "Of course he was. He spent thirteen years in a house, by himself, talking to a picture. What did you expect him to do; sing 'Madame Butterfly'?"
A loud knock rang from the door.
"Damn," Draco whispered. He pushed Crabbe and Goyle into his closet. He ran back to the bed, picked up Kreacher, and tossed him to them. Crabbe caught him and Goyle shut the door.
The bedroom door burst open, and Lucius stood in the doorway, wand out. "Next time I knock," he said calmly, returning his wand to his pocket, "be quicker answering the door."
"Of course...Father." Draco's eyes bore into his father's. They held each other's stare, waiting for the other to drop his gaze. After a few moments, Draco broke the silence. "May I inquire why you are in my room so early in the morning?"
Lucius sneered. "I have as much right as you do here." "I'd like to continue sleeping, so if you could hurry this up a bit, I'd be rather thankful."
"You're lucky I don't curse that look off you face. Your mother and I will be out for the day. You are not to leave the grounds; understand?"
"Understood." "Good." Lucius turned, and then stopped. "If I find out that you left the premises, you'll wish you'd been feed to a herd of wild manticores. Keep that in mind."
He walked away, leaving the door open. Draco rushed to the doorway and looked out to make sure that Lucius was gone. He shut the door, rushed to the closet, and threw it open. Crabbe and Goyle stood motionless, each with a look of pure terror set on their face. He took Kreacher and placed him on his bed.
His breathing was heavy and irregular, and there was a large bilge under his shirt. It looked revoltingly similar to a bone jutting from under the skin.
"I cannot believe the stupidity of you two," Draco spat out. "I can't ask what you were thinking, because obviously intelligent thought is beyond your grasp."
"We were just doing what you told us to," Crabbe protested, stepping out from the closet.
"I distinctly remember not saying, 'Beat Kreacher to a pulp.' Things like that stay with a person."
"What do we do now?" Goyle asked. "Well, we very well can't get him professional help' we'd have to explain what happened. And I don't think that he'll last until morning, even with a Healer's help."
Draco sat down on the floor, running his hands through his silver hair and grabbing fistfuls. He sat silent for a while, and Crabbe and Goyle stood next to him, looking overly uncomfortable.
"Kreacher was the only thing we had against the Order," he said finally. "What good would he possibly be worth to us, if he... were...DEAD?!?" They jumped as he yelled the last word. "You two better hope that the bloody house elf lives, because you will not want to face the Dark Lord if he dies."
Goyle opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off before he started, without looking up. "Just leave me alone for a while. Go sit in the living room or something; I need to think for a bit."
They walked silently from the room, leaving Draco alone on the floor. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"We are so screwed."
-
Harry woke up with a stomachache from eating too much the night before. It was an oddly happy feeling, but it left when he remembered what he had to do that day.
He groaned and rolled out of bed. After pulling on a fresh set of clothes, he headed downstairs. The Weasley kids sat at the table accompanied by Mundungus and Lupin. The most anyone had in front of them was toast, except Ron; he was eating more than Harry did in a week.
"Don't you ever get tired of shoveling food down your throat?" Harry asked. He sat down next to Ginny, who was looking rather pale as she watched her brother eat across the table.
"Nope," he answered, spraying bits of egg out of his mouth.
"Where do you put it all?"
"Don't know; don't care. The way I see it, I should eat like this while I still can. That way when my metabolism comes to a screeching halt, I won't take on the girth of Madame Maxime."
Harry snorted as a bowl of porridge was set down in front of him. He looked up at Mrs. Weasley; he could already feel his stomach tighten. "You have got to be kidding. I ate all the food I'll need for the week last night." "Just a little bit," Mrs. Weasley urged. "It will do you good to get some hot, fresh food in you."
Harry offered a weak smile and slowly picked up his spoon. She beamed down at him and walked into the kitchen. He waited until the door closed to push the bowl to Ron.
"Thanks," Ron said, swallowing the last bite of eggs. He picked up Harry's spoon and dug into the porridge.
Ginny groaned and stood up. "I can't watch anymore of this; it's torture. I'm going to go get dressed." She turned and walked upstairs.
Fred turned to George. "We had better get going, too. The order of Fat Lip Licorice is supposed to come in today."
"What's Fat Lip Licorice; if I may so bold to ask?" Harry inquired.
"A new candy we've invented," George answered. "If you eat it, your lips will swell to five times their normal size. You won't even be able to speak."
"How do you know that?"
A smile pulled at the corners of George's mouth. "We've...uh...run some tests."
"Tests!" Ron exclaimed. "You cut some up and put them in my stew! It took forever for the swelling to go down."
Harry burst into laughter and Ron scowled, returning his full attention to his porridge.
"Come on, Fred; let's go. We're supposed to open soon, anyway." The twins waved, then simultaneously Disapparated. Ron flinched at the noise.
"I hate it when they do that," he said, and returned to eating.
Harry looked sideways at Lupin and Mundungus at the other end if the table; they were immersed in their own conversation. Still, Harry leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Ron, Hermione is coming over early this afternoon. We're going to try to find Malfoy Manor and get Kreacher back."
Ron choked on the food he was still eating. "What?" His voice was just above a whisper. "Are you both mad? We can't do that; we'll be sent home in a thimble."
"Don't exaggerate."
"I'm not!" His whisper was shrill. "Walking into a hippogriff's cave wearing meat soaked pants is safer than walking up to Malfoy's front door."
"Look, just finish eating and we'll talk about this upstairs."
At that moment, Hedwig came swooping into the dinning room and landed next to Ron's bowl. Harry removed the small scrap of parchment from her outstretched leg. She nipped his hand affectionately, hooted a soft goodbye, and flew out of the room. Harry looked at the message for a moment.
"Come on," he said, "we're leaving now."
"What?"
"Hermione's found something." Harry crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, standing as he did so.
"But I'm not done," Ron whined.
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his friend out of his chair.
Unfortunate News
"Great spirits have always encountered violent opposition from mediocre
minds."
–Einstein
Draco woke the next morning to some one shaking his shoulder roughly. Without a sound or opening his eyes, he grabbed the hand with lightning- quick speed and firmly pressed down.
"Ow, Draco; let go of me." He recognized Goyle's voice and let go of his hand, opening his eyes. It was still dark out, and he looked at the clock beside his bed. It read 4:30 am.
"What do you oafs want to so bloody early in the morning?" He snapped his fingers, and the candles in the chandelier above his bed lit up. Crabbe and Goyle were standing next the bed, looking overly tense and wringing their hands nervously. "Where's Kreacher?"
The two exchanged panicked glances. "Well, you said that you wanted us to get him to tell us what he knows about the Order," Crabbe said fretfully. "He wouldn't tell us, so..." Goyle reached down and pulled up something that looked like it used to be a house elf.
Kreacher's robes were more torn than they were the day before, and stained with blood. A piece of his left ear was missing, both his eyes were black and blue and swollen, and a thin trickle of blood escaped his lips. His head lolled on his shoulders.
"You empty-headed buffoons," Draco hissed, throwing off his blankets and vaulting from the bed. "Put him down!" Goyle immediately dropped Kreacher. He landed with a soft thump and let out a low moan.
Draco rolled his eyes with exasperation and bent next to the house elf. "That's not what I meant, you half-brained twit!" He gently picked him up and placed him on the bed. He rounded on Crabbe and Goyle, his usually slate gray eyes almost black with anger.
"You beat him up? You two ogres beat up a house elf one tenth your size?" His eyes were blazing.
"You said to get the information from him."
"Vertaiserum. I didn't help you two through two years of Advanced Potions so you could beat up a house elf!"
"He was just talking gibberish –" "Of course he was. He spent thirteen years in a house, by himself, talking to a picture. What did you expect him to do; sing 'Madame Butterfly'?"
A loud knock rang from the door.
"Damn," Draco whispered. He pushed Crabbe and Goyle into his closet. He ran back to the bed, picked up Kreacher, and tossed him to them. Crabbe caught him and Goyle shut the door.
The bedroom door burst open, and Lucius stood in the doorway, wand out. "Next time I knock," he said calmly, returning his wand to his pocket, "be quicker answering the door."
"Of course...Father." Draco's eyes bore into his father's. They held each other's stare, waiting for the other to drop his gaze. After a few moments, Draco broke the silence. "May I inquire why you are in my room so early in the morning?"
Lucius sneered. "I have as much right as you do here." "I'd like to continue sleeping, so if you could hurry this up a bit, I'd be rather thankful."
"You're lucky I don't curse that look off you face. Your mother and I will be out for the day. You are not to leave the grounds; understand?"
"Understood." "Good." Lucius turned, and then stopped. "If I find out that you left the premises, you'll wish you'd been feed to a herd of wild manticores. Keep that in mind."
He walked away, leaving the door open. Draco rushed to the doorway and looked out to make sure that Lucius was gone. He shut the door, rushed to the closet, and threw it open. Crabbe and Goyle stood motionless, each with a look of pure terror set on their face. He took Kreacher and placed him on his bed.
His breathing was heavy and irregular, and there was a large bilge under his shirt. It looked revoltingly similar to a bone jutting from under the skin.
"I cannot believe the stupidity of you two," Draco spat out. "I can't ask what you were thinking, because obviously intelligent thought is beyond your grasp."
"We were just doing what you told us to," Crabbe protested, stepping out from the closet.
"I distinctly remember not saying, 'Beat Kreacher to a pulp.' Things like that stay with a person."
"What do we do now?" Goyle asked. "Well, we very well can't get him professional help' we'd have to explain what happened. And I don't think that he'll last until morning, even with a Healer's help."
Draco sat down on the floor, running his hands through his silver hair and grabbing fistfuls. He sat silent for a while, and Crabbe and Goyle stood next to him, looking overly uncomfortable.
"Kreacher was the only thing we had against the Order," he said finally. "What good would he possibly be worth to us, if he... were...DEAD?!?" They jumped as he yelled the last word. "You two better hope that the bloody house elf lives, because you will not want to face the Dark Lord if he dies."
Goyle opened his mouth, but Draco cut him off before he started, without looking up. "Just leave me alone for a while. Go sit in the living room or something; I need to think for a bit."
They walked silently from the room, leaving Draco alone on the floor. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"We are so screwed."
-
Harry woke up with a stomachache from eating too much the night before. It was an oddly happy feeling, but it left when he remembered what he had to do that day.
He groaned and rolled out of bed. After pulling on a fresh set of clothes, he headed downstairs. The Weasley kids sat at the table accompanied by Mundungus and Lupin. The most anyone had in front of them was toast, except Ron; he was eating more than Harry did in a week.
"Don't you ever get tired of shoveling food down your throat?" Harry asked. He sat down next to Ginny, who was looking rather pale as she watched her brother eat across the table.
"Nope," he answered, spraying bits of egg out of his mouth.
"Where do you put it all?"
"Don't know; don't care. The way I see it, I should eat like this while I still can. That way when my metabolism comes to a screeching halt, I won't take on the girth of Madame Maxime."
Harry snorted as a bowl of porridge was set down in front of him. He looked up at Mrs. Weasley; he could already feel his stomach tighten. "You have got to be kidding. I ate all the food I'll need for the week last night." "Just a little bit," Mrs. Weasley urged. "It will do you good to get some hot, fresh food in you."
Harry offered a weak smile and slowly picked up his spoon. She beamed down at him and walked into the kitchen. He waited until the door closed to push the bowl to Ron.
"Thanks," Ron said, swallowing the last bite of eggs. He picked up Harry's spoon and dug into the porridge.
Ginny groaned and stood up. "I can't watch anymore of this; it's torture. I'm going to go get dressed." She turned and walked upstairs.
Fred turned to George. "We had better get going, too. The order of Fat Lip Licorice is supposed to come in today."
"What's Fat Lip Licorice; if I may so bold to ask?" Harry inquired.
"A new candy we've invented," George answered. "If you eat it, your lips will swell to five times their normal size. You won't even be able to speak."
"How do you know that?"
A smile pulled at the corners of George's mouth. "We've...uh...run some tests."
"Tests!" Ron exclaimed. "You cut some up and put them in my stew! It took forever for the swelling to go down."
Harry burst into laughter and Ron scowled, returning his full attention to his porridge.
"Come on, Fred; let's go. We're supposed to open soon, anyway." The twins waved, then simultaneously Disapparated. Ron flinched at the noise.
"I hate it when they do that," he said, and returned to eating.
Harry looked sideways at Lupin and Mundungus at the other end if the table; they were immersed in their own conversation. Still, Harry leaned in and lowered his voice.
"Ron, Hermione is coming over early this afternoon. We're going to try to find Malfoy Manor and get Kreacher back."
Ron choked on the food he was still eating. "What?" His voice was just above a whisper. "Are you both mad? We can't do that; we'll be sent home in a thimble."
"Don't exaggerate."
"I'm not!" His whisper was shrill. "Walking into a hippogriff's cave wearing meat soaked pants is safer than walking up to Malfoy's front door."
"Look, just finish eating and we'll talk about this upstairs."
At that moment, Hedwig came swooping into the dinning room and landed next to Ron's bowl. Harry removed the small scrap of parchment from her outstretched leg. She nipped his hand affectionately, hooted a soft goodbye, and flew out of the room. Harry looked at the message for a moment.
"Come on," he said, "we're leaving now."
"What?"
"Hermione's found something." Harry crumpled the paper and stuffed it in his pocket, standing as he did so.
"But I'm not done," Ron whined.
Harry rolled his eyes and pulled his friend out of his chair.