It had been a month since the incident, and Narcissa Malfoy had wandered the desolate halls in near catatonia. Her shoulders slumped with weariness and her once shining blond hair, the envy of all women, was dull and matted. Vitalizing rays of the sun had not touched her pale skin in weeks.
Lavishly decorated corridors of the Malfoy mansion had once inspired her with confidence and pride. Walls were immaculately crafted, displaying scenes of ancient battles and in each one of them the wizards emerged victorious over all lower forms of magical life. The Malfoy ancestors had been lords and dukes in their time and the manor was a testament to the wealth and status that had been passed through generations. Pureblood wizards were chosen by nature to rise above all others. They were born masters and commanded respect.
This had been her creed, the mantra she had recited, and the constant hum that was the background of her life.
She trudged her way through the fourth floor corridor, as desolate as it seemed, it grew darker with each labored step. Her thin satin gown hung loosely on bony shoulders and dragged on the floor behind her.
Metallic suits of armor lined the hallway, standing tall on the dark polished stone. Each one of them imposing and a reminder of the great warlocks of the ancient times. And each one seemed to look down upon her frail body, as if judging her and finding her lacking.
"Mistress…" called a squeaky voice from behind her.
Narcissa's step faltered slightly and she leaned onto the wall for support, as the rough stone scratched her soft skin.
"What?" she asked in an weary voice.
Her body was numb, the only awareness she had was the pulsing of a dark chasm which had once been her heart; her true self caged behind the bars of despair.
The house-elf was visibly shaken by her appearance and as all bound magical creatures, she could sense her mistress's pain. "Mi-Miss- Mistress, Mas – Master…" the small creature stumbled over the words, "… is coming in morning…does mistress have any special orders." The creature asked with wide eyes.
Husband. The binding oaths of her marriage had been shattered like glass and herself cast aside as a whore. Used time and time again until the mind accepted the abuse and all thoughts of dignity were forsaken. What a charade her life was. The worth of her blood and her station in life had never been clearer.
Without any friends or family to call her soul back from exile, she feared dementia would be her fate. The mind would succumb to despair without the pillars of hope to give it strength. Hope was the life breath for a soul; it had been snatched from her, leaving her like a leaf tumbling in the wind.
"I've no special instruction. Do not disturb me again for the night … regardless of the matter" said Narcissa in a whisper that barely reached the elf's ears. Even anger required energy and she had none to spare.
The door to the study opened with a wave of her hand and the torch was immediately ignited, casting an orange hue over the room. A mahogany desk held carefully organized rolls of parchment and writing instruments of all sorts with an intricately chiseled chair of black wood under the desk. Bookshelves covered the walls, storing some of the most advanced books on magic available anywhere, giving the study an aura of secrecy.
She made her way to the far fall and murmured an incantation causing the bookshelf to shift slightly, revealing a safe.
A pure white dagger crafted from the fang of a basilisk sat on a velvet cushion. The ivory like blade merged flawlessly into a hilt of pure gold. Its beauty had misled many men to underestimate its foul role in the darkest of blood rituals. Almost half a century ago Lord Grindewald had crafted the dagger to suit his purposes and the Malfoy family had naturally received it as an inheritance. Few people outside the family knew that Lord Grindewald was born Rubian Malfoy.
How she had come to hate her adopted name. The familiar feeling of betrayal rose within her. But she was so close now to her goal that in morphed into anger and licked at her mind giving her strength and purpose. Anger, when funneled and focused through the intellect of Narcissa Malfoy would become a storm of vengeance. Gnashing, tearing and ripping the very magical energy that held together the pure blood families. What she could not do with her life, her death would accomplish.
It was important she have enough space to do the magic and moved to the middle of the study and began to scribe runes into the floor. The stone floor glowed as ancient symbols created in a blood red light charged the air with magic. Her wand moved with practiced ease, casting some of the most complicated runes in ritual magic.
It was fittingly ironic, that in the last few moments of her life, a life dedicated to the prestige of her family, only the cold and lifeless walls of the manor remained as witnesses.
Is the risk worth it? It was the same question he had asked himself for the last month. There were no guarantees that she would be willing to help him. But could he afford to pass up the chance? Foremost, it was also a matter of principle. Knowing all that she had suffered, could he not help her and still live with himself? Hopefully she would help him in return and if not, he would leave her at Hogwarts.
Making up his mind, Harry Potter deftly moved to the closet beside his bed and retrieved all that he would need for the trip.
The room once stored decrepit wooden crates and old furniture but now it was a chamber with a large bed at one end, a stand up bath across from the bed and a small kitchen along the farthest wall. A round glass table was in the middle of a small common space along with two dark plush sofas. Dark oak bookshelves stood along the walls. Although the basement of number four privet drive was cold and damp, it fit him quite well, he hadn't known warmth for months.
"Dobby.." called Harry. The loyal house elf appeared instantaneously, wearing a small apron and awaited instructions.
"Were you able to fix the cloak.?" he asked.
With a snap of his fingers Dobby brought forth a dark green cloak, almost black, which was fitted like a muggle trench coat rather then a traditional wizards cloak.
"I is making place for Harry Potter's sword!" exclaimed Dobby.
Harry saw a slit between the shoulder blades of the cloak and was impressed that Dobby had been able to create a scabbard within the thick Basilisk hide.
"Thanks Dobby" said Harry with a slight smile.
He strapped a sheath to his left forearm, which held a dagger. His right forearm held was reserved for his wand holster. Harry attached another holster was attached to his thigh encasing a willow wand that had once belonged to his mother and a mahogany wand which belonged to his father. He always carried them now, the wands tying him to his parents and anchoring his mind.
If it hadn't been for the chest that Petunia had given him during the summer after fifth year, he didn't know if he would have survived.
Strange was his life that the only companions he had now were an owl and a house elf. It was during these lonely moments that the pain crept into his mind and every time it felt as though someone had plunged a dagger into his heart. An icy grip would take a hold of his body leaving him breathless and weak.
It had been 2 years since he had last seen Ron and Hermione. Ron's deception had hurt but when he discovered Hermione's betrayal… it had shattered him completely. Nothing held him back from leaving Hogwarts, the very people who had made it home had betrayed him. Walls of the ancient castle had begun to feel colder, the once inviting and homely atmosphere was gone and the very magic so deeply embedded in the ancient stone stifled him.
The very night he had approached the headmaster with his demands. Sitting in his seat of power and seeming to be the embodiment of wisdom, the old mage had tried to discourage Harry from his course of action. But Harry had given an ultimatum that the headmaster could not refuse. 'Either do what I'm asking or I'll leave the wizarding world...I do this my way or I don't do it at all..'
He was gone before the light of dawn had broken the next day. No owls could reach him here and he certainly had no one to send messages to.
It was easy to push away feelings and thoughts for the first few months because he was occupied with gathering supplies, and learning battle magic along with constant practice with the Gryffindor sword. However, after the intial wave of anger had passed, loneliness began to resurface like blood seeping through an old wound.
Many a night had been spent clutching his mother's diary and drawing strength from her words. Hagrid's photo album had been a revitalizing breath on many days pulling him from the sand pit of depression. But he was still lonely. Survival and revenge weren't enough and he constantly longed for companionship. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could still feel Hermione running her fingers through his hair and her kisses falling on his neck like drops of gentle rain. But his pride did not let him indulge in the fantasies and over time he had become colder. All he had left was his pride and principles and he knew the day he lost either, he would lose himself.
Betrayal of an enemy could be forgiven but the betrayal of friends, her betrayal, was like being deceived by his own soul.
Harry shook himself, he needed to focus and the avenger had no patience with such emotions.
The coat slid on like a glove over his lithe torso and with a thought, the Gryffindor Sword adjusted itself into the scabbard in his cloak. Raven hair feel to his shoulders and were tied back with a piece of leather. He stood six feet tall, and had developed sinewy muscles because of the extreme fitness regimen that Mad-eye Moody had developed for him. The result was a physique of a martial artist, honed for endurance and speed.
He checked the small throwing knives that were attached to the dragon hide vest and with a flick of his right wrist the powerful phoenix feather wand was gripped tightly in his calloused hand.
With a mental command, Hedwig came to rest on his shoulder and Dobby knowing his part grabbed Harry's hand. Harry disillusioned himself and with a spoken keyword the portkey was activated and the basement of number four privet drive was left empty and dark.
Harry's lithe body landed firmly in a cluster of bushes. The sun was just setting and the soft evening light rolled across the unnaturally quiet fields. Unable to stand the fierce winter wind of the highlands, the animals hardly left their shelters.
The snow crunched beneath his feet as he shifted his weight to look around. There was a dense forest to the south along the perimeter of the ground and to the North stood the Malfoy manor.
It rivaled Hogwarts in its glory. The size of the manor was not comparable to Hogwarts castle but the dark stone walls looked majestic. There were four turrets that guarded the manor surrounded by large gardens and ponds. A fence framed the perimeter of the estate and Harry had no doubt that any unannounced visitors would be subjected to intense pain trying to cross the barrier. Gargoyles stood along side the walkway that led to the main doors.
"Harry Potter sir, Dobby will show you how to get in." and with that the elf began to run parallel to the fence, not making a sound and seemed to hover over the snow as he moved.
Dobby had claimed to know a way into the manor which would not upset any of the wards and over the past months, Harry had come to rely on Dobby's unusual insight into magic.
"Just tell me where to go Dobby" said Harry, his charmed boots leaving no trail in the snow. He would remember to commend Dobby on fitting the basilisk coat so perfectly, it moved with him like a second skin and he could hardly feel the weight of the sword on his back as he leaped across a patch of ice. Hedwig followed closely as they made their way through the field, keeping a safe distance from the manor to not set off any wards.
Dobby stopped just beside a patch of rocks just as Harry crouched beside him and Hedwig once again resting on his shoulder.
The fence was black and made from a strange metal that radiated darkness. The torches in the turrets were ignited giving them the look of enormous lanterns. Torches burned bright around the walls of the manor, dispelling the dark shadows cast by the setting sun.
"This transport us to storeroom Harry Potter" said Dobby pointing to the patch of rocks.
Harry squinted his eyes to protect them from the bitter wind. Dobby had his own brand of magic and the cold never bothered him. The wind was picking up and a light howl could be heard as it rushed through the forest.
"Alright lets get going" said Harry and Dobby snapped his fingers, teleporting them deep inside the Malfoy manor.