CHAPTER TWELVE
As if this story couldn't get any crazier or more complex, there is yet another character to introduce: a woman of peculiar nature, she's hidden away in a tower far away from all of the other towers of the castle… and civilization, for that matter. Because she's the outcast of the castle, people easily forget about her – that is, until she surfaces.
Oh, all hell doesn't break loose whenever she surfaces. The only thing that breaks loose, really, is the door in the floor of the tower. She'll climb down her ladder, veil her face completely with her colorful scarf, and shuffle through the cold halls and down the many stairs until she comes to Lucius Malfoy's room. Without knocking, she'll enter and declare in a feeble voice what will happen in the near future or far future, depending on what she deems important to be told.
Because that was her job: to tell the future. All day, all night, she would bend over her crystal ball in the dark of her tower and only open the shutters at night so that she could read the stars. She belonged to the Malfoy castle, as her mother did, and her mother's mother, and as her daughter would. No one quite knew how the daughters were born because no one had ever seen a man enter through the floor; and yet every generation, there was another personal prophet of the Lord Malfoy. However, sometimes these women barely left their towers. Indeed, hundreds of years ago there was even a woman who didn't emerge at all. (Of course, a curious guard later found her corpse in a corner of the tower, but that isn't the point.)
Now, this particular female prophet is indeed another character introduced in this story, but I assure you that her role (though of great value) doesn't appear very often; in fact, as far as I can see, she only appears once in this story.
As is custom, her vault door broke open, shaking dust loose from it so that it fell to the cold, stone floor below. It whined as she opened it and warily climbed down the ladder. Dressed in colorful rags, her face hidden, she cursed and rambled on through the halls. Servants froze in shock when they saw her; some hid, afraid of her; others ran in the other direction to other servants to spread the news that the woman had emerged from her tower. Even some royals were so shocked that they lost their supposed-to-be perfect composure.
She ignored all of them, of course, and went on her way to Lucius Malfoy's room. When she finally arrived, she barged in and didn't even blink when she realized that she had interrupted an obviously exceedingly important meeting involving the Lady, Lord, and five other Lords from other provinces.
Lord Malfoy stood up from his desks. The other Lords spun around in their seats.
"Leave!" Lord Malfoy said to the other Lords, and they all stood up immediately and left the Lord and Lady Malfoy and the woman alone in the room.
The woman didn't address any of them and looked only at Lord Malfoy. There was a dramatic pause before she said her eagerly awaited prophecy: "The foreign princess," she began, "is about to be the victim of an assassination attempt by a person whose aura is composed of enraged jealousy."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"That's the prophecy?" the Lord Malfoy demanded.
"Yes, Lord Malfoy."
"How is that a prophecy?" Lord Malfoy asked. "It's already happened!"
"I have said what has needed to be said," she replied mystically.
"GET OUT!" Lord Malfoy hollered in disgust. She sniffed, murmured something that vaguely sounded like, "Mere mortals," and took her time abiding.
But, contrary to what Lord Malfoy thought, the woman's information wasn't completely useless: because now they knew more about the person that had tried to murder the foreign princess. In the moments after the female prophet left, Lady Malfoy instantly sent for Draco and passed on the information to her son, who immediately said:
"But of course it's Parkinson!"
And it made sense. She always hated Harry, after all, and wanted Draco to herself. She even declared that she wanted Harry dead the very morning he was poisoned. But when members of the royal guards marched to her chambers, they found that only her servants remained. When interrogated, her servants said that she had all but fled that morning to her native lands. They were left to gather all of her things and take them back to the castle.
"You believe it was her, don't you?" Draco asked Hermione later that evening.
Hermione glanced away from the encyclopedia in front of her. "I don't know, but you promised me that you would concentrate on your work tonight."
"Tell me what you think," he commanded.
She complied half-heartedly and with a little sigh: "I honestly can't say that I think it was her."
But, obviously, Hermione's timid opinion on the matter didn't make any difference. The next morning, an entire troop of the royal guard left the Malfoy province and returned later that night with Pansy bound in chains. She was thrown into the dungeons where she would remain until her sentencing, though the guards didn't want to wait; they wanted to throttle her right then and there because her screams and pleas were driving them insane. "I don't even know what I've been accused of!" she would say shrilly before giving way to sobs.
Draco, frankly, was rather pleased. He never liked Parkinson, after all, and he wanted her to pay for trying to kill Harry.
I never did like watching executions, he thought to himself, but if she's sentenced to death, then I can afford watch this one.
Moments after Parkinson was thrown into the dungeons, the servants and slaves weren't the only ones rushing to their companions to spread the news. No one besides the Malfoy family, Hermione, and Harry knew exactly why Parkinson was imprisoned, so rumors of betrayal, love affairs, and pregnancy reached the ears of the commoners.
Draco arrived in Harry's chambers in near glee.
"It was Parkinson?" Harry echoed, surprise etching his tone.
"Yes, of course it was. She never did like you." Draco was disappointed that his excitement wasn't being shared.
"Yeah, but," Harry frowned. "She never seemed like the type to… well… I never thought she would try to kill me."
"You don't know her," Draco sat down on Harry's bed. "She's a selfish hog. She'll do anything to get her way."
Harry didn't seem completely convinced, but he had no choice but to accept what Draco was telling him. It seemed he had been forced into doing a lot of that lately.
They spoke for a little while about nothings in general – Harry trying his hardest to avoid all subject of what had been said at the lake (for some reason, he was embarrassed at the very thought.)
It took Draco a while to leave, and after he did Harry sat in heavy thought. Suddenly, he stood up and stripped off the dress he was to wear it at all times, even when he was in his tower. He was supposed to wear it all of the time now because servants were to bring him food in the morning, afternoon, and evening. They couldn't risk him lounging around as a man when a servant could pop in at any time. This annoyed him, but he never showed his frustration to the servants; in fact, they would often speak happily for a good few minutes: sometimes about the weather, sometimes about the politics outside of the castle. One time, the conversation Harry was holding with a servant went on so long that he had to invite the girl into the room so that she could properly talk to him. She was the daughter of the Fat Lady at the bread stand, Harry realized when she first started speaking, and he wanted to know how her mother and the other villagers were doing. (Of course, he had to ask indirectly so that he wouldn't seem too suspicious.)
Regardless, being confined to his tower had nearly driven him insane, and it didn't help that everyone – including Hermione – agreed that that's the way it should stay.
"It's for your own safety," Hermione told him gently when he complained to her.
"Oh, stop whining," Draco rolled his eyes when Harry turned to him.
But now, Harry decided to do something about being confined in the tower himself. He dressed into his slave clothes and took out a needle Hermione had brought for him. He'd told her that he should have some more feminine traces of hobbies, such as knitting, so that the servants wouldn't begin to question his supposed womanly qualities. The needle was pushed into the hole in the doorknob. He twisted it, pushed it, pulled it, and, biting his tongue in concentration, managed to get the doorknob to 'click' unlocked.
"Thank you, Fred and George," he murmured.
Now that he was free, where would he go?
He closed the door, carefully making sure that it was still unlocked so that he could slip back into the room later, and ambled down the stairs. It was half-way down that he realized he still had his wig on, so he had to run back up and toss it into the chamber. He walked around the corridors for a while, drifting aimlessly, simply enjoying walls that weren't the ones he stared at day in, day out.
It was at about the time he decided that he wanted a midnight snack from the kitchens that his tower door caught fire. An oil lamp had lit it, and it stayed at the foot of the door, used and abandoned to the flames.
Harry was helping himself to fresh fruit. He was trying to shadow his face away from three other servants, all of them talking about that one slave who was working in the kitchens but disappeared a while ago – yeah, the one who spilled a drink into Lord Draco's lap. Maybe he ran away? Perhaps he was kidnapped? Surely he wasn't killed. That was when they heard the panicked screams and yells. He and the three servants left the kitchen and ran up the halls to see what was going on. The smell of smoke was thick and strong. He started to cough and his eyes began to water.
"The foreign princess's bedroom is on fire!" some of the servants were yelling. Black smoke was billowing out of the staircase. Harry helplessly stood in shock as servants and slaves ran back and forth, grabbing pails of water.
With the adjoined efforts, they were able to prevent the fire from spreading, but the room and the staircase was completely destroyed. The remains of the bed was twisted, the dresses were ashes of pretty fabric, the golden candle holders had begun to melt, and the wig was completely destroyed.
"The princess's body isn't here," a servant declared, and the crowd that had gathered cheered; the Fat Lady's daughter, who was crying as servants searched through the rubble, began to sob all the harder in relief. Harry flushed and pointedly kept his eyes to the ground as he backed away from the group.
"What is this confusion?" Lady Malfoy demanded. She had strutted up the halls, a smaller servant tailing her.
The servants' cheers vanished and they timidly explained what happened, all of them noting again and again that the foreign princess wasn't there. The Lady started to peer into the crowd as if searching for the very person who might've caused the fire. It was only then that Harry realized that he should immediately go to Draco's rooms. It was easy for him to slip through the massive crowd of servants and slaves that were scattered throughout the halls. He ran up the stairs to Draco's doors and pounded on them.
Moments later, Draco, utterly bothered, opened the doors; when he saw Harry's face the annoyance softened.
"What're you doing out – do I smell smoke?"
"Someone burned down my tower," Harry said breathlessly as he was let into the room. When he actually said it the full reality of this statement hit him. Someone burned down the tower – assuming that Harry was inside of it.
Draco froze for a moment before he said, "Stay here. Better yet, get into my bed. Hide under the covers. Don't let anyone in." And with that, he quickly and carelessly dressed and left immediately, locking the door behind him. Harry nervously looked around the room to make sure that he was alone before he climbed into the bed and pulled the covers over him.
Draco all but ran to the scene. He demanded to know what had happened in greater detail, but he couldn't be given any more information than his mother had been given. Traces of the oil lamp outside of the door suggested that someone purposely lit the tower on fire. The foreign princess was nearly assassinated, and this time the Malfoy's couldn't keep it a secret.
It seemed that the woman's earlier prophecy had come true after all. But how – or rather, who – since Pansy was still locked in the dungeons?
Frankly, I really was never very good at telling mysteries, and I think it's safe to say that it's almost obvious that Pansy did not do the deed; it was, of course, Blaise Zabini.
Now, this is our little secret: yours and mine, but no one else's. Truthfully, all three of the Malfoy's were fully convinced that Pansy had tried to kill Harry – even Lady Malfoy, who was a close friend of the girl's. Really, only Hermione and Harry were unsure until this point.
No one had even thought to question the Harem Ladies, far below and never seen by anyone unless hunted for, and their servants (why would they?); but if they had, at least one of them would have said that Blaise had been acting strangely.
He was always sneaking out and was more moody than usual, that was for sure. He had been ordered to help the Harem Ladies, yet he only took up space.
Before Draco's elaborate plan, he stayed within the harems apparently with no qualms. The women there had all developed crushes on him and he was their favorite pet, in a sense. The other male servants that helped the ladies fell in love with him. He was popular, to say the least. So when he returned and glared at everyone who looked at him, wouldn't follow the other servants into more private areas, and even snapped at the ladies instead of helping them, well… no one was quite sure how to react.
Of their observations, they gathered that he was irritated because he wasn't useful anymore. "As if I'm some toy that can be replaced," he would mutter to himself angrily. And, at other times, "He's just a damned peasant – a slave!"
Harry was simply lucky that he picked the lock and escaped to the kitchens, which was when Blaise, assuming Harry was still in his tower, lit the door on fire.
Blaise took the lamp from the brothels; Blaise waited until all errands were finished and most servants and slaves were bound to be asleep; he lit the door ran down the tower stairs and to the corridors, waited for a few minutes; and only when he heard, "FIRE!" did he continue back down to the brothels to curious gazes. "Where were you?"
He only shrugged at the question and replied in a detached tone, "The foreign princess's tower is on fire."
Yes, Blaise had also poisoned Harry's tea before paying the server a large amount of money to serve the specific cup to the foreign princess. Why? Well, it was as Draco earlier said, wasn't it? Blaise was a hungry tiger; a jealous, hungry tiger.
While the perpetrator is a secret that is held between you and me, the fact that someone tried to kill the foreign princess is not. Rumors swept throughout the castle and into the village before night was even complete. And, in the middle of the forest, the spy headquarters were thrown into chaos before the sun had a chance to rise.
"What do you mean, Harry was nearly killed!" Ron demanded.
Bill, who had been roaming the streets as usual, listening to conversations and bits of information, replied, "I mean exactly what I said. The tower he was sleeping in was burnt down, but apparently Malfoy's son – er – visited earlier that evening and took him to his chambers, so Harry luckily wasn't in the tower – "
Molly nearly fainted.
"I have to go back there!" Ron said. "And Harry's coming back with me."
To his surprise, Remus and Arthur exchanged resigned looks.
"But what about the data collector?" Kingsley's deep voice was grave.
"What about him? Harry will be killed if we don't rescue him!" Fred or George said.
It was decided that Ron would return to the castle as soon as Remus finished giving him the specific outline of the plan.
The sun was rising when he slipped into the manor using one of the secret passages. He roamed the halls scattered with still-frantic and worried servants, but he didn't care that there were a lot of people about. He was only concerned about getting to Harry. However, before he could successfully make it to the kitchens, he was stopped:
"You again!"
Ron thought that the particular hall he was hurrying down was empty, so he couldn't help but jump when he heard a voice directly behind him. He spun around and saw the same girl with the weird name that had caught him last time, the one with the bushy hair. Those hands on her hips, that untrusting stare…
"Where are you going?"
"The kitchens," he said quickly as he tried to continue on his way, but the girl wasn't satisfied:
"Again?"
"Yeah. I work there."
"I checked with the head cook. He doesn't seem to know that he received someone fitting your description."
"Well, there are new slaves and servants everyday, so he probably just doesn't remember me – "
Hermione stared at him, scrutinizing, as if searching for a hint or trace of a lie. "I don't believe you."
Ron stilled. "Well – that's nice and all, but I really need – "
"I think you're the one that's trying to kill the princess."
And, at this, Ron's blinked and would've laughed hadn't he been in such a hurry. "Me? Try to kill the princess?"
"Why else would a villager hide inside of the castle and pretend to be a slave?"
"I am a slave!"
"You're not in uniform."
Ron glanced down at the clothes he was wearing and felt his heart skip a beat at his stupidity; no wonder so many people were staring. "I left my uniform in the kitchen. That's why I need to – "
"Rubbish," Hermione glared. "I should turn you in!"
"No!" Ron looked around. "You can't do that. I need to get to the kitchens – it's important – "
"You're the assassin. You're going to be executed." And at that, she turned on her heel to march to the closest guards.
Ron suddenly became very furious at Hermione and ran in front of her to prevent her from going anywhere.
"Get out of my way!" she cried. "You're to be punished for what you've done – "
"I'm not trying to kill Harry, you idiot, I'm trying to help him!"
The expression on Hermione's face suddenly became very odd indeed. "Harry?"
Ron's eyes widened and he nearly knocked himself over the head. "Ah – it's – erm – I meant – "
"You… you know Harry?"
Now, of course, Ron was expecting anything but this response. For a moment, the two of them stared at each other, slightly suspiciously but mostly in wonder. They both came to the same conclusion, though Hermione arrived at it first: they were both on the same side. Ron, however, was never very smart about keeping his mouth shut, and he said the next second, in a rather hushed and marveled tone:
"Are you part of the Order too?"
Hermione almost let, "The – Order?" slip, but instead she smoothly lied, "Yes. I am. What're you going to do?"
"I have to go rescue Harry!" Ron said, relieved that this suspicious girl was actually on his side. Now she would, no doubt, let him continue to the kitchens.
"From what?"
"From what?" Ron was bewildered. "From the assassin, of course! From the damned castle! He's spied on the Malfoy's enough. He doesn't need to stay," he defended when she seemed to get a slightly haughty expression to her face.
"Spy?"
"Yes. He's in the spy department. I guess that you're part of the department that watches out for him and makes sure that he doesn't get into any trouble." And, when he realized that he was rambling, he said, "I have to go!"
"Wait!" Hermione said. "Er – how are you going to rescue him?"
"I'm going to take him from the castle, of course! And back to headquarters!"
Hermione, torn, watched the boy in front of her. The part of her that secretly thought of Harry's nature suspicious – the part that caught him reading Draco's journal, the part that realized that he was a bit too defiant for his own good – realized that this spy was telling the truth, no matter how insane it sounded. She'd known that there was a high possibility that a rebellious organization was forming. Repressed people always rebel, as history showed her. But Harry – part of that rebellion? The part that half-disbelieved this fact was also the half that believed Ron was a complete loony bin.
But it didn't really matter what she thought. The fact was that this boy knew Harry's name and therefore knew the real Harry – the man Harry, from the village. Hell, he was probably one of the very friends Harry spoke of so much. All of them had red hair, after all, just like the one in front of her.
And then there was the thought that overshadowed all others: Harry was about to be rescued. Harry was about to be taken from the castle. And… well, she would probably never see Harry again. Yet… he would also be safe and would return to where he belonged – to the friends and family he so often mentioned.
"I can help you," she said with a guided expression. "I'll take you to him."
Ron was supposed to go to the kitchens to wait to be taken to wherever Harry was, but he knew that it would be much faster to just leave with Hermione. Thankfully, he nodded and followed her through the halls.
Draco was in a highly important meeting with his father and his mother. They were discussing the second assassination attempt, most likely, and what the next step should be. It was bound to last hours. That's why she wasn't worried when she took Ron to Draco's chambers. Harry had long ago come out from underneath the covers, but at the clicking sound his heart skipped a few beats. His expression changed from uncertain fear within seconds.
"Hermione – Ron!"
He looked from one to the other, wondering if it was another dream. Had he at some point fallen asleep? "What – ?"
Ron rushed over to the bed. "Harry, you have to come with me – now. You're expected to return to headquarters by the end of the night."
Harry looked pointedly at Hermione, but Ron waved her off. "She's in the Order too," he rushed off, but at Hermione's guilty look Harry realized Ron's grave mistake. Ron didn't seem to notice anything, but Hermione quickly said to Harry:
"I won't tell anyone that you're spies," she said quickly. "I just wanted to help you. I – I'll also give you a secret passage out of here, if you want."
"Wait… you… You lied!" Ron rounded on her, indignant. He automatically reached for the knife hidden in his boot; it was beaten into all members of the Order from a young age to kill anyone who learned their secret or prepare to die themselves.
Harry, however, grabbed Ron's wrist and shook his head.
"Harry, she – "
"I know," Harry said heavily. "But she's – " he watched her for a moment before nodding. "She can be trusted. I'm sure of it."
"It doesn't matter if you think she can be trusted! She needs to be taken care of!"
Harry snatched Ron's knife away and turned it on him. Ron froze. "Harry…"
"She can be trusted, Ron. Don't worry," he said slowly and calmly.
"You've been brainwashed, haven't you? You're on the Malfoy's side now… aren't you?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "Don't jump to stupid conclusions, Ron. Of course I'm still on your side."
"Then why do you have my own knife turned against me?"
"To make sure that you don't kill her."
Hermione was nervously fidgeting. "Ron, was it?"
Ron turned his glare on her.
"I… I'm sorry for tricking you." She nodded fervently. "It's just that… I'm as worried for Harry as you are. I just wanted to help. Honestly."
He looked away with a faint blush across his face, but he still didn't seem completely convinced. Either way, he didn't have any more time to waste; Harry was expected at HQ immediately.
"All right, fine! Come on, Harry, let's get out of here." He turned on his heel but stopped short of his next step when he heard Harry reply:
"I can't come with you."
"What!" Ron turned his angry gaze to Harry. "This isn't a joke anymore, Harry! The others want you back with me – NOW."
"I can't come back!" Harry shook his head. "I have more spying that can be done. If I work at it, I can figure out what more of Lucius's plans are – "
"Harry, you'll be safer out of the castle," Hermione said with a bewildered expression; surely Harry had realized this on his own.
"My safety is nothing in comparison to the rest of the villager's safety."
"We can kill the Malfoy's without this information; we can send someone else in," Ron glared.
"Kill…?" Harry looked at Ron. "We're not trying to kill the Malfoy's. Just remove them from power so that they won't – "
"Harry, what the bloody hell is wrong with you!"
Flushed with anger, Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook him roughly. "You're not yourself! You have to – "
Harry grabbed Ron's hands and shoved him away. "No. I'm staying."
They seemed to be on the brink of having a full battle to the death before Ron, utterly furious and brick red, stormed out of the room and slammed the doors shut behind him. Hermione glanced at Harry, who was also red but with a more guarded expression on his face.
"Harry…"
Harry turned and went to the bed to sit down. "I don't think he'll tell anyone that you know. You're safe."
"You can't seriously want to stay."
"I do. You wouldn't understand the importance…"
"Then help me understand."
She sat down beside Harry and gazed at him.
"The less you know, the better. For your own safety. You know?" But Harry's eyes were clouded over.
"You're going to kill the Malfoy's. You're going to kill Draco." She was frowning heavily.
"No," he said instantly. "I'll make sure that they don't get killed – just that their tyranny seizes completely. I'll make sure of it."
"How else is this tyranny going to come to a complete stop? And the people – how will you appeal to their wishes? You know that they'll want their deaths…"
Harry hesitated before answering, "I don't know yet."
"Are you going to tell him?"
Harry flushed guiltily. "How can I?"
Hermione nodded in understanding and said a moment later, "I'm not all that surprised, actually."
"You mean you knew?"
"No, not really. I was just… suspicious."
"Oh." Big surprise there.
"Your friend seemed pretty mad, though."
"Yeah, well… I guess he can't understand that I take my responsibilities pretty seriously."
"It seemed that your responsibility was to return to your headquarters," Hermione eyed Harry. "That's the gist of what I got when he said that you were expected – "
"But they don't know that I can get more information – "
"That's not why you're here."
"What? Of course it is – "
"There's something else, though."
"What d'you – "
"You're lying to yourself."
"What could I be lying to myself about?"
"That's what I'm trying to figure out."
They stared at each other for a while.
"Do you like it here?"
"Yeah."
"Do you like having to lie to everyone you know here?"
"No, not particularly."
"But it's part of your job, right?"
"Right."
"Strictly business."
"Of course."
"Nothing to do with Draco."
"Well, he's a Malfoy – "
"So you spy on him."
"What're you trying to say?"
"That you like him."
"Of course I do. He's my friend. Well, I mean – he isn't hateful. At least, not as much as he used to be – or as much as I thought he was."
"And he's the real reason why you stayed."
Harry furrowed his eyebrows but didn't reply.
"You can still catch up with your friend, if you want."
Harry merely shook his head, staring intently at the floor. Hermione, satisfied, stood and said, "I'll go to the kitchens and get you something to eat. You must be famished."
And at that, she got up to leave him in the room.
Now, I apologize – earlier, I believe that I stated that, as far as I could see, the Lady Prophet would not be mentioned again… however, I obviously have bad vision, because – for the second time in two nights, creating a world record – she left her tower and meandered to Lord Malfoy's chambers to declare there would be another assassination attempt.